#and its not exactly blushing described but more the beauty of red lips that are the most beautiful when they are laughing

[werspinna]

The baker stirs awake, eyes slowly opening. He feels someone in his arms, head turