#'JUST FEEL IT' AND HER SMILE THAT MAKES HER EYES CURVE INTO CRESCENT MOONS AND HOW HER THE CORNER OF HER LIPS ARE DOWNTURNED AND

[shoverse]

THE WAY SHE SAYS IT MAKES ME UGHHHHHH

#'hey **********' AND SHE DRAGS OUT THE LAST SYLLABLE AND I CAN HEAR THE SMILE IN HER VOICE AND I ASK HER HOW SHE KNOWS ITS ME AND SHE CAN #'JUST FEEL IT' AND HER SMILE THAT MAKES HER EYES CURVE INTO CRESCENT MOONS AND HOW HER THE CORNER OF HER LIPS ARE DOWNTURNED AND #ITS STILL A SMILE AND I CAN SMELL HER C NO.5 AND HOW SHE BOUGHT COCO CHANEL AND SHES COCO AND HER LAUGH THAT SOUNDS LIKE WE'RE SHARING AN #INSIDE JOKE AND HER DUCK LIP POUT WHENEVER WE TAKE PHOTOS #AND SHE PICKS HER SKIN SO IT'S ALWAYS BLEEDING N I HAVE TO WIPE IT UP FOR HER AND SHE BURIES HER HANDS INTO HER FACE AND HER BLACK FLUFFY #SWEATER SHE LETS ME STEAL BUT IT DOESN'T REALLY FIT ME CAUSE SHES WAY TALLER AND HOW SHE SCREAMS AND LAUGHS AT VIDEOS OF JAKE AND HOW #WHEN SHES SITTING DOWN SHE'D WRAP HER ARMS AROUND MY WAIST AND SMUSH HER CHEEK AGAINST MY STOMACH AND HOW SHE HIDES HER FACE IN MY SHOULDER #WHEN WE WERE WATCHING THAT ONE AGT PERFORMANCE AND ALL HER PETS #RUSTY AND MINUO AND DOUDOU AND DUOLA AND GUANGTOU QIANG AND DUODUO AND SNOWFLAKE

[pasukiyo]

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. | tom riddle.

tom riddle x f!ravenclaw prefect reader 2,427 words warnings; smut, angst read part two here.

 “i was wondering when you’d show up.”

 she glanced around the top of the deserted astronomy tower, swiping loose strands of hair back behind her ear as her chest heaved, slightly winded from the venture up the staircase. her eyes, which had been narrowed all up until this point, softened as she drank in the sight of tom riddle— dark hair with eyes just as dark seemingly sparkling underneath the moonlight, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the stone railing behind him. the head boy badge on his chest gleamed brilliantly beneath the moonlight too, her own prefect badge glittering just the same. 

 “i hope i haven’t kept you waiting long,” she murmured, her anger at the boy before her seemingly melting away, unable to resist his alluring charm. “caught two slytherin fourth years trying to sneak away into a broom closet,” she snickered as she joined him at his side, leaning back against the railing as well. “can i not rely on you to keep your own house in line?”

 tom’s expression did not change, for it usually did not, but he emitted some sort of scoff, and she’d accept it as nearly a laugh. “doesn’t matter how many times you try to discipline them, children will still be children,” he replied, and he caught her eyes from the side of his sockets. she cocked an eyebrow, “slytherin children, in particular?” tom simply rolled his eyes, and her lips curved up into a smile to match the crescent up in the sky, giving him a slight push with her shoulder. 

 “you sound like a grandfather,” she teased, nestling in closer to his side as the breeze picked up, the chill littering her skin with goosebumps. “merlin, tom, you couldn’t have picked a warmer place to meet up?”

 it was tom who cocked an eyebrow this time, “if you wish to leave, be my guest.” her lips pressed themselves together and she pouted with a huff, grumbling incoherent noises. “that’s not fair. i don’t even know if the reason you invited me up here tonight was important or not.”

 something seemed to shift in tom’s behavior at the change of topic, he seemed more tense, almost uncomfortable. she blinked as she tried to catch his gaze, and he didn’t move, but seemed to be somewhere else all the same. “tom?” she called his name softly and he turned, leaning over the stone railing and resting his elbows against it. she rushed to do the same, her brow furrowing in concern. “i may be a ravenclaw, but that does not mean i’m able to read your mind.”

 he shook his head, almost as if to brush her off. he pushed off of the railing and stared down at her, his height towering over her, his darkness eclipsing the light provided by the stars and the moon. “i’m sure you know by now that i am a blunt person,” he began, and she shivered, although she wasn’t sure if this time it was due to the breeze, or due to the coldness of his tone. “so the reason why i invited you here tonight, was to say goodbye.”

 she blinked, clearly taken aback. she was sure she was numb, for the moment he had spoken those words, she felt like nothing. she couldn’t believe what he was saying, how could he say such things, as if everything they had been through together— everything they had done together— suddenly didn’t matter?

 tom remained silent. he only gazed into her irises, awaiting her reply. she blinked again. and then she shook her head. “i— i’m afraid i do not understand,” she breathed at last, disbelief making her chest feel tight, and even doing just that— breathing— felt like an unnecessarily difficult task. “you’ve come to say goodbye? what— what does that mean?”

 tom seemed to have expected this reaction, for he already had a reply waiting on the tip of his tongue. “i mean that after tonight, i do not wish to see you again.” 

 she blinked again. the familiar haze of tears blurred her vision.

 so she blinked once more. 

 twice. 

 thrice. 

 she could feel her tears now slipping down her cheeks, and she wondered if tom longed to collect them on the pad of his thumb, as he had done before. if he did, he made no show of it, and he remained eerily still and silent. 

 “but i— i— you,” she couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, much less a coherent thought. her mind was a tempest, and every single one of her thoughts squeezed themselves together, her own head like an ancient rune with no cipher. her eyebrows knit together as she drew air into her chest, trying to will herself to breathe. “but i thought— you— tom, i love you.”

 tom merely blinked, as if those three words meant absolutely nothing to him. she searched his face, desperate for something that would make him seem human again. she shook her head, “why? give me one good reason why i should walk away from you, why i should let go of you.”

 her request seemed to take him aback, and tom straightened his posture, turning his head to instead gaze at the black of the sky. she watched as his eyes gleamed in the starlight, as if the stars held an answer. she watched the rise and fall of his chest, his own breathing pattern seeming to become irregular, and watched as the ball at the base of his throat bobbed when he swallowed. 

 could it be that for once, tom riddle was nervous?

 “the way you make me feel,” he started, “frightens me.”

 she blinked. tom riddle had certainly told her a lot of surprising things tonight, but this seemed to be the most shocking of all. the words should have held some sense of weakness in them, but as the stared back into the voids of his eyes, she could see no weakness at all. she even feared that she may have misheard him, blinking again, furrowing her eyebrows. 

 “what?”

 “this fluttery feeling i get in my chest when you’re near, this feeling of my heart pounding so hard inside of me that i feel like i’m going to explode,” he said it almost so naturally, even though she knew it was anything but, “the feeling of.. dread.. panic that something is going to happen to you… it’s sickening.”

 her expression softened, and she dared to step forward, trying to reach out for his hand, “tom.”

 “no,” he said it so coldly, moving back away from her all in one motion. his jaw tensed but he willed his gaze to stay locked on her, as if he was afraid that a sliver of weakness would slip and fall through the cracks of his crumbling walls. “i cannot see you again. i cannot allow this.. this weakness to take over me.”

 she stepped forward, grasping his hand in hers before he had the chance to recoil. “you’re not weak for feeling something,” she said in just barely above a whisper, “it’s alright to feel, tom. it’s what makes us human.”

 he drew his hand away, slowly this time, almost as if he were unsure. she stepped closer again, this time reaching up to cup his cheek with her hand, the other grasping his forearm, as if anchoring him, tying him down to this moment. 

 “what are you so afraid of?” she asked. it was a simple question— but one tom wasn’t sure he was ready to admit. 

 but as he gazed down into the eyes of the girl before him, the girl who wanted him, was pleading for him to stay, he knew he didn’t have to say anything. his gaze flickered down to her lips, his heart pounding hard against his chest as if it desired to leap straight out of it, to rest in the palm of her hands. 

 he hated this feeling. hated feeling tethered to her, hated feeling. all he ever knew was the opposite— he was conceived under a love potion after all, and all his life, he was certain that he could never truly know what love was. 

 so maybe this wasn’t what love felt like after all. maybe he could convince himself that this was just infatuation— maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to keep her around anyway. as long as his heart remained intact, surely nothing could go wrong. 

 she was like wine, alluring, addicting— everything that was dangerous for him. and yet, he couldn’t stay away. 

 it all happened at once— tom’s hand cradled her cheek, his longer fingers slithering around until the pads pressed against the middle of the back of her head, drawing her in closer and closer until their lips met. the kiss was like fire, their tongues the fuel as they danced along one another, desperate to drink each other in, to feel close, closer than they already were. her arms wrapped themselves around his neck to draw him in even closer to her body, his warmth canceling out the chill of the night’s breeze. tom peeled an eyelid open to check their surroundings before walking her back, back until she was pressed against the door of the exit in which she arched her back off as tom’s kisses trailed down her neck, his fingers like snakes as they slithered underneath her robes. 

 “t.. tom,” she gasped as his hands slid down, down, down until they reached the end of her skirt, making its slowly ascent back up, up, up, his palms resting on either of her hips. “shhh,” he breathed against her skin as he worked her underwear down her thighs, letting them slip down to her ankles. she pressed her lips together as his fingers, soft and gentle as they were, ghosted over her sex, the phantom of his touch making her shudder, her head banging against the door behind her. 

 she whimpered as he glanced down at her, her eyelids squeezed shut as the pads of his fingers rubbed against her clit, her hips bucking into his touch before he drew it away. the same hand he had used to touch her grabbed her chin and squeezed, her lids flying open as he forced her gaze to fall under his. “do not close your eyes,” he murmured, “look at me while i pleasure you.”

 she felt as though she could melt right there, on top of the astronomy tower, by his warm words alone, never mind the cold. his fingers trailed back down the side of her body until they were yet again teasing the inside of her thighs, his hand not rubbing up and down against her clit gripping the back of her head, locking her gaze onto his heated one. 

 “please, tom,” she mewled as she bucked and writhed against his body, seeking more friction from his fingers, seeking more. “i want— i want..”

 she trailed off as his fingers pressed just a little harder against her throbbing clit, his forehead falling down against hers. “what is it that you want, darling?” he murmured. “hm?”

 “oh, tom,” she cried when he pressed down even harder against her clit, itching for her response. “you. please, i just want you.”

 tom’s head rolled against hers, but their eye contact never once broke as he pulled his hands away from her to instead fumble with his trousers, sliding them down just enough to let his cock spring free. she didn’t dare look down, too entranced by him, his voids for eyes drawing her in, closer and closer until she was free-falling into them, into him. 

 she didn’t even break out of her trance when he pushed himself inside. 

 her arms tightened around his neck and she moaned, she moaned so loud, but he muffled her sounds with his lips, the kiss equally as pleasant. her kissing was sloppy, her brain unable to wrap around both their kiss and the way his cock felt inside of her, the way he was filling her up to the absolute brim. she melted like putty in the palms of his hands, free to be morphed in whichever way he pleased. 

 tom knew it all too well. in fact, he loved it. 

 tom’s lips were more controlled, his kiss careful, calculated. it was just like everything else in his life— exceptional, polished, perfect. perfection was what tom strived for— and he wouldn’t settle for anything less. 

 his thrusts were calculated too, his hips setting a regular but he brutal pace, hissing through his teeth at the way she squeezed him. it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, this pleasure, and although he had tried to deny it before, he knew he would never be able to give this up. 

 his irises surged into hers, his thumb caressing the skin just beneath her bottom lashes, willing her to keep her eyes open, just a little bit longer. her eyelids were heavy over her eyes and threatened to fall any moment but she would not let them, no, because his eyes were so dark, so warm, so inviting. she wouldn’t mind if she got lost in them forever. 

 “tom.. i—“ she couldn’t even finish her sentence, her mind a murky slime, each thrust of his cock against the most sensitive spot inside her sending her deeper and further into submission. it was as if tom could sense this, and he reveled in it. 

 of course he loved knowing that he was in control, that she was willing to give herself up to be in his control. she was limp and pliant in his arms as if his touch alone was enough to tranquilize her— he almost couldn’t believe how easy it would be to manipulate her. and she belonged to ravenclaw house?

 but the longer he stared at her, he felt that same fluttery feeling coming back to his chest, that same panic and dread he had mentioned earlier creeping its way into his heart, and it throbbed. no, no— this couldn’t be what love was. certainly, love wouldn’t make him so uncomfortable?

 no, it couldn’t be. love couldn’t be this powerful, this out of control. that couldn’t be what it was. 

 and if it was, then tom riddle feared it. 

 but when he slammed his hips into her one final time, his release spilling inside of her, painting her insides white, marking her forever as his, he knew that even still, he would never be able to get enough of her. 

a/n; not sure if anyone still reads tom riddle fics either but man he’s been on my mind so much lately 😭 i just finished rereading harry potter so that’s probably why lmao also not sure how i feel about this one but hey, it’s a thing and i actually finished it

#tom riddle #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x you #tom riddle fic #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter fandom #wizarding world #harry potter fic

[morallyinept]

Adulation - A Marcus Pike x Alopecia F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: You've been dating and getting to know the handsome Agent Pike for some time, but there's still one last thing you've yet to tell him about yourself.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Alopecia F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity. Reader does not have hair on her head and wears wigs.)

Word Count: 7.7k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Triggers & Warnings: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/thigh riding/gentle dirty talk/Marcus is completely smitten with you.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The condition/disability mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

"We should try the sampler platter," Marcus suggests, his gaze lingering on the menu of mouth watering options. "That way, we can taste a little bit of everything?"

“Well, they say variety is the spice of life. I like your thinking, Agent.” You smirk as Marcus’s cheeks fill with blood. 

You watch as Marcus sips from his wine glass, deep brown eyes meeting yours over the glass rim of dark berry liquid. 

“You, uh… you look really beautiful tonight. You look so good in that dress. I can’t take my eyes off you.” 

“Stop it,” you smile bashfully.

“Do you really want me to stop?” He teases, pouring out more wine into your glass. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

You feel your face warm with pleasure at his compliment, your heart fluttering with delight, skin flecking with goosebumps and tingles as his words make their way across it.

He always makes you feel like this with a simple sentence and look. Makes you feel… seen. 

"Well, I thought I'd switch things up a bit," you admit, a hint of giddy laughter in your voice. "Gotta keep you on your toes, you know?" 

His eyes roam over the sleek bob of midnight black, the sharp lines of the style adding an air of sophistication to your ensemble. Your hair shimmers in the gloaming candlelight, lending an aura of mystery and allure to your already captivating presence.

Marcus chuckles, leaning closer to you across the table. "You certainly have a way of keeping me captivated," he remarks, his eyes sparkling with a magnetising affection.

“I do?” You query, reaching for your wine glass. 

Marcus's eyes widen in surprise, a grin spreading across his face as he admires you. "Yeah. I love it," he replies, his voice filling with genuine admiration. "It's different, but it suits you perfectly."

“Different good?” You query and a pang of worry flits through your veins, reminding you it’s constantly there. A trusty companion, alongside your long term friends, angst and fear. 

“Yeah. It’s like I’m dating all these different women.” He chuckles at the absurdity of it, his cheeks glowing with warmth.

“Do you have a favourite?” You ask him, finger circling the rim of your glass and his eyes drop to watch it momentarily.

“Hmm. Let me think…” He smiles and you can’t help but be drawn into the way his lips curve up into a dimple on his cheek. A fleshed crescent moon that you’ve fantasised about tasting since the first time you saw it revealed to you. 

Marcus Pike, FBI Special Agent in the Art Crimes Department, is the epitome of the perfect man, blending smooth determination with a profound appreciation for beauty and culture.

His sharp mind and keen eye for detail makes him a formidable agent, while his unwavering commitment to justice earns him the respect of his colleagues and adversaries alike. In the high-stakes world of art crime, Marcus stands out as a shining beacon of integrity and tenacity.

He approaches each case with a meticulous attention to detail, unravelling complex webs of deception and intrigue with adept precision and skill. 

Whether he’s tracking down stolen masterpieces or uncovering elaborate forgery rings, Marcus's relentless pursuit of truth and justice never wavers.

But it isn't just his professional acumen that makes Marcus so extraordinary; it’s his genuine passion for art and culture that truly sets him apart. 

That, and the fact he’s ridiculously handsome. 

He has a deep appreciation for the beauty and significance of the works he seeks to protect, viewing each painting, sculpture, and artefact as a priceless treasure to be safeguarded for future generations. Marcus's love for art extends beyond the confines of his work, infusing every aspect of his personal life with a sense of wonder and curiosity. 

And it’s where you first met him, in the serene halls of the local art gallery where you crossed paths with Special Agent Marcus Pike. Spinning on his polished heels to greet you with the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen on a man, and how they sparkled at you instantly.

Harbouring your own passion for art and a keen eye for beauty, you work as a curator, carefully selecting and showcasing the works of talented artists from around the world as well as in the local vicinity.

Marcus, drawn to the gallery as a way of unwinding from his case loads, found himself captivated not only by the stunning artwork on display but also by the enigmatic presence of you. Colourful and striking; your clothes, accessories, and hair, all alive with vividness. 

You both spent your individual free time exploring museums and galleries, studying the brushstrokes of the masters and marvelling at the stories behind each piece.

And when he wasn't immersed in the world of art, Marcus could often be found indulging in the delights of cuisine, tempting you with indulgent treats he started bringing to you on your lunch, innocently suggesting he thought you might like it, and recommending the best places to eat.

Until he boldly suggested you try them out with him. 

But perhaps Marcus's most admirable quality is his unwavering dedication to those he cares about. He’s fiercely loyal to his team, always ready to go to bat for them in the face of danger or adversity.

And when it comes to matters of the heart, Marcus is a true romantic, believing in love with every fibre of his being and never hesitating to show his affection for those closest to him.

As you’d lingered in front of a particularly captivating painting, two lovers entwined in a dance of exaggerated colour, Marcus felt a flutter of excitement in his chest.

He turned to you, his heart pounding with anticipation as he mustered up the courage to ask you a question that had been on his mind since you’d first met.

His voice was tinged with nervousness and his words caught in his throat. "I know this might seem sudden, but would you like to go out to dinner with me? I'd love to continue our conversation over a meal, if you're interested?"

“Are you asking me out on a date, Marcus?” You’d asked with hopeful eyes. 

“Absolutely I am.”

And you were interested. God, of course you were. Excited at the prospect of getting to know this incredibly gorgeous man some more. 

But also, incredibly terrified.

The thought of dating had long filled you with a sense of dread and anxiety. How could you ever expect someone to love and want you when you struggled to love yourself?

Past experiences had let you down incessantly. The idea of revealing your secret to a potential partner filled you with a swamping dread, the fear of rejection looming like a dark cloud ready to break in the distance.

You’d spent years perfecting the art of concealment, hiding the bald patches beneath layers of carefully styled hair, until eventually the patches became an entirely bare head and you had no choice but to wear wigs.

But no matter how hard you tried to hide your condition, the truth remained - you were different. Convincing yourself that you were flawed, even unlovable for a while.

But deep down, you knew that you couldn't let fear dictate your life forever. Somewhere out there, you hoped, was someone who would see past your alopecia.

On your first date together, Marcus took you to a different art gallery, one of his favourites in the city, knowing your love for beauty and culture would be a perfect match for the setting.

As you both wandered through the halls adorned with vibrant paintings and striking sculptures, Marcus couldn't help but admire the way your eyes lit up with wonder and fascination.

He watched in rapt attention as you studied each piece with a keen eye, your curiosity piqued by the stories and emotions captured within the artwork. 

You exchanged whispered observations and shared smiles as you explored the gallery together, lost in the magic of the moment.

Fingers accidentally on purpose brushing against one another until they interlocked. Lips inching closer until they finally met in soft hums of appreciation and want. Whispers that erupted into breathy giggles as you slipped into alcoves to explore those lips some more.

He complimented everything about you, your eyes, the way you taste and your hair, winding his fingers through the loose, flowing curls as they fell over your shoulder. Clearly unable to tell that it wasn’t your real hair, and that made it all the more devastating somehow. 

You couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that chomped at your insides. Marcus looked at you with such openness and sincerity, yet you couldn't bring yourself to reveal the truth about your hair loss.

The thought of disappointing him, of shattering the illusion of perfection you had carefully crafted, filled you with guilt every time he smiled softly at you. How could you continue to deceive him, knowing that the truth would inevitably come to light?

As you continued to get close, your mind raced with thoughts of confession and consequence. You imagined Marcus's reaction - the shock, the disappointment, the inevitable rejection that would sure follow.

The fear of facing his judgement, of losing his affection, threatened to consume you whole. To the point you considered calling the whole dating thing off to save the heartache.

But you couldn’t abnegate yourself away from him either, drawn to him, by more than just your commonalities, which were growing in number and taste the more you shared time together.

The more he kissed you, held you close to him in his big hands, pressed you up against the warmth of him in a tight embrace, the more you just wanted him back. 

Your dates had taken you both to bustling markets, where you’d sampled exotic street foods and danced to the rhythm of live music. You’d strolled hand in hand through tranquil parks, lost in deep conversation as you watched the sunset paint the sky with hues of pink and gold. 

With each passing date, you and Marcus had peeled back the layers of your personalities, revealing your hopes and dreams to one another. Discovering shared interests and passions, as well as the unique quirks and idiosyncrasies that made each of you who you are. 

He spoke of his previous marriage, divorced and left adrift on a lonesome island of singledom. Then he told you about a colleague he’d fallen for, but again it had left him facing the nights alone in his new apartment here in D.C. when she’d made another choice.

His talk of rejection stumped him for a while, those brown eyes pulled deeper into his skull as he contemplated, the scars still visible, and it melted the fear clinging onto your own shoulders somewhat. 

You shared your own tales of heartbreak and there wasn’t much that you didn’t know about one another, revealing all your secrets and worries with ease. 

Well, almost all of them. 

Your finger winds through the cut length of the synthetic bob, one wig of several in your stylish armoury, and you swallow dryly, clearing your throat. 

It’s been on the cusp of your tongue but never seems to become a whole word with sound and vowels. And terrifying repercussions should it want to be pronounced. 

The waiter soon arrives with the sampler platter, a colourful array of small plates arranged artfully on a wooden board. Your eyes widen in delight as you survey the tempting spread before you. 

As you both sample the various dishes laid out, around delightful hums of satisfaction, Marcus can't help but marvel at the diverse flavours and textures that dance across his palate.

He glances at you, a playful twinkle in his eyes, as he reaches for another bite, but holds it out to you instead.

"This is incredible, try this," Marcus remarks, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm as you lean in and taste it from his fork. You simply can’t resist him in any way. 

“Delicious.” You agree. 

You take a sip of your wine, a curious glint in your eyes as you look back at him.

"So, tell me something about you that I don't already know yet," you prompt, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

“You want a heinous dark secret, hmm?” Marcus teases. 

“Sure. The more dark and twisted the better.” You giggle. 

Marcus chuckles, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his gaze. "Well, you might not believe it, but I used to play bass in a band. I don’t think I've mentioned that yet," he confesses, his voice tinged with fond reminiscence. 

Your eyes widen in surprise, your interest piqued. "Are you a secret metalhead, Marcus?”

“Well, not quite.”  

“That's really cool," you confirm, leaning forward eagerly. "What was the name of your band?"

Marcus grins, his peepers glinting with excitement at the memory. "We were called 'Midnight Groove'," he reveals, a nostalgic smile playing on his pink lips. "And we were all about that funky, soulful sound. We played everything from classic rock to blues to jazz fusion."

Your lips curve into a smile as you imagine Marcus on stage, lost in the rhythm of the music, fingers plucking at strings. You glance at them around his glass, thick and you lick your lips. 

"That sounds amazing," you remark, your voice filled with admiration. "I would love to hear you play sometime."

Marcus’s smile widens at your enthusiasm, his heart warmed by your genuine interest. "I'd like that," he says softly, his gaze locked with yours. "Maybe one day I'll dust off my old bass guitar and serenade you with some funky tunes."

“You don't play much anymore?”

“Disbanded. Work became all encompassing and we scattered. We stay in touch though. They’re a good bunch of guys.”

As the conversation and flirtatious looks flows between you both, Marcus leans in again, his eyes soft with genuine interest.

"So, tell me something about yourself that I don't know yet," he prompts, a warm smile playing on his lips.

His question hangs in the air, lingering between you like a taut thread of anticipation. Pulling tight, tight, tighter - until it snaps!

For a moment, you hesitate, your mind racing as you grapple with the weight of Marcus's innocent inquiry.

You search for something to share, something that will offer him a glimpse into your world without revealing the vulnerable truth you keep hidden beneath your wigs.

But try as you might, you find yourself at a loss for words, because he already knows everything. He knows where you grew up, how you got that little scar on your knee, who your first crush was...

He knows, he has to know right? It’s obvious. Has to be. The fact your hair is so different every time you see him is apparent that you wear wigs. He can’t be that naive or oblivious. 

The weight of your secret bears down on you like a heavy burden, suffocating your ability to speak and leaving you feeling exposed and prickly. You look at him, eyes soft and lips smiling in playful anticipation of your secret you’ll reveal.

He knows everything about you. Everything. Except this one, tiny, completely significant detail you’ve deliberately left out. 

As the silence stretches between you, Marcus reaches out to gently touch your hand, sending a jolt of warmth through your body. 

"Hey,” the velvety feel of his thumb stroking over your knuckles makes you somewhat dizzy. “You don't have to share anything you're not comfortable with," he reassures you, his voice soft and grounding.

You contemplate ending it right here, before Marcus has the chance to discover it all.

Your mind flits between making up some white lie or excusing yourself to the bathroom and walking out, disappearing from his life without a trace. It would be easier that way, wouldn't it? Easier than facing the inevitable truth.

But as you look into Marcus's eyes, filled with warmth and kindness, you know that you can't bring yourself to hurt him like that. Despite your fears and insecurities, you can't bear the thought of losing him - not when he's become such an integral part of your life, not when you’ve come to care for him so deeply.

Your gaze falters for a moment, your mind racing as you debate whether to reveal it. It could change everything - you suspect it might. It has before, countless times before. A repetitive déjà vu you're doomed to live through on endless repeat.

You don’t want to tarnish Marcus with the same brush, it’s unfair. But you’ve walked this path before and it’s hard not to expect disappointment. People are such fickle creatures after all.  

But the way he’s looking at you now, with deep brown eyes that reflect the candlelight, he softens your edges, makes the outline of your sight fuzzy and full of bokeh sparkles.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses over your features before you finally brave yourself to speak.

"Well, there's something I haven't really talked about before," you began slowly, your voice just above a trembled whisper.

And now you’ve started it’s unnerving to know how to finish. 

“Do you wanna leave, go somewhere private and talk?” He asks, sensing your hesitancy. 

“No, no, here is okay. Besides, if I don’t just come out and tell you now, I probably… won’t.”

“Okay.” Marcus says, his smile dipping a little. “Take your time. You can tell me anything, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He squeezes your hand inside his to emphasise the point. And you instantly feel wretched for assuming that he would once he knows.

He’s done nothing but make you feel at ease since the moment you met. Make you feel awash with vibrancy. He sees all your colours, every single one and doesn't try to grey them out or tone them down. He really likes you for… you.

That’s all you’ve ever wanted, right?

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage as you meet Marcus's curious gaze. 

"It's just... I-I have a condition called alopecia," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's why my hair looks different all the time. I wear wigs."

You pick up your wine glass, quickly downing the contents in two large gulps as your heart thuds inside your ears. 

Marcus nods, the smile instantly returning. “Yeah, I knew that.”

You baulk. “Wait, you did?” 

“Well, I mean, I didn’t know for sure that it was alopecia, but I suspected it was probably something like that.”

“Your detective skills precede you, Agent.”

He smiles. “No, I just pay attention to things I really like looking at.” 

You smile back, any panic instantly falling from your shoulders.

“I didn’t want to pry. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. I didn’t know for sure so didn’t want to assume. I've always admired your style. Especially your hair. It's so versatile - one day it's short and spunky, the next it's long and glamorous. I wish I had your knack for switching up my look."

“You look pretty fine to me, Marcus.” You say with a smile and his cheeks glow again. 

“Either way, I kinda love all those different looks on you.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah. They’re amazing and really compliment your personality,” he says and you feel warm at his admission. 

Throughout your dates, your hair has been a delightful kaleidoscope of colours and styles, each wig a reflection of your vibrant personality and adventurous spirit.

On your first meeting at the art gallery, your hair was cascaded in loose curls of rich chestnut in soft waves that caught his eye as you moved. The subtle highlights danced in the gallery's dim lighting, accentuating your features and drawing Marcus's gaze like a moth to a flame.

On a spontaneous night outing to a live jazz club, you surprised Marcus with a playful pixie cut of platinum blonde, the short strands framing your face in a halo of light.

With each nod of your head to the rhythm of the music, your hair caught the stage lights and sparkled like a constellation in the night sky, mesmerising Marcus with its silvery glimmer.

As your dates blossomed in frequency, you continued to delight and surprise Marcus with your ever-changing hairstyles. From long, flowing locks of fiery red to bold, statement-making curls of electric blue, and shorter edgy styles, each wig you wear is a testament to your creativity and bright confidence, and Marcus finds himself falling more deeply for you with each passing day. 

And he never queries why, just admiring and complimenting, and accepting that this is who you are. 

“Do you mind talking about it?” Marcus asks. 

“Not at all. I mean, not many people want to, I guess.”

“Really?”

“Compassion and understanding is often hard to compete with judgemental stares and whispering, you know?”

Marcus frowns. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that. That must have been hard.” He says sincerely. 

“The wigs help. Most people assume it’s a fashion choice.” You explain.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

He looks at you deeply. “Is it all over or just… your head?”

You breathe in. “Mostly my head. But for a while, I lost my eyelashes. I have hair… uh, elsewhere. But it tends to be really patchy so I keep it… trim.” You say, swallowing dryly as Marcus blushes. 

“I’m uh… I’m sure it’s all perfect.” He surmises.  

You smile. “My hair sometimes grows patchy on my head too, but it’s never long enough to grow out into full hair, if that makes sense? So I just shave it off. It’s easier.” 

Marcus nods, listening intently. “What's your favourite wig that you have?” 

You think about it for a moment. “The one I was wearing the day I met you.” 

He blushes. “Yeah. I really like that one too.” 

“Maybe I should wear it more often.” Tears well up in your eyes as you look at Marcus, overwhelmed by his kindness and sincerity. 

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand again. 

"I was so afraid that you’d be repulsed by me," you admit, your voice trembling.

“Why would you think that? I think you're absolutely beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

“Oh, Marcus.” You sniffle, reaching for your napkin to dab your eyes before your mascara runs. 

“I mean it.” He squeezes your hand again, wrapping his fingers around your own, his eyes filled with compassion. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me," he says softly, his voice filled with warmth. "But it doesn't change how I feel about you. You're still the same amazing person I've come to care about. I really care about you."

You look at him, his hand emanating so much warmth around yours. “Yeah?”

He nods, smiling. “Can I tell you another secret?”

“Sure.”

“I’m really falling for you, actually. Head over heels, completely and utterly.” He admits. 

In that moment, the world seems to stand still as you process Marcus's heartfelt confession. A surge of warmth floods your chest, chasing away the lingering doubts and fears that have plagued you for so long.

"Marcus, I..." you begin, your voice choked with emotion. "I'm falling for you, too."

The smile that spreads across his face could outshine the sun. 

With a soft exhale, Marcus leans in closer, his voice a tender whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

Marcus’s gaze locks with yours in a silent plea. "Would you... would you like to come back to my place after we finish up here?"

Your breath catches in your throat at Marcus's suggestion, your mind awash with a whirlwind of emotions and desires. The thought of being alone with him, of exploring the depths of your connection in the privacy of his home, sends a thrill coursing through your veins.

You can imagine him peeling you out of your dress, running his hands all over your skin. Asking you to stay with hot breath snaking in your ear because he wants to make love to you all night long. Wants to watch you buck and moan for him.

You’ve thought about it a lot at night, seeking satisfaction with your fingers and vibrator as your mind conjures up all the ways he can leave you satisfied. And you’d say yes, wanting nothing more than to let him fill you full of him, and then you’d have to take your wig off to sleep in his arms and-

“Oh.” Your thighs squeeze themselves together relieving some of that delicious anticipation, despite your mind penduluming between abject want and that familiar fear. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any wild expectations. Just some more wine and maybe a movie? Some cuddles on the couch?” Marcus tempts. 

With a slow nod, you meet Marcus's soft gaze with unwavering determination. You can’t abnegate yourself. Especially when it’s apparent he still wants to spend time with you, despite now knowing entirely everything about you.

"Yes," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'd really like that."

“Me too.” He smiles at you with a soft beam. 

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine." 

You smile as Marcus talks along with the film Casablanca rolling across his flat TV screen. Changing his accent to match Humphrey Bogart’s, which makes you giggle, because it sounds nothing like it at all. Then he laughs with you, his chuckles sounding like wind chimes. 

Wrapped in a cosy blanket, you nestle closer to Marcus, your head resting against his chest as you lose yourselves in the timeless tale unfolding onscreen. 

Marcus drapes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer with a gentle warmth that envelopes you in a sense of security and belonging.

Close up, Marcus exudes an aura of warmth and masculinity that’s impossible to ignore with each breath you inhale pressed against his broad chest. He’s dressed more casually now, exchanging his suit pants for casual grey sweats and his crips shirt for a looser round neck.

His scent mingles with the natural musk of his skin, creating a tantalising combination that stirs something primal within. You get whiffs of citrusy bergamot and zesty orange, base notes that are complimented by hints of spicy cinnamon and clove each time you breathe in.

You can smell the fruity tones of the cabernet on the soft warmth of his breath, cascading down your forehead onto your nose. 

As you watch the movie together, your soft breathing mingled with the crackle of the fireplace fills the room with a sense of warmth and intimacy, something you’ve always craved with a partner. To just feel close and wanted.

Marcus will occasionally steal glances down at you, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of you relaxed and at ease in his arms.

“This feels so good.” You murmur into his shoulder. 

“Yeah, it really does.” He agrees. 

“Oh sorry, I was talking to Rick Blaine.” You giggle, his hand lowering and pinching your hip playfully. 

“Oh really?” Marcus teases. “Shall I leave you and Rick to it then?”

You giggle some more and he pulls you in closer. 

“He is really handsome, I’ll give you that. Maybe I’ll stay and watch.” He remarks. 

“Kinky,” you smirk. 

His chest heaves from another chuckle. 

“He’s not as handsome as you, though.” You chirp, looking at him.

As you trace the lines of his face with your gaze - the strong jawline, the stubble-softened cheeks, the gentle slope of his nose - you marvel at the beauty of the man before you.

He’s a masterpiece in every sense of the word - a work of art crafted with care and precision, a reflection of the love and light that dwells within his gentle soul.

“Oh yeah?”

You nod looking up at him. “Yeah. Sexy too.”

He grins with twinkly eyes. “You think I’m sexy?”

“Really sexy,” you nod, leaning up to kiss him.

“I think you’re incredibly sexy.” Marcus says as he brushes his lips against yours. “Mmm, God… look at you.” 

His tongue slips into your mouth, tantalising you into a willing submission inside his arms. It’s a kiss filled with tenderness and passion, a silent promise of love and acceptance that transcends words between you.

“It’s late,” you say softly, a dreamy relaxation settling into your bones, limbs warm from the wine and the snuggly blanket draped over you both.

Soft hums, hands that sweep up arms and into the back of his hairline, a nose that crushes against yours as you breathe into one another, you connect on deeper levels. You could kiss him forever.

“Yeah,” he glances over at the clock and it’s nearing midnight. “I’ll call you a cab., sweetheart.”

Looking a little bereft, he goes to move, but your palm on his chest stops him. 

"Marcus, I... I don't want to leave, but-" 

The thought of staying the night with Marcus is both thrilling and terrifying, for it means revealing your most vulnerable self - the woman beneath the carefully crafted facade of your wigs.

But every fibre in your body wants him pressed up close to you like he is now, holding you in his arms, skin on delicious skin. 

You nod. 

“It’s okay. I feel the same way. I'm nervous too."

"You are?"

"Because... you want me. It's felt like no-one really has most of my life. Second best." He says, his smile dipping.

"It's their loss, Marcus. Trust me." You smile.

"I really wanna hold you all night and wake up with you in the morning. Make you pancakes for breakfast.” He smiles again, brushing his nose against yours. “But I also don't want you to feel uncomfortable." He says, his fingers stroking against your cheek. 

“But… when you’re ready, I do have something that might put you at ease.”

“What?”

“One sec.” He pushes off the blanket and disappears out of the room quickly.

You hear the thud of the stairs as he dashes up them and the shake again as he comes back down with something behind his back. 

“Marcus-” You grin waiting for him to reveal it. 

“I want you to know that I think you're beautiful, with or without your wig. And if and when you're ready to take it off, I'll be here for you, every step of the way. It changes nothing for me."

You smile softly at him.

“And I got this, for when you stay. I mean, if you want to. I hope you’ll want to. But I read some things about alopecia and some people said-”

“You read up on it?” You ask, your eyebrows rising.

“Yeah.” He hands it to you and your fingers stroke across a silken cap in a striking, deep sapphire hue. 

“Marcus.”

The simple gesture speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and care, touching you in a way you hadn't expected.

Tears well up in your eyes as you take the dainty cap from Marcus's outstretched hand, your fingers trembling with gratitude. It’s more than just a gift - it’s a symbol of his acceptance, his willingness to embrace every part of you, including your alopecia.

“I read that you might feel cold, when you sleep?”

“Yeah, I do,” you nod, wiping your eyes. “This is so thoughtful, Marcus.”

You’ve kept your alopecia hidden for so long, fearing rejection and judgement from those you care about. But Marcus's unwavering acceptance and understanding gives you a glimmer of hope - hope that you can be loved for who you truly are, wig or no wig.

"Thank you," you say softly, your voice tinged with emotion. "For being so kind and patient with me. This means so much much to me, more than you could ever know."

You look down at the cap, it’s colour bold and so pretty. Something so small, but means so much. A simple gesture that lets you know it's okay to be vulnerable.

To be yourself. 

Marcus smiles, his eyes sparkling with affection. "You don't have to thank me. I care about you deeply, and I want you to feel comfortable and safe with me, sweetheart."

“I do,” you smile. “I really do.”

With a shaky breath, you make a decision. You know that you can't let fear hold you back any longer. Not when Marcus is right here, imbuing you with strength and desire. 

Slowly, hesitantly, you reach up to remove your wig, unclipping it and revealing the smooth expanse of your scalp beneath.

Marcus's breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, eyes roaming slowly over your head and his heart swelling with admiration for your courage and vulnerability.

"Wow," he says. He reaches out to gently cup your face in his hands, his touch tender and reverent.

He places a soft kiss on the top of your head, lips pressed gently into the smooth, bare skin and it lingers before he pulls you closer - large hands resting gently on your hips as he glides his lips against yours.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity. "Absolutely stunning."

"I'm really not," you whisper.

"You are to me. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You feel his hands trail up your back and then disappear, the warmth from them now emanating on your cheeks again, thumbs stroking under your eyes. 

“I think…” You begin with a breathless whisper.

“Yeah?” He breathes into your mouth. 

“I think… I want to stay and for you to take me to bed, Marcus.”

“Are you sure?” He mouths against your cheek.

The subtle graze of his barely-there facial hair makes you hot under your skin. Your fingers clutch tighter around his shoulders, the material from his t-shirt bunching up there.

The little groan from the back of his throat is swallowed up as you breathe it down into your lungs.  

“I’m sure. I want you.” 

“God, I want you too.” He groans. 

You don’t make it to the bedroom, instead straddling his lap right on the sofa as you kiss him with everything you have. 

You help him out of his t-shirt, rolling it up and running your hands over his bronzed skin. Leaning in to trail open mouthed kisses down his chest, he unbuttons your shirt revealing delicate lace cups holding you in and groans audibly. 

And you both laugh when he struggles to unclasp it. 

“Fuck...” Marcus runs his mouth in a slew of delicate kisses over your cleavage, reaching around with nimble, yet trembling fingers to unclasp your bra.

"I think thas's the first time I've heard you curse." You snicker.

"I think the situation calls for it. My God... I can't believe how stunning you are!"

“What is going on back here?” He chuckles, and you help him out, letting your breasts spill into his face.

“God, look at those nipples.” He sighs hungrily. 

“Put them in your mouth.” You husk.

Kissing and licking over your nipples you can feel the clamminess over your back as you sweat. His tongue draws tantalising circles around them and you could just come from that alone. 

"Yes, ma'am." He sucks your nipple into his mouth, warm and wet as he swirls his tongue, giving each the attention they so deserve until they're hard and aching between the gentle pull of his teeth.

"Mmm," you groan in delight.

“Oh God, Marcus…” you whine, fingers tugging in his hair. You inadvertently rock your hips against his thigh, grinding softly on him. And he grunts glancing down at you doing it. 

“That feel good?” Marcus asks as you moan softly, feeling the delicious grind of your clit catching against the fabric of his sweats. 

“Yeah.”

He watches with rapt attention, his hands snaking their way around you and moving the henlm of your dress up round your stomach as you grip onto his shoulders. 

“Mmm, feels so good,” you groan.

“You look so good doing that… fuck.” He whispers, losing his voice. “Use me, that’s it. Like that. Make a mess of me. Come on, baby.” Marcus urges, pressing desperate kisses to your throat.

Winding your hips, you clock the bulge straining in his sweats and palm it, and he hisses between his teeth. He feels big, thick and you groan as the pressure on your clit mounts.

He rocks you harder, faster as you grind and pant, moaning his name softly as you build. Your gasps are more throaty, your body tensing up, and he can feel it under his hands. 

“Come for me, beautiful,” Marcus urges as you ride his thigh to a tingly oblivion.

Warmth spreads down your spine, laced with an aftermath of delicious prickles as your shudder and shake.

A dark patch is left on his grey sweatpants as your slick seeps into them. 

“I wanna take these panties off. God, they're so sexy. Can I?” Marcus husks with dark eyes. 

You nod and shimmy your hips so he can pull them down, laying you back on the couch as he parts your legs.

He licks his lips and groans at the perfectly bare pussy presented to him. 

“Fuck…” 

He strokes his fingers through your sopping folds, sucking on your nipples again as he slides his fingers up your slit, the pad of his finger pressing gently as you card through his hair. 

“M-Marcus,” you whine as he teases your entrance with those thick digits, feeling you clench around just the tip.

He strokes his finger in and out as you lay there, leaving it in so you can work those muscles against it, clenching around him as you groan with desperate need.

He teases, slowly pulling it out and just as slowly pushing it back in again. Withdrawing and then adding another until he pumps them inside your aching cunt. 

His other hand on the cushion beside your head inches closer, his thumb brushing against the smooth curve of your skin above your ear, and running his lips over your bare crown once more before resting his forehead on yours. 

The slick of your pussy being fucked by his fingers echoes around you both. 

“You are so beautiful,” he utters as he kisses you. 

You tug at the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down over his ass to release his cock. Stroking the thickness of it in your palm as he circles your clit with his thumb, two fingers buried deep inside you and rubbing against that spot inside that makes your thighs shake. 

“I need you, Marcus.”

“Mmm, you can have me, sweetheart. Anytime you want…” He croons, running his lips over your collarbone. 

“Oh really?” You smirk. 

“I’m completely yours.” And with the look in his eyes you believe him.

He is yours, yours to keep and love and grow old with if you want him - it's all there, deep in the golden swirls of his irises. A lifetime together; an irrevocable happiness that you’ve been searching for your entire life. 

“Mine.” You repeat, pulling his face up and kissing him. 

He lowers himself down, cock brushing against your folds as you groan. He pulls back to watch, teasing his thick head through those slick lips, watching as he slowly disappears inside them with a wet pop. 

“Oh fuck…” he sweetly blasphemes, teeth griding tight.

He guides himself in, pushing gently with his hips as he crests through your tight hole. You’re so wet, dripping for him, that he slides in with ease. 

You gasp at the thickness of him, the jolt as he runs his thumb over your clit as he slides in, cock filling you and stretching you around him. 

His body is so warm and you can't stop touching him, stroking his skin and planting kisses all over it.

His lips move across your own, inking breaths and dizzy chants into the layers. “Feels so good, feels so good, feels so good…”

“Oh God,” you breathe. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you feel really good.” It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. Smooth and deep as he fills you up, connects himself to you on a level that transcends the basic intimacy of sex. 

“I know, baby. God, you’re so tight. Ah, shit…” Marcus groans, eyes rolling back. 

“Kiss me,” you plead, your tongue slipping into his mouth as he moves. Hips languidly rotating and thrusting slowly as he bottoms out.  

You cry out when he does, fingers gripping into flesh, hot pants sinking into his pores. 

“Can you feel me, right there?” He gasps, pushing himself as deep into you as he’ll go. 

“Yes… God, yes!” 

He watches as your eyes squeeze shut, how your teeth bite down on your lip as you moan and pant; feels how you clench tighter and more erratically around him the closer you get to your orgasm. 

Your mouth chases his fingers, open and wanting as his thumb brushes down the side of your cheek and over your lips. Gentle, rhythmic strokes become harder and deeper as he’s utterly possessed by you, eyes rolling back and jaw slack as you feel every inch of him.

He squeezes over your ass, thighs, breasts, staring at you, completely captivated. 

“You wanna ride me?” Marcus suggests with a coy smirk and apple flushed cheeks. 

“God yes!” You hum excitedly.

You straddle him again and lower yourself down, his cock packing you out once more. 

“Oh shit, Marcus!”

“Sweetheart-” he groans as you sit all the way down.

“Oh my God, that’s so deep,” you whine, your hands clawing at his chest. 

You start to move, feeling so full and he groans looking up at you. 

“Oh fuck, just like that,” he whines.

He feels incredible, looks stunning with his head thrown back on the couch as his cheeks keep that gorgeous pink hue and his rich cocoa eyes look deeply into you. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” His fingers are felt on the back of your bare head, stroking softly as he kisses you. And it feels incredible to have him touch you so intimately like this. 

You lick into his mouth making him smile and grunt as you ride a bit faster, his cock hitting you so deep with each movement. 

He groans out when he feels you come around him, squeezing his cock tighter and making him work harder through it. Squeezing and contracting as your slick soaks him. 

“God, you’re even more beautiful when you’re coming all over my cock,” he puffs. 

“You’re amazing,” you pant.

“It’s all you, sweetheart. Trust me.” Marcus groans. “Can you take it a little harder?”

“I’ll take it anyway you want to give it to me.” You smile. 

“Oh, baby.” He fucks up into you harder, loud repetitive slaps fill the lounge along with your sweet, caustic whines as you build. “There are so many ways I wanna give to you.”

“Tell me,” you hum. 

He smirks before licking across your nipple, eyes looking up at you the whole time. “From behind… up against the wall… on the kitchen counter.”

“Mmm,” you whine. You reach down to stroke your clit, gasping as your fingers swirl around in the immense wetness down there. 

“Mmm, fuck.” He groans watching you do it as he continues to push up into you. “Yeah. Stroke that gorgeous clit for me,” he grunts. 

“How else do you want me?” You pant.

You can feel it, rising in your chest, glittering behind your eyes. The building as your peak finds you amongst the heady bliss. 

“In the back of my car… handcuffed to my bed railing and unable to escape while I taste you for hours…” 

“Fuck!” Your legs start to shake once more, your back arching and your breasts pushed further towards his face. You lean back, gripping onto his thighs, hips bouncing as you chase that feeling so gluttonously.

“Look at me, let me see you come again, beautiful.”

It’s almost unbearable, the way he looks at you, his eyes filled with so much adoration that it threatens to spill out of your own.

He gasps, panting with you, enthralled and enraptured as you come undone completely around him, and he swears he's never seen anything more stunning in his life.

He absorbs that moment wholly, when the euphoria takes over your face, as your raspy yells of his name fall into silk whispers around his face. How you continue to bounce with fervour on his cock long after the shakes have dissipated from your bones. 

“That’s it, that’s it… Oh God!” Marcus whispers, mouth curving into an astonished arc as that dimple reveals itself again. “You’re gonna make me come, sweetheart.”

“I want you to.” You whisper. "Come for me, Marcus."

“Can I come inside you?”

You nod as you press your mouth to his, swallowing his tongue as his grip tightens around you.

He slows right down, sliding up into you with deep, purposeful strokes and you feel him twitch before he groans out, long and low as he comes. 

Marcus pulls out, watching the pearly white fluid drip out of you, gathering it on his pulsing head and slips it back inside you. 

You both mewl together as he does it, his face falling into your chest and sighing out. 

“Wow…”

“Yeah.” You agree breathlessly. 

“Stunning,” Marcus whispers as he runs his nose up your cheek and plants another kiss against your smooth crown. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

You smile, eyelashes fluttering against his jaw as you wrap him tightly in your arms, never wanting to let him go.

You know that right here, in this moment and held in the safety of his arms, you’ve found something truly special. 

“You still wanna stay?” He asks you. 

You nod, smiling with a satiated beam. “If you’ll have me?”

“I’ll always have you. And I’ll always want you.” Marcus says.

The cap feels so soft and silken against your skin as you nestle down into the soft pillows, and watch Marcus come back in from the bathroom.

Gloriously naked and crawling up the bed, he trails kisses up your legs, stomach and neck until he reaches your lips. 

“Looks really good on you,” he compliments and you smile. 

“Thank you again,” you say, pulling him close. 

“Anything for you. I can’t wait to wake up with you in the morning,” he yawns, a lone finger trailing the rim of your cap and down your cheek. 

“Flaking out on me already, Agent?” You smirk as you wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Mmm, you’re insatiable, aren’t you?” Marcus grins, nuzzling into your neck and sucking it gently into his mouth.

He relaxes against you as you stroke patterns over his broad back. 

This feels good. Really good. A feeling you definitely want to get used to as you take in the feel of him crushed on top of you, arms holding you close, his hair tickling the bottom of your jaw.

This right here, is all you’ve ever wanted. And Marcus is willing to give it all to you. You feel like you've hit the jackpot and can’t stop grinning. 

“Marcus?” You whisper.

“Mmm?” He sighs softly. 

“Thank you for accepting the real me.” 

The gentle snuffles of his light snores soon fill the room and you beam, reaching up to stroke over the silk of the cap, smiling at how you’ve found such a caring and thoughtful man who thinks you’re incredibly beautiful.

And as you drift off to sleep, you're convinced you hear him whisper to you:"I love the real you..."

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Marcus, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fluff #bodies series #real bodies #diversity #inclusivity #every body is beautiful #jett's writing

[vintageshanny]

Taste of the Ocean

Content: A somewhat dejected Elvis invites his girlfriend on a vacation to cheer him up after filming Blue Hawaii. Smut ensues. (Please suspend disbelief that some of these actions might not be practical in the ocean, and you will enjoy this a lot more 😉). Written in response to the request below. 18+

Hi. May I request an early 60s Elvis in which he is with female reader at Hawaii for vacation and he is like very horny for her, even though she doesn't provoke him. Very detailed and passionate smut please and thank you.

April 1961

“This was a nice idea, honey,” Elvis said as he stared up at the crescent moon casting a glow over the water. “I’m glad ya talked me into a midnight swim.”

“Me too,” you smiled. “It’s nice that you decided to stay a few days after filming for a vacation. Thanks for inviting me.”

Elvis turned his gaze from the moon back to your face, looking slightly surprised. “Of course, baby. Y-y-y’know how much I missed ya.”

You actually were never really sure how much he missed you, if at all. He always seemed to enjoy your time together in Memphis, and he said all the right things, things that you were fairly certain he believed in the moment when he said them. The first time you’d heard rumors of him and a co-star, he’d insisted that the studio put these stories out to get people talking about the movie. You wanted to believe that was true, but you weren’t so naive as to think he would never be tempted to seek the comfort of another woman when he was gone on these movie shoots. Especially after everything he’d been through these last few years. You’d made a conscious decision to trust his words to you over any rumors and give him all the comfort and support you could in the moments when you were together. He always gave so much of himself, it only seemed right that he deserved this in return.

In his uncanny way of reading your thoughts, Elvis smiled sheepishly as he brushed a wet lock of hair off your shoulder. “Thanks for always bein’ here when I need ya, baby. It’s been a really stressful shoot,” he added with a sigh. “Each movie I make seems ta get worse.”

“You know what helps with stress? Floating on your back,” you said with a smile.

“Is that right?” Elvis smirked. “This isn’t jus’ you tryin’ ta get a better view of me in these tiny swim shorts I swiped from the set?” he teased.

“What? I would never!” you giggled, feigning innocence, glad that your blushing face was at least partially obscured by the cover of night. “I’ll even demonstrate for you.” You leaned back, letting your body float on the water, rocked by its gentle movements. “See? All the stress is just melting away,” you announced with a grin.

Elvis looked down at the peaceful expression on your face, your beauty seeming to glow in the moonlight. His eyes moved down to where your breasts swayed up and down in time with the water, barely covered by your white bikini top, then continued over the curve of your hips to that spot he knew was just for him. He could feel his swim shorts growing even tighter as he took note of the curly little hairs escaping from your swimsuit bottom.

“This is a nice bathing suit, honey,” he murmured as he fiddled with the strings that tied at your hips, a warmth continuing to consume him.

“Thanks,” you whispered, smiling a little bit. You didn’t normally wear such a risque suit, but you’d wanted to make sure you’d get his attention back from…wherever it might have wandered in the last couple months. “Why don’t you try floating?”

“Baby, I’m floatin’ on cloud nine jus’ lookin’ at how beautiful you are.” Elvis slowly started to pull on the strings that he’d been playing with. “There’s really only one thing that could make me feel even better.”

Your eyes popped open as you realized that Elvis had deftly untied and removed your bikini bottom. “What are you doing? Elvis, someone might see!”

“Shh, honey, it’s dark and ain’t nobody out here but us.” He tucked your suit bottom into the front of his shorts, his hardened dick having created a convenient little tent for it. “Lemme show ya how much I’ve missed ya.” You shivered a little as Elvis’ fingertips ghosted over your fuzzy mound and pushed your legs open, letting the moonlight bathe your throbbing pussy. “Damn honey, look atcha all wet for me already,” he groaned, spreading your lips and running a finger through your soft folds.

“It’s, it’s cuz we’re in the ocean,” you sputtered out, trying your best to stay still and keep floating.

Elvis leaned down and licked right down your center with his thick tongue before pulling back with that big goofy grin. “Nah, baby, that ain’t the ocean, that’s the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted. Ya been savin’ that sweet cream for me?”

You nodded, moaning with pleasure as Elvis dove back between your thighs. As you started writhing with pleasure, he used one strong hand to support your back so you wouldn’t sink under the water. The other one wrapped around one of your thighs and kept you firmly pressed against his face, his tongue dancing over your clit, alternately flicking and sucking it. Elvis continued lapping at you, the saltiness of the ocean mixing with the sweet and tangy flavor of your arousal. By the time his tongue pushed its way into your tight little opening, his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit, you were ready to explode with desire. All you could do was hope that your intense moans didn’t carry too far through the warm Hawaiian breeze.

After licking up every last drop of you, Elvis gently released his hold on you, your legs sinking down onto somewhat solid ground, your toes burrowing into the sandy ocean floor.

“Is that the kind of stress relief ya had in mind while floatin’ on your back?” Elvis’ breath tickled your ear as he pulled you close. You could feel under the water that he desperately needed some relief of his own.

“Better than anything I could imagine,” you whispered back. “Now it’s your turn.” You reached for his waistband, letting your fingers trail over his bulge, his body giving an involuntary little shudder.

“Oh, honey, ya ain’t gotta do that out here,” he protested weakly.

“I want to,” you insisted softly. “I missed you too, y’know.”

“Oh yeah?” he smiled. “What did ya miss the most about me?”

“Well, for one thing, I had no one to make me laugh like you do.” You tugged the tiny swim shorts down his legs and helped him step out of them, gripping them in your hand so they wouldn’t float away.

“And seeing me naked is gonna help with that?” Elvis’ mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh at his own joke. He leaned back and allowed his body to float to the surface, his pulsing dick on full display.

“No baby,” you teased back, wrapping your hand around him. Your insides tingled at the way the brown hairs at his base seemed to float around in the water. “This is no laughing matter. You could injure someone with this. It’s dangerous.” Elvis’ loud burst of laughter quickly turned to a moan as you took him in your mouth, your tongue caressing every inch of him. You could feel his sensitive tip graze the back of your throat as you took him in as deep as you could. As his body started thrashing about from the pleasure, you tried to support his back the way he had done with you, but before you could get a good grip on him, the force of his movements had pulled you both under the water.

“Wh-wh-what are ya tryin’ ta do, mama? Drown me?” He came up spitting out water and laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

You giggled too and spit out the salty water that had filled your mouth. “I’m sorry, you were moving around too much!”

“Well what do ya expect honey? Ya takin’ me all the way to the base makes me feel some kinda way. I-I can’t control it.”

“Hmm, maybe we’ll have to find a different way to relieve your stress,” you purred in his ear, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I think I know jus’ the thing, baby,” he growled softly, giving your ear a nibble as he reach down and lined himself up with you under the water.

“Oh, God,” you moaned out as he pushed inside of you, stretching your opening around his thickness.

“It’s jus me, baby, but ya ain’t been the first ta get us confused,” he teased as he held your body down on his cock.

“Ha,” you tried to laugh at his joke, but the feeling of him deep inside of you had you in some kind of alternate reality where all you could experience was pleasure.

“Ohh, baby,” Elvis groaned as he gently lifted you and brought you back down on him. He could feel his dick twitching inside of you, releasing all the tension and stress that had built up inside of him. “Oh, shit, uhh, that feels so good honey.” With one last thrust upward, he stilled his movements and just hugged you tightly to him, burying his face in your neck, his soft lips pressed against your skin.

“How do you feel now?” you whispered, stroking his wet hair, feeling his chest heave up and down with the release of emotion.

“The best back float I’ve ever done,” he said, looking up at you with a smile. He tried to ignore the thought that popped into his brain next. You’ve had your moment of freedom in the ocean. Now on to the next crappy movie. Instead he squeezed your hand and asked, “Ya ready ta go inside?” You nodded and held his swimsuit out to him. “Gonna be fun tryin’ ta put these wet shorts back on in the water,” he chuckled.

“Wait, where’s the bottom to my suit?” you asked in a panic.

“Uh oh, it was wrapped up in my shorts, honey, and it ain’t there no more.” You could see Elvis trying to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not funny! How am I supposed to get out now?” you yelped.

“Hmm, I guess we’re jus’ stuck out here forever,” he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “But at least we have these flotation devices.” He sneakily started to untie your top as well. “Might as well take this off too,” he murmured as he flung it to the side and wrapped his lips around one of your bare nipples, grazing it gently with his teeth.

“Mmm,” you moaned, holding tightly to him. “I think I’d love being stuck here with you.” You could feel his arousal growing again.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114

#elvis #elvis fan fiction #elvis fan fic #elvis smut #elvis x reader #i love this man

[sakufilms]

moon drops ; msk

𓂃 ⋆ 𓈒 masterlist

⌁ miyawaki sakura x gn!reader

⌁ sakura admires you under the moonlight. // fluff, romantic.

⌁ 0.3k words (drabble)

! : sakura calls r “beautiful”, kissing.

✐ just something short and sweet for my girl kkura

The softness of the blanket you lied on top of could never compare to the softness of Sakura's fingers trailing up and down your arm. It was comforting, and sweet. She held you close as you bathed under the moonlight.

Your eyes focused on the moon above—she was entranced by you. The curve of your jaw, your soft lips pulled into the faintest of smiles, and your eyes. They glinted under the moonlight, shining like they were pooling with moon drops. When they looked at her, however, all she'd ever see is adoration, filling them, and making her heart warm. She didn't need a photo taken to know that she looked at you the same.

“You're beautiful." Sakura said softly, giggling at the way you looked at her shocked, surprised at the sudden compliment. You were entranced by her, now—she had you in the palm of her hand. “I mean it." She said, her smile growing. A feline smile, rosy cheeks, and crescent eyes. You wished that you had told her how much of an art she was first. If she didn't belong in a museum, then she belonged in the stars. She shined like one, and you'd always admire her like one.

Sakura put her hand on your cheek, and the stars and the moon and the sounds of the night disappeared. All you had was her, and she had you, too.

"You're beautiful, too." You said. Sakura's smile grew softer, her lips coming back together, her eyes flickering down to your lips. Sakura made you feel more special than anyone else.

She leaned in closer, every centimetre ignited butterflies in your stomach. When her lips met yours, the butterflies were set free, and you felt that you were drowning in moon drops. The world around you came rushing back and you were nothing at all. You were nothing and you were everything. You were hers, until the moon drops ran dry.

@ sakufilms

#♡.lsfm #miyawaki sakura #le sserafim #miyawaki sakura x reader #miyawaki sakura x you #miyawaki sakura x yn #miyawaki sakura x y/n #le sserafim x y/n #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim x you #le sserafim x yn #fluff #gn reader #gender neutral reader #all my works

[dilf-whore]

my kind of girl (part 2)

previous || next

pairing: billy hargrove x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers! , fluff, mentions of Neil

summary: you grow closer and closer with the redhead you tutor... and maybe with her stepbrother too

A/N: hi! i’m so glad you guys liked the first part! i hope you enjoy this too. please do let me know if you want to be tagged to the next parts! 𓆩♡𓆪. send in you requests as well! also this is not proofread.

requested: no

requests are OPEN

masterlist

・°☆

You park your car and walk towards Hawkins High, slinging your bag over your shoulders. The sun keeps you warm as you continue your way to the campus. When you almost reach your destination, you spot a group of people beside the entrance - laughing and talking obnoxiously over god knows what. The nearer you get, the easier it was for you to recognize the blonde boy with a girl clinging on her side who was already focused on you the moment he saw you make your way to school.

It’s Billy Hargrove and - not Carol you thought.

You felt uneasy once you noticed the pair of eyes looking at you. You weren't sure if he was checking you out or judging you, but you were certain he never looked away. 

A flirty smile forms on Billy’s face, “Good morning Y/N” 

You heart skipped a beat. Never would you have thought that Billy out of all people would greet you or remember your name.

“Hi Billy” you smile back.

“Are you teaching Max again later?”

“Yup”

You pace to your locker, still couldn't believe the small conversation you had with him. You felt your cheeks warm up and butterflies swarmed in your stomach. God he does have an effect on girls.

・°☆

“Alright boys that’s enough for today! Good job. And you, Hargrove keep your head on the game next time yeah?”

Billy nods and grabs his towel, heading to the shower room. He turns the water on - cold liquid pouring down his body as he gets lost in his thoughts. 

He goes back to the interaction he had with you. He recalls how the sun light adorned your figure, how your eyes curve into crescent moon-like shape when you smile. He swore everything slowed down when he laid his eyes on you, his mind were even having a debate as to what to tell you this morning and Billy Hargrove never run out of words to say.

He felt different, it was weird to him.

“Dude are you gonna use the soap or what?”  Tommy interrupts his thoughts.

“Oh yeah sorry, you can use it first” He reply.

“You okay? You’ve been out of it since the game, still stuck in fairyland?” Tommy teases.

・°☆

The bell rings and you start to pack your things. You grab your car keys from your pocket and made your way to your car outside. 

You place your bag and books you’ll use for your session with Max on the passenger seat. As you turn your key, the car starts sputtering.

“Please not now” you tell yourself.

You try again a few times until finally, your car cooperated.

The ride to Max’s was quiet, your mind kept coming back from this morning. Blushing every time you think about the way Billy looked at you, and how his voice just sends a weird tingling feeling down your spine.

Stop it., He’s like that to every girl

You arrive to the house and knocked on the door. Max opens it, eyes twinkling with so much happiness. She quickly brings out a piece of paper that had a big B written with red ink on it. She lets out a small squeal, anticipating your reaction.

Your eyes grow wide and you bring Max in a huge embrace - jumping up and down. “Look at that! you did it Max! I told you” 

“Thanks to you, hope to get an A+ next time”

“You will, I know you will” 

As the both of you chatter in excitement, Billy watches from the kitchen as he gets a can of beer from the fridge. A small smile plastered on his face.

“Shall we start?” you ask Max.

“Let’s gooo!” she reply as she grabs your hand and pull you to her room.

・°☆

Max lets out a tired sigh. Today’s session was hard, it was all memorization of historic dates, names of people and definitions that just made her head explode.

You get your bag from under the table and took a bunch of index cards compiled by a metal ring. “Here, I made you flashcards so it’ll be easier to memorize them”

Max grabbed them and flipped through the cards - analyzing them with furrowed eyebrows.

“Take it easy okay? I had a hard time when I studied that too” You reassure.

Max nods her head and set aside the flashcards.

“I know it’s just that I don’t want to disappoint my mom you know? If I do good in all of these, she’ll be proud and when that happens Neil would be less of a jerk to me”

You look at her and rub her back, “Don’t say that, your mom is very proud of you. The way she looks at you? It’s like you’re the most precious thing in the world, her treasure. When she talks to me about you, her face lightens up and talks about how hardworking you are and how you’re so good with skateboarding”

“Really?”

“Yup. Really” You give her a small smile.

“Wow, uhm I guess, Neil is just a big asshole. I mean, he’s a jerk to his own son too” she shrugs.

“If you need someone, you can talk to me okay?” you say with a concerned tone.

・°☆

You open the driver’s seat and try starting your car but all it did was sputter like a coughing old man about to die. You check the gas and see that it was pretty well filled up. You try again and again but it won’t budge. Frustrated, you hit the steering wheel “stupid old fucking car”.

You get out and open your car’s hood, smoke coming out of it. 

“Fuck!” you had no idea how to fix it, it seemed pretty bad - too bad for your car mending skills.

“Need help?” You hear from behind, the same voice that send those weird shivers to your body. You turn around and see Billy walking towards you.

“Y-yes please, I don’t know how to fix it”

He looks at the hood and examines it, “It’s pretty bad, it might take me a few days to fix it. Give or take 3-4 days maybe”

“What? That can’t be, how will I-”

“I’ll take you home with my car, and to school” he cuts in.

“Are you sure? I can just walk you know”

“I’m sure, don’t want you going out there alone” He says, giving you a playful smirk.

“Come on let’s go Y/N”

・°☆

taglist: @slytherinintj13​ @shatfairy​ @ribyourtoplip​ @1950schick​

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcannons #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things scenarios #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove headcannons #billy hargrove scenarios #dacre montgomery

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 31: Betrayal

Continuation of Day 29

Read it on Ao3

- First & the Chain

- Summary: The heroes are forced to fight First

CW for temporary character deaths (two to be exact), blood and injury, and possession

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

Sky awakens to the sound of someone crying out.

He shoots upward, eyes wide, searching in the darkness for the disturbance. It is difficult to make out anything for a few long moments. His vision is blurred with the remnants of the deep slumber he had been drifting in, mind fuzzy with the pulsing panic of adrenaline. But then he turns toward where Time had lain down hours ago, a short ways from the others, and his heart stutters.

The hero is no longer sleeping peacefully on his bed mat. It lies in a crumpled mess of strewn blankets. And not far from it, Time has fallen flat on his back, arms spread out on either side of him. When Sky leans forward, he can make out what looks like a dagger embedded in the palm of each hand. The hero struggles against them, breath ragged with pain, eye bright. 

He casts Sky a look that screams to run, to get far away. But Sky isn’t about to. Especially once his gaze drags upward to take in this new attacker.

A familiar figure looms just above Time, tall and lean and gripping a gleaming sword in his hand. His blonde hair is illuminated by the crimson glow of the fire, turning it the golden color of a rupee. His blue eyes are as dark as the night sky, glinting with a look Sky has never seen within them before. His prized red cape drapes over his shoulder to flow out behind him, softly lifted by the breeze. 

Sky gasps. 

“First?”

He croaks the name, almost unable to bring himself to speak it.

Those eyes flit to him, lips curving in a grin that looks nothing like the smiles Sky usually sees on his friend’s face. 

(His brother’s face. His predecessor’s face.)

“Surprised, Knight of Skyloft?”

Sky pushes off his blankets, rising slowly. He feels as though he is moving through mud, trying and failing to comprehend what is happening. 

First had shown up several months ago, stumbling into their camp severely wounded, weak, and confused. He was a hero, he had explained while Hyrule and Warriors had bandaged and healed his many injuries. The first of them all. After dying in a brutal war in his own time the Shadow had dragged him back to the land of the living.

“He meant to use me,” First had said, eyes flashing with bitter hatred. “He attempted to invade my mind to make me his pawn. That way, through me he could do all of you in.”

But Hylia had protected him, strengthened his mind and body long enough for him to escape, and make it here — to where his spirit had led his failing feet.

Since then, First had remained with them, healing and getting to know them. The heroes had come to trust him and he them. And Sky, Sky had been the closest to him of them all. 

At last, he had someone with which to share the burden of being one of the first. At last, he had a mentor of his own, someone he shared a connection with like Legend and Hyrule or Twilight and Wild and Time. 

And when he had broken down one night beneath the weight of the curse, First had comforted him, holding him close as he sobbed years worth of pain into his worn cape.

So, reconciling that man with a kind heart and a brave soul, reconciling someone he had come to admire with this…this monster is incredibly difficult.

“What are you doing?” He chokes, fists clenching at his sides. 

First grins. In the dim glow of a crescent moon Sky can just make out a dark trail of blood trickling from his lips down to his chin. 

“I am erasing you all from history. Just as he wanted me to.”

Sky’s hands itch for a weapon and he hates himself for it. 

“The Shadow?”

“No.”

First lifts his sword. Time drags in a gasp, still struggling vainly, weakly against the bloodied knives pinning him and First’s foot pressing against his chest. Eyes wide, Sky snatches the Master Sword up from her place beside his bed mat and lunges.

He is too late.

First utters one word, one name Sky never thought he would have to hear again. 

“Demise.”

And he plunges his sword into Time’s chest. 

The hero gives a choked cry, blood bubbling from his lips. And abruptly, goes still. 

Everyone is awake now, rubbing sleep from their eyes, asking questions in the slurred voices of those still half-asleep. 

But Sky can’t reply to any of them. He stands there, sword in hand, mouth open in disbelief, tears beginning to well in his eyes. And Time gazes back. His stare is empty. His chest doesn’t rise or fall.

When First yanks his weapon out of him with a sickening sound, the hero doesn’t even twitch. 

Sky blinks rapidly, fury and pain tearing his insides apart.

“Time!”

Wind’s heartbroken cry rends the air. Running footsteps sound and suddenly the heroes are all rushing forward, falling to their knees beside their fallen leader. 

“He’s not gone,” the sailor chokes, even as Warriors’ trembling fingers find Time’s wrist, shoulders hunching with a brokenness Sky has never witnessed in the knight before. Even as Twilight looks up at First, face deathly pale and rage in his eyes.  

“He can’t be.”

“He’s gone, sailor.” Warriors puts his arms around Wind, holding him close as he cries. “Sprite’s gone.”

“What’re we gonna tell Malon?” It’s Legend now, defeat practically emanating from him. Though he is trying to restrain himself, his eyes are red-rimmed and brimming over with tears.

A laugh rings out over the clearing, splitting through the thick haze of grief and anger and paralyzing disbelief. Though it emanates from First, it sounds nothing at all like him.

“Cry over him,” he growls. “Weep and wail like wandering wraiths. It won’t bring him back to you.”

“You did this.” Wild’s voice trembles with the weight of his anger. He rises, hands clenched into fists “Why? We trusted you, protected you, healed you. You’re our brother! A fellow hero! And-and yet…you kill him just like that?!”

First chuckles. Blood travels down his cheek in a grim line, strangely reminiscent of a tear trail.

“I killed him because it is what Demise wishes for me to do. Please, do not misunderstand. I have no desires of my own. Only his.”

Legend’s eyes narrow. “So what? You want us to believe this isn’t your fault? That – I don’t know – you’re still dead? Nothing more than a corpse for him to use?”

Twilight makes a choked noise. “He’s not dead. This…this Demise is inside of him. Inside his mind.” 

He raises his eyes to First again and another emotion has joined the anger in their stormy gray depths. Sky can’t identify it. He can hardly bring his thoughts into submission as it is. Can hardly comprehend anything past the fury and sorrow breaking his heart into a million pieces. 

“Isn’t he?” The rancher asks. “He’s possessed you? Made you his puppet?”

First’s eyes glint in the darkness. “Ah, you have seen it before, haven’t you, Hero of Twilight? It was Zelda, wasn’t it? Your precious princess. Have you told your friends how you had to plunge your sword into her?”

Sky’s eyes widen as a sudden realization hits him.

First is stalling, they all know it, waiting for the best moment to take them all out. But if he is telling the truth about Demise possessing him there might be a way to protect his brothers from a terrible fate. He looks down at the Master Sword, heart in his throat. 

There might be a way to set First free.

“We don’t care what rancher did or didn’t do,” Wild snaps. “We care about what we just saw you do.” He draws a dagger from his belt and jabs it in First’s direction. His hand trembles. “You killed Time. You took him from us. I won’t let you touch anyone else.”

“Neither will I.”

Sky rushes forward just as First raises his sword, ready to strike Wild down. His weapon collides with First’s, sending searing pain through Sky’s palm.

Sorry, Fi. But I have to do this. 

The hero’s eyes blow wide in surprise, then narrow. He laughs, darkly.

“Ah, you’re a quick one. I should have expected as much.” He parries Sky’s next blow, movements smooth and swift. “However, you cannot raise that against me. I am a hero remember? The pain will overcome you before you manage to land even a strike on my skin.”

Sky grits his teeth, lunging again, every swipe deadly and vicious. The hilt burns into his flesh and the acrid scent of it burning reaches his nose. He does his best to ignore it. 

The others drag themselves up now, grabbing weapons and tools, and wiping away tears. They rush forward, determination in their movements, anger in their eyes. 

There will be time for grief later. Now is the time to fight. For their lives. For the life Time lost. 

First is every bit as fast and skilled as Sky had thought he was. But even he cannot hold out forever, especially not against multiple opponents. Opponents as experienced as him and one hundred times more driven.

He just has to bide his time, Sky thinks as First just barely dodges a skyward strike and nearly ends up skewered on Twilight’s sword. And endure the pain as best he can. An opening will present itself. Sooner rather than later, more than likely. It doesn’t take an experienced eye to tell that the hero is losing his advantage and fast.

And when finally, he stumbles, trying to evade a well-timed attack by Wind, and loses his balance Sky is ready for him.

Agony splitting through his hand, vision bleeding white, he brings the sword down. It goes against everything within him. His very soul cries out against it. But he solidifies the sight of Time lying limp and lifeless in his mind, and forces his arms to move.

With deadly accuracy, the Master Sword pierces First’s shoulder through.

First screams, a wretched sound that echoes in Sky’s ears and bounces around in his skull. Back arching, body trembling, his eyes go an unsettling pupil-less black. And in the next moment a cloud of smothering, soul-crushing darkness flees his body.

Sky leaps back just in time to evade its reach. It soars upward to dissipate into the sky. 

The hero goes still. Everything is quiet, save for the sounds of the heroes sheathing their weapons. Slowly, Sky steps forward. Grasping the hilt, he drags the Master Sword out of his brother, feeling horribly ill. 

I’m so sorry.

No sooner is the blade free, than First awakens with a gasp. Blue eyes flit about, searching for answers where there are none. Calloused hands grapple for purchase as he shoves himself upward. No one dares stop him, though Sky can’t help rushing to his side when he lets out a low groan. 

“What…” First glances at him, then at the other heroes, who gaze down upon him with broken expressions. “What happened?” 

His gaze lands on Time’s body, still lying there spread out like a fallen star, basking in a pool of blood and he chokes, face going white.

“What did I do?”

It’s a whisper, broken beyond belief. Sky closes his eyes. Reaching out, he lays a hand on the knight’s shoulder. He is trembling, violently, breath coming in haggard gasps.

“It wasn’t you,” Sky says with all the strength he can conjure. It isn’t much, but he believes it nonetheless. This is his brother, sitting before him, his true brother. And that cursed god had used him like a lifeless pawn.

“Demise possessed you,” Twilight pipes up. His voice is hoarse and there are tears in his eyes. But there is conviction in them too, now. None of them can deny what has happened. None of them can stand to pin the guilt on someone whose own hands had betrayed his very spirit.

Sky knows for a fact many of them have seen things like this before. And while he himself hasn’t, he has witnessed Demise’s cruelty and power. What horrors First must have endured at his hand to break him so completely… He doesn’t even want to imagine it.

“I killed him.” First’s voice is dull now, almost eerily emotionless. “Did I not? Though it was Demise who held my mind and soul captive, it was I who did the deed. That cannot be denied.”

“H-he used you,” Wind hiccups. “You…you can’t blame your-yourself.”

“Sprite wouldn’t want you to.” Warriors says it so low Sky can hardly catch the words. But First hears them. He looks up at the captain, expression a mask that is rapidly breaking.

“You do not deserve such pain.” Gently, he nudges Sky’s hand off and rises on shaky legs. “None of you do.”

“He’s dead, though,” Legend mumbles. There is no bite in his tone. Only sorrow. “Sorry, but nothing you do can change that.”

First smiles, small and sad. “That is not necessarily true.”

He walks to Time’s side and kneels down, heedless of the blood that seeps into his trousers. Slowly, he reaches out and lays a hand on the hero’s shoulder. Beneath his palm golden light begins to glow.

“I know a spell. I can bring him back.”

Hyrule raises his head, frowning. “But the only spells that can bring…bring back the dead are – ” His eyes widen. “First, no!”

The hero closes his eyes, that horrible smile still lifting his lips. 

“Forgive me.”

The glow grows until it is blinding. Sky pushes through it anyway, panic eating away at him. Hyrule doesn’t even have to speak the words. He knows enough about magic to know nothing that deals in life and death ever ends well.

Just as he reaches his side, First crumples.

…and Time begins to breathe.

Sky falls to his knees. The others are talking in panicked tones around him, but he can’t hear their words. All he hears is an incessant ringing, mingled with the sound of his own breathing, too loud, much too loud. All he feels is First’s body, limp in his hands as he lifts it from the ground. 

Why? He asks, in the form of the tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks, in the shaking of his hands, the defeated exhaustion creeping in to pull him down, down, down. We could’ve figured out another way. Why?

But even as he thinks it he knows. There was no other way. Fairies and potions are powerful. They cannot, however, revive the dead. Once your heart stops beating it is over. All that is left is to start over again or embrace endless rest.

Time would still be dead if not for First’s sacrifice. Sky only wishes that one brother had not been traded for another.

If he had been faster, stronger, perhaps he could have prevented all of this. But it is over now. Nothing more can be done.

So, as the sun peeks out over the horizon, Sky buries his face in First’s cape, just as he did what feels like an eternity ago. And he sobs. Sobs out the fury that eats him alive. Sobs out the anguish that tears him apart. 

He doesn’t see it when First begins to glow. It is not until a voice murmurs on the wings of the wind that he looks up, breath hitching.

“Your time is not yet finished, hero. Rise and embrace those who call you one of their own.”

And in the next moment, First drags in a strangled gasp.

He blinks his eyes open, staring up at Sky with a dazed expression and Sky stares back. Then, Legend shouts, “hey, he’s alive!” and his world bursts back into light and color.

“You’re alive,” he chokes, and pulls the hero into a hug. 

First goes rigid for a moment, then practically melts into him, releasing a shaky sigh.

“I am,” he whispers. “I’m here.”

#whumptober 2023 #no.31 #betrayal #linkeduniverse #fic #blood tw #injury tw #possession tw #temporary character death #trin writes #lu first #lu chain #lu sky #sorry the ending was kinda abrupt #i didn't know where else to go with it lol #just know they form a giant group hug around first and time after that #then go to beat the hell out of demise XD #anyway that's a wrap for whumptober! #this has been super fun #but i'm kinda glad it's over cause my brain's fried lol #tysm for everyone's support this month!

[groguspicklejar]

Beloved!Headcannons [Part Two]

Back at it again with snippets from your new favourite Din Djarin series❤️ I wrote this without editing, so please don't mind the mistakes, I'll get back to those later. Can't post anything much, but this is all I can give right now. So do enjoy💐

Warnings: Mentions of breasts and slightly steamy thoughts.

Din Wonders About Your Moon Tattoo

For the longest time, it's been bugging him since he saw it.

Since his fingers itched to trace its curve.

He wanted to touch it.

More importantly, he wanted to ask you about it

what it means

how you came to choose that one specifically.

He would see you take your shoes off in the hot climate of Sorgan and his mind automatically zones in on your ankles.

You would be playing in the river with the children, getting your clothes wet.

There were a few adults supervising the children to make sure none of them drown or worse— more raiders show up.

Today, it was his turn and yours to watch the kids.

A few others also came by to check on the children from time to time.

The villagers were still weary of invaders showing up to attack.

So the children were everyone's main concern.

Frankly, he wasn't sure why you didn't take off your dress when you went into the cool waters, but he wasn't about to complain

Because then—

Fuck.

And then your clothes would cling to your skin—

Your chest, your hips

All accentuated, for everyone to see

For him to see

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't remember how to.

Not when his lungs were failing him yet again.

You were going to kill him, he's sure of that.

It felt immoral to look at you like this

Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't think about you in that sense.

He couldn't help himself.

"See something you like, Mando?"

Cara was taunting him again with that stupid smirk of hers hiding behind her cup of spochka.

He ignores her, crossing his arms and purposefully manspreads on his chair.

"I still don't see a ring on her finger. Does that mean—"

"Shut up, Cara."

She'd chortle, shaking her head and got up from her chair.

"Don't throw the frog at me, you little womp rat!" you yelled, smiling at Winta

And then you got out to wring the edges of your dress

Din's eyes shift from where he was

And the could see it

Just barely

The little mark on your skin drawing his attention away from where he could see the outline of your breasts

You laughed heartily when you nearly slipped on the muddy bank and caught your balance

He instantly went to help you, offering his hand.

"Thank you, Mando." you grinned.

"No problem."

He watched as you pulled your sleeves up to your elbows.

"Here." he offered his cloak

"Thank you."

He was overjoyed when you used it to dry your face and wrapped it around your body.

"If I had known that one of the tiny terrors would push me in the water, I would've brought a towel."

He chuckled along with you.

Later that day, he found you taking a nap in the barn.

thankfully, in dry clothes

Careful not to disturb you, he walked in cautiously while looking for his knife and gloves.

He found them on the dresser.

Although, before he could grab them, he noticed something that raised the hairs on his neck.

Your feet were exposed.

So he stopped.

His whole body just stopped.

He knew he should just keep looking for his items, but he couldn't move.

Not when the light cast a glow on your ankles.

and there it was

clear as day

Against his better judgement, he sat down on your bed to get a better look.

His hand hovered over the tattoo

so close he could feet the heat of your skin on his

but not quite touching

It wouldn't feel right touching you without your knowledge

You had a particular aversion to physical contact with certain people

Children were fine

You were just playing with them in the river

But you don't like adults

He noticed this.

His hand never touched your skin.

Even if you were asleep and you wouldn't know, it wouldn't feel right

So he didn't.

His hand pulled away

Maker, what he'd do to kiss that crescent moon

He would ask you about it when the time was right.

Right now, he'll let you rest.

"Sweet dreams, Cyare." he whispered to you before he stood up.

The tattoo would haunt him for as long as he shall live.

And so did the memory of your dress clinging to you like a second skin.

His pants felt a little tighter for the rest of the day as he tried not to think about that.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@groguspawbeans

@graciexmarvel

@thirddeadlysin

@15letthegamesbegin15

@deceiverofgodss

@blub-senpai

@ayothatsano

@astrolockley

@minky77

@rennalouise

@sofsofsposts

@jreads

@dindarasuum

@dindjarinsmut

#beloved din djarin #beloved!headcannons #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #star wars fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #star wars #din and grogu #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mando x you #the mandolarian #mando x y/n #mando x reader #din x reader #sorgan #soft!din #Din my beloved

[kyufessions]

Parties

synopsis: you finally get the chance to talk to the handsome stranger you see at every party you attend

pairings: college boy! yangyang x plus size! g.n. reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: alcohol consumption

genre: fluff

a/n: just a small, shitty drabble

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana

you sat on the kitchen counter with a half filled solo cup, taking occasional sips as you watched the sweat bodies on the dance floor swing to mainstream music. drinking always made you feel tired after a while, especially if you were dancing and socializing all night at another random party. you might be an extrovert, sure. but even extroverts’ social batteries run low sometimes. and right now was one of those times for you. your eyes adverted to the bright crescent moon outside, the stars dancing with one another in a tango as the deepening dark sky hid behind transparent clouds.

taking another swig of the peach flavored alcohol, you pulled down your tight white dress that showed off your curves just right. one thing about you is that you never let anyone shit on you for your size. you loved every part of you and loved wearing clothing that showed it off. if a dress was just a bit tight or a shirt showed a bit of your stretch marks, you automatically got giddy and appreciated them. growing up, you were taught to hate every aspect of being plus sized. but as you grew older, you realized there was nothing wrong with it at all. the issue had always been with others, not yourself. and now being twenty-two, you embraced the body you lived in.

another couple stumbled into the kitchen to grab another drink, not even bothering to grab a cup and just stealing a whole bottle as they stumbled down the hall into a random room. you rolled your eyes at the two, having just seen the woman with another man an hour and a half ago who was supposed to be her boyfriend. nonetheless, you stayed out of her personal business and took another sip from the near empty solo cup.

deep in thought, your head shot up at the sound of someone else entering the kitchen with a stumble. you had looked over just in time to catch his stare as he tripped over his own two feet, catching himself on the kitchen island that had half empty alcohol bottles sprawled across it’s marbled surface. you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, causing the tips of his ears to burn with embarrassment. he stood up fully to his feet, dusting off his white button down awkwardly.

“you okay?” you asked the man as your laughter died down, shifting in your comfortable spot on the counter of the kitchen. you instantly recognized him from other parties you attended throughout the semester. you didn’t know his name though since neither of you interacted with one another, but you secretly hoped tonight would change things since you found him extremely attractive.

his lips turned into a small smile, letting out a chuckle before responding. “yeah, just a bit drunk i guess.” he picks up a large bottle of hennessy, filling up the two cups he entered with.

“you seem a bit more than drunk.” you commented, finishing off your drink as you jump down the counter to pour yourself some more. you pulled down your dress to make sure you didn’t just flash the handsome stranger.

he watched you fill your cup, having just finished filling up his cup for his friend and himself. “no, i’m just clumsy to be honest.”

you nodded as you leaned back on the counter behind you, taking a small sip of the strong liquor that burned your throat. “what’s your name then, clumsy stranger?”

he looked up to meet your eyes, noticing how they sparkled in the dimly lit room. the man couldn’t help but smile at your beauty. “yangyang. what’s yours?”

you caught his eyes looking you up and down, feeling your cheeks rise in heat as he did so. yangyang noticed the color in your face rise, hoping it was from his obvious flirting and not the drinks you had been consuming. “i’m y/n.”

“pretty name for a pretty baby, i see.”

your laughter filled the room, your smile making his heart do back flips. he couldn’t help but laugh along as well, appreciating the slight crinkle at the corner of your eyes as he did so. as the laughter died down, another person came into the room calling his name. both of your eyes left one another’s and landed on the stranger, whose eyes gazed between the two of you. when his friend noticed you standing there, he took a double take.

yangyang’s friend smiled to himself, grabbing one of the cups in yangyang’s hand as he pat him on the shoulder. “about fucking time.” and just like that, he left the kitchen and walked back out into the party.

you cocked your head to the side, raising a brow in curiosity as he looked back at you. “what was that about?”

he took a quick swig of his drink before scratching the back of his neck. “that was my friend ten.”

you nodded, staying silent as you encouraged him to continue. “and what did he mean when he said, ‘about fucking time’?”

the color in his cheeks rose, making you smile at how adorable he was coming across. your fingers tapped at the side of the cup, waiting for his response. “you see, i’ve been seeing you at almost every single party and always get scared to talk to you.”

“why would you be scared?”

he took another encouraging sip of hennessy, hoping the liquor would help with his confidence. fun fact: it didn’t. “you’re really hot and seem a bit intimidating.”

another laugh of yours bounced off the walls, making yangyang feel embarrassed. as you calmed down, you leaned forward on the island and placed your head in your hand. you stared at him through your lashes, smiling at him happily. “you’re cute, yangyang.”

you stood up to your feet, adjusting your dress as you walked around the counter and put down your cup of alcohol. yangyang watched you take his cup as well and set it down in the sink, replacing the cup with your hand and dragging him out towards the back door of the house.

“where we going?” he asked you, curiosity stringing in his mind. should he be following a sexy stranger out of a party where all his friends are, where he would probably be safest? probably not, but he was too tipsy to care.

you opened the back door, walking through the backyard and stopping at the fenced door to turn back and smile at him. “waffle house. for a date.” you nonchalantly responded.

a scoff escaped his lips, a playful smile following suit. “waffle house for our first date? really?”

you rolled your eyes as you opened the door and walked through it, letting go of his hand as you did so. “listen, i find you attractive and have been wanting to talk to you too. i don’t want to

waste this opportunity. it’s also,” you pause, taking your phone out of your bra and checking the time. “it’s also almost two in the morning and nothing else is open.”

he chuckled, smiling happily as he walked up to you and snaked his arms around your waist. you turned your head to look at yangyang as his head propped up on your shoulder, smiling down at the tipsy man. “i’ll buy then.”

#kyufessions nct #kyufessions wayv #wayv #nct wayv #wayv yangyang #wayv fluff #yangyang #yangyang fluff #nct yangyang #nct fluff

[sacredsanguine]

come gentle night, come loving black-brow'd night (joel x esme; joesme)

Neither Joel nor Esme keep particularly early nights, though it’s by occupational habit for one and occupational necessity for the other. Midnight is a fleeting moment; quiet, velvety darkness softens the first of its sixty seconds as Esme rolls to comb gentle fingers through Joel’s hair, thumb brushing tenderly over his forehead before her lips touch the spot where a few strands have rooted silver among rich deep brown.

“One.”

He stirs, dark eyes blinking up at her in the few precious seconds it takes for them to adjust to the low light, before a fond smile brings up the sides of Joel’s mouth, dimples warmly illuminated. One hand rises to brush softly against the side of Esme’s face and she leans into the familiar touch, a soft purring hum of contentment thrumming against warm calluses.

“It’s bedtime, love,” he hums, voice burred low and swirled with sleepy purple. “What are you doing?”

“Counting,” Esme answers. Her whisper slides into a soft giggle as Joel pulls her gently in for a kiss and she turns her head so his mouth lands on her cheek while she nuzzles into the side of his face instead. “Don’t make me lose my place! Or I’ll have to start over again…” The delighted, teasing sparkle in her eyes suggests she wouldn’t mind so much.

“Two,” she murmurs, as she turns to kiss the center of Joel’s palm, then each of his fingertips. “Three, four, five, six, seven.”

Esme nuzzles her face into the curve of Joel’s hand again before guiding it to rest on her back, warm through the chiffon of her chemise. “Eight,” she kisses softly into his left eyelid, followed by “Nine” into his right.

Her hands have been massaging his shoulders, thumbs working deep over trapezii to loosen the tension stored up there during the day, but as Esme adds to her counter with a trail of kisses and murmured numbers down Joel’s face, her hands glide up to cup his cheeks, tilting his head slightly to give her better access to every softly shadowed contour of his features.

“Thirty,” Esme whispers, a little teasing giggle curling over her voice as she leans in towards Joel’s lips, then swerves at the last second to kiss very deliberately at the corner of his mouth, then places the next over his dimples.

She pulls back just enough to look adoringly at him for a moment—thirty-three seconds of midnight taken so far, twenty-seven left to tick away—and smile, gold eyes curving into crescents like a summer moon hanging low and reflected in still water.

“Thirty-three.” A careful kiss over Joel’s freshly-shaven chin.

“Thirty-four.” Lips press soft to the cartilage at his throat and curve up sweetly when it bobs in response.

Esme’s smile brightens as she shifts her weight to lean over Joel’s face again, close enough to press their foreheads together. With twenty-three seconds of midnight left to slip between her fingers like unstrung pearls before she threads them between Joel’s, Esme’s lips brush against his. “Thirty-five. Happy birthday, my love.”

The kiss is tender, a celebration in its own quiet, precious trove of three seconds thrice over—not that Esme keeps a particularly faithful count beyond the first three, smiling into the kiss and losing herself in the feeling of something blooming warm and sweet like impossible sunshine between them.

Joel makes a soft sighing sound in the back of his throat when she pulls back, dark eyes bright and impossibly soft as Esme brushes a hand through his hair again. He cradles her face with one hand and tips her into another kiss, plush and deep as the dark night around them.

There’s an edge of mischief glinting over Esme’s reddened lower lip when she grins at Joel and traces a winding path down the column of his throat, touch lightening as her fingertip passes collarbone. “Still a few seconds left of midnight, and so much more of you to celebrate. I want to make sure you start today very happy.”

#some fluff for my faves was in order before i unleash the secret project i've been working on <3 #birthday cuties!!! #joesme #written in nectar #my pink rose faves forever and ever and ever

[pasukiyo]

𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | sebastian sallow

sebastian sallow x f!prefect reader note; hogwarts house is entirely up to you except gryffindor oops, reader and sebastian are both in the seventh year 1,302 words warnings; a little bit of a suggestive ending

 “perhaps, if you two are done arguing, it’s best if you return to your common room before i give you detention.”

 the two second year gryffindors jumped and squealed at her presence, the boy on the left nearly toppling over the boy on the right, in which his lips pursed and his eyebrows knit together in a scowl. “damn, prefect,” one of them muttered, and a chuckle bubbled in her chest. “and with that language, you’re lucky i can’t take points from other houses,” she mused. “now, to your common room!” the corners of her own lips curved into an amused smile as the two boys scattered away towards their common room, muttering insults to one another the entire way, sneaking glances back over their shoulder at her, as if to make sure she were still watching. 

 she spun around on her heel and continued further through the corridor, softly humming to a tune she’d heard in london during summer break. the hallways were silent, as they usually were at this time of night, save from the chattering coming from the portraits on the walls. her own shoes clicked against the stone floors and echoed throughout the hallway with each step she took, seemingly the only thing truly alive in the corridors. 

 that was, until she caught a glimpse of a familiar head of brown hair. 

 she gasped and stepped backwards when she saw it, clutching the wall she hid behind and poked her head out just enough to be able to peek at the boy sneaking his way through one of hogwarts’ many hallways. 

 it was none other than sebastian sallow, of course, a slytherin boy in the seventh year, same as she. she pressed her lips together as they curved into an amused grin whilst he turned his head from side to side, making sure his coast was clear. he seemed to have been staring at the wall she had sought shelter behind a moment too long, but if the thought that she, or another prefect, could be behind it crossed his mind, he certainly didn’t act on it. 

 the corner of his lips curled into a small smirk as he deemed it safe to come out of hiding, sauntering away from her, his head a little higher than it was before. laughter bubbled in her chest, and her cheeks grew warm as she suppressed the urge to giggle. she, too, stepped out from her hiding place, an eyebrow cocked as she clasped her hands behind her back. 

 “you’re up well past curfew, sebastian,” her voice permeated the corridor and the slytherin boy halted at once, his shoulders slightly scrunching at the sound of her voice. for a moment, he didn’t move at all, everything silent save for her footsteps drawing closer towards him. at last, he spun around on his heel as she ambled up, her lips a crescent on her face, giving her skin a glow as if it really were the moon itself. “so, what is it this time, hm?” she inquired. “sneaking into the restricted section again?”

 sebastian rolled his eyes at this, but his lips twitched upwards, as if he were suppressing his own urge to smile. “nothing that should concern you,” he replied, in which she cocked an eyebrow, glimpsing down to the prefect badge glimmering proudly on her robes. “nothing that concerns me? me, a prefect, whose job literally concerns what you are doing right now?” she tittered, and he emitted a breathy chuckle, nodding his head. she rolled her eyes, “i’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, sebastian.”

 sebastian threw his head back as he groaned, her name slipping past his lips, gazing back down at her with a more pleading look in his eyes. “oh come on, we like each other, don’t we? so can’t you just forget you ever saw me tonight and act like nothing ever happened?” he tried to reason, and she couldn’t help but feel her cheeks warm at the part where they liked each other. 

 she shuffled an inch closer towards him, her eyes narrowing in a teasing glare. “and risk getting on professor black’s bad side?” she scoffed. “yeah right. do you know how hard i’ve worked to be on his good side? or, at least, his not-so-bad side?”

 sebastian cocked his own eyebrow, “what about me?” he whined, and her teeth caught her lip. how dare he be so adorable? “so if it came down between me or professor black, you’d choose black?”

 she sighed, dramatically heaving her shoulders as she gazed up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought. “mmm,” she hummed, thinking. “well, one could definitely benefit from sucking up to the likes of professor black.”

 sebastian fought his smile as he jut his bottom lip out into a pout, playfully giving her arm a slight push. “you are horrible. absolutely horrible.” her teeth slipped through the cracks of her smile, and sebastian shifted his feet beneath him, the lump at the base of his throat bobbing, his tongue swiping between his lips as his gaze flickered down to her own. she, too, watched his tongue as it wet the soft flesh, and she sunk her teeth into the inside of her cheek. 

 “well, i suppose i can’t let you off the hook,” she sighed. “you know, because i would be jeopardizing my reputation with professor black if i did,” she added, and he rolled his eyes. “yeah, i got that,” he grumbled. she hummed again, her gaze trailing down his body, and when she looked back up to meet his eyes, she could see the beginning of something new, his pupils becoming a backdrop behind the fires of anticipation, flames searing his freckled cheeks. 

 at that moment, their minds were on the same wavelength. 

 she stepped closer until he hovered over her, eclipsing the light emanating from the candelabras. he was close, dangerously close, and when she looked up at him, their lips and noses were almost touching, their breaths mingling with one another. she could hear her heartbeat in her ears and she wondered if sebastian could hear it, just as he wondered if she could hear his. she felt like she could melt in a pool of magma at his feet just by the warmth coming from his body alone. 

 “so perhaps, a detention of my own accord will suffice?” she whispered it, as if someone was nearby, listening in, which was entirely possible at hogwarts. who knew where peeves or any of the other ghosts could be lurking? 

 the flames in sebastian’s irises raged like a wildfire now, and it only took a few missed heartbeats before sebastian’s fingers were linked together with her own, and he was drawing her in even closer than before, his lips pressing against hers for a much anticipated kiss. he leaned back as if he intended to pull away but she wouldn’t let him, leaning herself forward to catch his lips again, and he smiled, in which she returned. sebastian tugged her even closer by the hand, his opposite arm slithering around her waist, his palm pressing against the small of her back to hold her even closer. 

 she kissed him hungrily, much to his satisfaction, as he drank her in as if he hadn’t touched water in weeks. they only pulled away when they needed air, their chests heaving up and down against one another as they drew air back into their chests. they both chuckled as they held each other’s gaze, and once again, sebastian was grasping her hand, backpedaling and dragging her along with him. 

 “i think i know the perfect place where we can have.. detention,” he winked, and she giggled as he turned, picking up his pace as he led her towards the entrance to the undercroft. 

a/n; me? posting two days in a row?? have no idea how i’ve had this much motivation to write but hey, i’m writing!!!

#hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy x reader #wizarding world #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fic

[rosaindomitus]

🌾🍂

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

She's soft when she thinks people aren't looking, her shoulders slumped in a combination of exhaustion and stress and her posture curved forward ever-so-slightly, weight on her elbows and forearms. The trick, as Daniel Sullivan learned early on, is to observe without watching. She can feel it in an instant if someone is watching her--especially him for some reason--and she tenses. Shoulders stiffen, posture straightens, her mouth smooths out to a grim line and her fidgeting movements become harsher, staccato, and the urge to get out from under someone's gaze drives her to move. When he takes her in as part of the scenery, though, she seems unaware and that's when he sees her.

It's easy to spot the strands of grey wending themselves through dark hair the color of rich earth, what's more surprising are the highlights of dark gold that come out only when the sun hits it just right. The nonsense-thought of silver and gold being fitting for her braided crown occurs to him and makes him smile to himself. There are flyaways, of course, giving her an almost-halo in the sunlight. The escaped strands near her face curl down almost to the base of her throat and much of her unconscious fidgeting is brushing them and her bangs off of her glasses frames, tucking them behind her ears almost shyly.

Her glasses are worn and serviceable, much like her clothing, with thick black frames that sit slightly askew. The lenses slightly scratched without doing anything to dim the thick-lashed luminous grey eyes behind them, or the concerning purple-grey bruising underneath. It's easy to see the exhaustion lines there, at her eyes, the slight frown lines between her eyebrows, the beginning of crows feet at the edges that seem like they'd be better suited for smiling, the tension lines that run from nearly the bridge of her slightly-upturned nose to the outside of her slightly-crooked mouth. He avoids the thought that her lips look so soft and avoids even harder wondering what it would be like to kiss her, to wrap his arms around her deceptively soft-looking frame to feel the muscle underneath and--and focuses on the small details.

There is sparkle among the dull grey and black of her clothing, small scatterings of things like the slight freckling along her cheeks and forehead. Bits of silver jewelry, dangling earrings in the shape of a crescent moon, a cuff on her right ear, a necklace with an star-shaped opal on it. There are bits of color in her clothing, deep blue and violet layers hidden underneath the grey cardigan that peek out occasionally when she moves.

There are scars too. Plenty that he wouldn't able to see if she were naked in front of him--and that's another thought he shoves away for later-- that are evident in the slump of her shoulders, but also physical ones that he can see. Deep ones trailing up the back of her neck only slightly obscured by her hair and clothing, a particularly distressing one across half of her throat near her jaw. Marks that show she survived being hurt badly in the most vulnerable of places and kept going.

He wonders if-- ah and there she goes. Something has caught her attention, and it's hard for Danny to tell if it's something she saw or felt, but her idle foot-bouncing and pinky-chewing fidgeting has turned into a smooth rise from the table she was sitting at and the transformation from the idle woman enjoying the atmosphere of the park to one with a laser-guided focus is complete.

She would make a lovely portrait. He hopes she'll let him draw her one day.

🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with receiving affection from others?

Aisling will not admit how much she likes touching and being touched even to herself, but she does and the pressure of hugs are a comforting thing to her when she's the one who initiates. She'll accept hugs as well, but it will be stiff for a couple of minutes before she relaxes, for this reason she tends to act first if she feels that someone's about to go for a hug anyway. She expresses her affection for people close to her in largely the same way: trying to take care of them in some way, shape, or form. Sometimes this will take the form of small crow gifts that will brighten their day, or taking care of an errand without telling them ahead of time if they're the type of person who isn't thrown off by that sort of thing. She tries to shape herself to meet other's needs and keeps mental notes on things they like. Danny and Ortega get cuddle rights because they need touch or else they'll explode apparently, but she'd do handholding or something similar for Angie, Chen, or Mortum if they needed it/were comfortable with it. Strangers get a listening ear, maybe a coffee or a snack if they seem like they need it, maybe a little mood pick-me-up if they need that to help them get through the day. I think receiving affection is difficult for her and leaves her feeling like she's on the back foot of the exchange (even though she knows relationships aren't transactional and would sooner cut her own throat then act as if something she did for someone made them owe her something) It's going to be a process getting her to accept basic affectionate actions without second-guessing it somewhere.

#aisling brown #sidestep #fhr #thank you for the ask

[besaea]

LOOKING BACK moon saea reflecting on practice and the performance

     this time when she’s pulled away from everyone, she’s not as surprised as she was last time. her recovery is quick and she practically skips into the room, because she’s feeling pretty good about the performance that she had just done. she’s not even thinking about rankings right now, if only because she wants to focus on salute and how nice it had been to work with people who meshed so well together.

     when asked about her thoughts on their performance this time, saea’s eyes brighten and curve into her signature crescents, her whisker dimples showing. “i think we did good, or i hope we did. it’s a concept i haven’t really had a chance to try out and, despite my team being all boys, i also really enjoyed the lyrics. ladies all across the world~” she’s amused but she hopes it comes across as sincere as she means it. 

     she’s asked how she felt about ranking second and getting center position for my turn and her eyes widen just slightly. “i really didn’t expect it! i thought i did well, but not well enough to get center since i was told i needed to work on my singing more? it really was an honour and it’s a memory i’ll treasure forever,” she adds, smiling. 

     it really will be. she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget being announced as center and then practicing the choreography with everyone there. it had been nervewracking at first, but at least dance was something she had confidence in herself in. even if she somehow fails and ends up getting eliminated or something, she thinks that she’ll keep the video of my turn on her phone to remind her that she had tried something and she had had fun even if it hadn’t worked out in the end. 

      “do i feel pressured about my rank?” she repeats the question, wanting to make sure she had heard correctly. she nods slowly and then ends up shrugging. while at first she had been feeling like she needed to work extra hard to make sure she didn’t disappoint people, she had felt that she was doing what she could to be the best version of herself that she could be on stage. and she assumes this question comes from the number of people who had ranked high originally, only to fall because of too much pressure. she doesn’t really think she’s felt extra pressure, if only maybe because her expectations of herself had already been so high. 

     “maybe a little? i feel like i need to work hard to maintain it, but i also think that if i work harder than i have, i’ll be acting like a robot. rest is as important as practice is, and i think we all need to find that balance to be able to do well. i hope i didn’t disappoint though!”

#( solo. ) #BE:NGS1P3 #( wc _ 479 )

[upismediacenter]

LITERARY: La Réponse de Lune (Part I)

Ri’s eyes shine with the gentle glimmer of the Moon—a pact to honor the grace of his muse. Not the sun that burns delusions into his vision nor the comets that he could never will himself to catch up to, and never the stars that sew illusions into their tapestries. Ri’s Moon is the one light in his heavens. But Ri’s is something that he, on still cloudless nights, could only wish his muse to be.

What his muse is, nevertheless, enchants him and tugs him in helpless swirl, far past the confines of the firmament of his grounded world. When the wind falls lifeless and his spirits follow, Her silver smile quells all worry and leads him to pastures green. Tender, he wallows in Her kindness; precious, he crowns Her import. These and countless constellations of honeyed latria does he lay upon the altar of her winsome name.

Night after night, Ri marvels at the Moon’s many faces of delight and gaiety, charity and regality, of the myriad manner of joy and warmth and majesty aglow in each of Her lighted meridians. What fascinates him more still is what may lie on the face She keeps in darkness. “If only She could spare me but a sliver of Her light,” he wishes, “that I may fathom the breadth of Her miracles, the depth of Her mysteries—”

Having watched those around him toil just for a moment in the sun, Ri cherishes the night, longs for the gentle light of his muse. Tantalized by the why’s and how’s of her grace and the spectrum of the untold possibilities behind her face, he quarries for clues to the nature of her radiance.

As rivers reach for the sea.

The sea that bears testimony to his prayers and on this night bears an answer.

The Moon a wrinkled picture on the ripples, an invitation comes tendered, scribbled in light bent by the waves: “Come Ri, your gift awaits.”

He steps into the surf in a trance; his footfalls turn splashes and his stride falls bogged to a wade, slowing yet unceasing. With the water at his lips he draws his lungs a final fill before vanishing into the moonlit sea. He trudges on the sand floor as his chest thumps to the waltz of ageless galaxies, each step spanning the space between stars; their pauses grow longer as if ever less likely to find their close.

Gasp

A swell of relief and a rush of air charges into Ri’s body as his head breaks the surface. Wiping the water off his face, he makes onward the sloping beach and falls down with a plop—heaving, disheveled, and dry. He sits up to find the night sky washing over his feet, constellations drifting in the waves. Not a single drop has soaked his clothes or remains to wet his skin, not even as the inky tide recedes past his toes. With eyes wide and hung jaw, he stands and surveys the cosmos around him. Blooming nebulae splash the abyss with rainbow stardust and a shower of hurtling asteroids heralds a Voice that rings through the night.

“Look around you to see within you, with the moon as your witness.”

In front of Ri, shadows coalesce into a solid globe the span of his hand, bobbing on the ether. A slim curve streaks the edge of it, a shining silver crescent. Ri scans for an acquainted sight to try and place himself amidst the limitless night and spies a familiar blue-green orb sweeping around a sun. The sun.

He jogs toward the beaming ball, feeling his steps dent the drenched star-sand and patter on pitch-dark puddles. Keeping his head down, he refrains from catching even a glimpse of the fever-made-light, lest his eyes be scarred with sore afterglows—delusions burned into his sight one too many times. Gauging the distance left by the vigor of the heat’s dance on his cheeks, Ri halts his advance when the pirouette of the fires threatens to twist off his skin.

He opens his eyes in hurried spells and finds himself at gates aflare, perhaps even past it for he sees nothing but light too where the night used to be. Desperate to find his bearing, he strains his eyelids apart and bares himself to the assault of fire. Ri could have never foretold, for he never wished for a re-encounter, that he would once again burn his pupils and his thoughts with the blaze of indignity.

Once he dared behold the sun to pay her earnest tribute only to be scalded in rebuke. “You are not fit to gaze upon me.” Ri’s first oblation was answered with curses to his worth and a blight to his vision, a warning to never set his lowly regard where unwelcome. Glowing even at the close of his eyes, it sneers at the shortfalls rooted within himself. His spirit has been torched since and the sun readies to rekindle the inferno.

Blots of greens, blues, and reds barrage Ri’s sight as he braves through the flames, trekking a path back into the night. The heat swells harsher still as he passes through the heart of the sun. At the center sits a globe not much larger than the miniature moon that Ri has had floating by his side. Its glow outshines the sun a hundredfold. Ri steels his irises, paying no heed to the ashen fate that certainly awaits them and him, and glares back at the core.

“My faults are mine and so is my gaze! I need not the light of your fire for I am my own; I am free!”

The sun blinks. It flickers. It bursts in a flash, a flower blossoming under the stars. Ri steps out into the cool sand of the night and falls down with a plop—heaving, disheveled, and unscathed.

His little moon also made it without so much as a char-mark, the crescent now a beaming quarter. The same Voice preceded by the volley of asteroids rang once again throughout the night:

“You have tread bravely. Save your rest for the next.”

— ☀ —

Read Part II here: https://at.tumblr.com/upismediacenter/literary-la-r%C3%A9ponse-de-lune-part-ii/1555dnp1o5w7

#MC2023 #MabaitCaba? #literary #english #optimist prime

[lonely-letters-from-xeria]

A Letter of Danger

Well, THAT was terrifying.

Holy onion chips and cheese sticks. How are any of us alive? Did you see what just happened?

Oh. Duh, of course not. I’m writing in a journal for… our future selves? To publish when we get home? I’m not sure. Whatever— I’m gonna tell you what happened, because oh mother of chaos are we lucky to be okay—

————————————————————

It happens just after they leave the cottage. 

Maybe it’s karma for trespassing, maybe it’s fate they crossed paths, or maybe it’s luck that they haven’t run into something like this sooner.

Fyrus skips ahead, scampering over giant tree roots and moss-coated rocks. A week(?) in this place and his enthusiasm has yet to fail (or at least, that’s what he tells the others), a burning bright optimism that refuses to be extinguished.

Glenn and Avery are right behind him, the former peering into every bush and tree and the latter sticking close behind Fyrus to catch him if his leg catches on something.

“—so there I was,” Avery recounts, “staring down my old teammate across the field. All I can think of is the rampant betrayal I feel mirrored on her face.”

Sophia scoffs, shaking dirt from her jeans. “Betrayal? Someone’s been taking theatre class.”

Avery puffs out her chest with a grin. “I have, glad you noticed.”

Sophia rolls her eyes, but Fyrus spots a faint smile ghost across her face. Ever since deciding they would head to the coast, she’s been looking a bit happier, though she still kept her distance— physically and emotionally— from them.

But the one with the most distance is Adrien, lagging at the back of the group. Fyrus lets Glenn, Avery, and Sophia pass him, and falls into step with Adrien. 

The umbrella-wielding teen startles from where he’d been staring unseeing at the ground and blinks at Fyrus.

Fyrus beams at him. “Hey! Mind if I hang out here for a bit?”

Adrien slowly shakes his head. His steps are soft, quiet as a shadow against the forest trail.

“So, you excited to see the coast?” Fyrus continues. “On one hand, I am, because I bet it looks amazing since the sky here is more of a cyan colour so the water colour must be breathtaking, but on the other hand, I can swim but I don’t like it. What about you? Excited or not really?”

Adrien shakes his head again. Fyrus nods. “Yeah, same. I mean, it’s exciting to get a chance of scenery— the forest is really pretty and all, but the noises are super spooky, especially at night. It always feels like we’re three seconds from some big wild animal storming out of the woods towards—“

There’s a loud crack in the bushes behind them.

Fyrus and Adrien stop and look at each other before slowly turning around.

A small bird flutters out of the bushes, curving sharply on four wings to weave through the branches and out off the canopy into the sky above.

Fyrus sighs in relief. “Oh my gosh, I thought I just jinxed us—“

The wind shifts, the forest quiets, and suddenly two sharp beastly eyes are staring at them from the undergrowth.

It’s vaguely wolf-like without a fluffy tail, fur ashen grey and deep green, with ridges of multicoloured crystals poking out of its back. Its claws are thick black nails shaped like crescent moons. When it snarls, Fyrus can see two rows of sharp teeth in its snout. 

Honestly, Fyrus isn’t paying too much attention to details other than what could murder him. The creature is built like a car, and that’s all his brain really needs to process. 

What is it adults say to do in this situation? Make yourself look big and scary, yell, throw rocks, don’t look them in the eyes or turn your back to run.

He’s pretty sure that doesn’t apply to big fantasy-like wolves, but hey, worth a shot. He takes his spare leg out of his bag with shaky hands, heart hammering, and waves it above his head to look scarier. Adrien does the same with his umbrella.

The “wolf” looks puzzled for a moment, as if it had been expecting them to just run and doesn’t quite know what to do now. That’s good; Fyrus doesn’t quite know what to do now either.

Can weird giant fantasy wolves smell fear? Fyrus can; it smells like sweat and salty tears of terror prickling the corners of his eyes. All his enthusiasm has whooshed out of him in one quick moment as if he’d been doused with an icy bucket of watery reality.

It’s still not moving. Neither is he, except to continue waving his leg and pretending to be a much bigger threat.

Maybe the beast would have actually turned and left them alone if this display had continued, but Sophia turns in this moment to see where Fyrus and Adrien are, sees the monster, and screams.

An understandable reaction, really.

Whatever spell the puzzled “wolf” had been under breaks, and it growls, stepping forward, no longer deterred by the odd human teens waving strange objects in the air. With no other options, the two turn their backs on it and run, joined by the other three.

The forest whips by them as the beast bounds through the shrubbery behind them, snarling with a snout frothing with saliva. Fyrus throws his bodyweight over logs and rocks, thankful he’s wearing the leg that isn’t attached by suction today; it surely would have slid off from the sweat as he races at full speed through the woods.

There’s a loud thud ahead as Sophia’s suddenly sent sprawling by a hidden root. She catches herself with barely a scratch but struggles to get herself free from the roots she’s managed to wedge her foot under. The beast howls, eyes training on her.

It bounds past Fyrus and Adrien and pounces at Sophia.

At once Avery stops and turns on her heel, grabbing her baseball bat as she learns into the swing. Her bat slams hard into the beast’s snout and it stumbles back, rubbing its wounded snout. Avery gestures for the others to keep going as she lifts Sophia free and pulls her back into the lung-heaving sprint for their lives.

“UP THERE!” 

Glenn points to a hollow in a grand wide tree up ahead, the hole just out of range of the wolf. He makes it there first and turns with his back to the bark, linking his hands together as a footstool. Avery shoves Sophia forward and Glenn boosts her up the tree to the hollow. Adrien is boosted up next and turns, lowering his umbrella to help Fyrus up.

Fyrus grabs the smooth wooden handle, planting one foot in Glenn’s hand and using it to scramble up, dragging himself up and into the nook. He turns and helps Adrien lift Avery up, followed finally by Glenn.

The beast slams into the tree. 

The five teens huddle together at the back. Avery’s grip is iron on her bat, waiting, while Sophia sits curled, hyperventilating. Adrien rests a hand gently on her back and draws a circle with his palm. Glenn pulls Fyrus behind him.

The sound of Claws scrambling against wood echoes from below, but the beast doesn’t rear its ugly snout into the hollow.

It can’t reach them.

————————————————————

Can you BELIEVE IT? Oh I was terrified the whole time. I think all of us were, which is like, of course, we’re high schoolers, we could have died, holy mackerel—

We waited in the hollow for a while, and the beast left, and when it was safe to go, we helped each other down. I think everyone’s excited to make it to the coast after that.

Holy swiss cheese and cheddar slices.

 - Fyrus

#Lonely Letters from Xeria #LLfX #ask characters #Writing #Writing Project #Tumblr Project #Fantasy #fantasy project #heroes

[nelapanela94]

When the stars fall asleep masterlist⭐Part 1 - The Jar of Stars guide⭐< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >

3. More stardust in my life.

The wood screeched against the floor, flooding the corridor with that ear-splitting noise, and you earned sullen glares. A vein popped out on your flushed, glossy neck and temple as you hauled your baggage to your designated room. More than a valise, it was an oaken chest, braced with metal straps at the corners, and the front covered in chip-carved stars and a crescent moon.

Panting, you made a strategic pause to sweep away the drops of sweat off your forehead in the least lady-like manner. Just a couple more stops, and you’d make it to half the way.   

You hunched forward, palms resting on your knees.

The door was ajar when you finally reached your dorm. For a second, or less, the girls gazed indifferently at their new roommate, then resumed their activities and tittle-tattles.

You headed straight to the beds near the rear window, which, guessing by their bare mattresses, didn't seem to have an owner yet.

"I get the top one." A girl shouted from the door, startling you, and rushed towards the bunk bed, tossing up her luggage, a leather sack, and swarmed up the ladder.

“Uh?” Bewilderment dabbed your face; you blinked several times, then shrugged. "Okay," you uttered for yourself. The bottom one sounded nice.

You slipped the key chain over your head, kneeled before your ostentatious container, and inserted the key in the padlock. It clicked open, and you flipped the detachable lock off with a swift move of your wrist.

"I'm Eva."

You jolted and looked up, meeting a pair of round chocolate brown eyes, mouth curved into a wide smile. "Y/N." You smiled back. You could only see her face peeking over and her hands gripped at the edge of the bed.

"I didn't mean to startle you." She scratched her head, casting an apologetic smile. "I grew sharing a room with my older sister. I always wanted the top bed."

You shook the head. "I don't mind."

The hefty lid unhinged open with a soft shrill that indicated an urgent oil for the brackets, and you began to unpack on your bed.

The design of the barracks was incredibly plain. The room had simple interiors, with little more than two rows of bunk beds and five-foot-wide closets taking their pride of the place. At least, during the morning, it basked in the sunlight that slanted through the window and offered a nice view to the orchard behind the building.

Four out of the twenty slots were empty.

"I hope the little princess doesn't feel uneasy about sharing a room." You heard from behind and turned around, frowning, meeting a ginger-haired girl with green eyes and freckles, so many freckles daubing all her face. Her hands were resting on her hips. Her gaze coated with disdain.

"Leave her alone, Claire," Eva growled.

Claire folded her arms ever her chest, rolling her eyes. "Great, you found someone to stand up for you." She left her belongings on her bed and walked away, nostrils flaring up, fists hurled down and clenched by her sides.

"Her bark is worse than her bite." The brunette sighed. "We graduated together, North division. Though this is the last place I thought I'd see her. She graduated in the top ten, I bet she’d join the MP."

"Don't worry, I'm used to those things." You spun around and continued folding t-shirts and pants. "South division."

Her eyes bore on your back as you slid the hangers in the gowns, tugging at the sleeves and stacking them on your bed. You granted her time to shoot.

"Hey, uh… why…uh" You gazed up, rising a brow. Eva was scratching her temple and averted her eyes when they stumbled on yours.

“It’s alright, Eva” A chortle seeped out of your lips. "You want to know why I join the Military, don't you?"

"No…well, maybe." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Yes."

You chuckled and lifted a shoulder in half shrug. "I didn't want to live unhappily ever after trapped in an arranged marriage."

"Is that so?"

You nodded. “I’m not going to raise the children of some asshole who can’t make me come.”

“Y/N!” Eva shrieked, her cheeks sizzling pink. All heads turned to you.

You turned your face away, buffering with your arm her attack. You bent and grabbed the cushion and tossed it back to its owner’s bed. A touch of amusement burgeoned at the corners of your lips.

Eva sat down, her legs dangling over the edge of the hard mattress and patted a spot next to her. You climbed up and took a seat, turning to her. She put her hands on your shoulders and leaned in.

"Y/N, I want to be like you when I grow up."

You stared at her, shooting a brow heavenward before bursting into laughter. She laughed too and both flumped back onto the bed, wincing and hissing. Then rubbed your backs. Those mattresses were made of rock.

Something seized your sense of smell. “What do you have in your bag?”

“Oh!” Eva sat up and rummaged into her belongings, pulling out a jute bag. “Cookies, grandma packed them before I took my leave. She owns a bakery in Utopia.” You sat too, and she untied the lace of the container. “Not to brag, but grandma bakes the best cookies.”

“I must check if you’re telling the truth.”

You grabbed one and took a closer look at it. Not too flat, not too thick. Next second, your teeth clamped on it, crumbs fell on your lap, and you brushed them off, making sure they found their way to the floor and not on Eva’s bed. She was indisputably right. The perfect in between of crispiness and chewiness; sweet, but not cloying. They must’ve been sprinkled with coderoin, because you had found a new drug. If you ever happen to visit Utopia, Eva’s grandma’s bakery had to be a mandatory stop in your itinerary.

“Please, tell me you learned to make these.” You had another big bite.

“I worked with her in the summers.”

“Marry me,” you blurted, and hooked your arms around her, blowing raspberries in her hair.

When all the sugar rushed to your head, you descended the ladder.

“I forgot to ask you, what is that jar?” Your eyes drifted in the direction of her svelte finger pointing at the corner of your desk.

“Oh, this?” You grabbed it and unscrewed the lid, tilting it to the side so she could take a glimpse inside. “It’s a jar of stars. Each one each one represents a precious moment in my life. I cut out a star-shape of paper and scrawl on it anything that’d make a good memory.”

“weird.” She crinkled her nose.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Life was always better with friends. They’re like stars that collide with us and make more stardust. Friendship will always shing bright, in times of laughter and in times of sorrow.

*

Next morning, the new cadets gathered in the stables to choose their new loyal companions.

Humans don't choose horses; horses choose their human. That's what Max told you when you were kids, and the information was reliable; he used to play polo at the club. He's always been a horse expert.

You scrunched up your face when you felt a lick on your cheek. And it wasn't sexy.

“Hey.” You brushed its neck with your hand to stop the attack, rubbing off your face. You looked at him closely and smiled. He was the perfect horse for the girl who counted things. The Knabstrupper breed had an unusual range of coat coloration. He was white with dramatic brown spots swarming over him, like a dalmatian.

“You want me as your human?”

He replied with another lick.

“Carrot cake. That’s your name.” You drew out the carrot from your jacket and fed it to him. You had it with you in case your charm didn't attract any horse; a little help wouldn’t hurt anyone.

You combed his mane and tail and brushed the rest of his body. It was a good way to bond and built trust before mounting him. Then you tethered Carrot Cake to a wooden pillar and went in search of a saddle.

Before lifting the saddle on, you position the blanket on the horses back, making sure it was even on both sides, and rubbed off the wrinkles on the fabric.

You looked out into the main courtyard, and for a second, your eyes raveled with his. He was standing with his arms crossed, talking to Miche and Erwin under the shade of a tree. You took a deep breath and concentrated on your task. However, your conscience betrayed you, and your eyes went out in quest of him.

Levi was… well, something in his face was so intense and alluring. The first thing that struck you was his gaze. Those piercing steel gray eyes in which you would certainly be able to see constellations. Then his lips. Juicy. To kiss and to be kissed, and...

He hunted you staring at him.

“Oi!” Your eyes shot open wide as if they’d pop out and fall onto the horse shit. He was coming your way and your legs began to quiver.

“Didn’t they teach you how to saddle a horse?” He asked brusquely and pushed you aside. You could hear your heart drumming loud and clear.

Yes, they did.

“Probably skipped that lesson.” You managed to say as you reached for the hanging girth belt beneath Carrot Cake.

“Tch.”

And at that moment, as he grabbed the strap, his hand brushed yours and the ground quaked, though no one else was disturbed by the sudden natural disaster.

“I’ll check the other side,” you maffled and steered around your new best buddy to hide your scorching red blush from the ravenette.

“Better learn unless you want to become titan’s shit in your first expedition.” He spouted surlier that he expected as he finished fastening the cinch. Once done, he patted your stallion’s neck.

“I thought titans didn’t poo,” you jeered, earning another tch as he stalked off.

When the stars fall asleep masterlist⭐Part 1 - The Jar of Stars guide⭐< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #Levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi attack on titan #snk levi #levi aot #nela writes #when the stars fall asleep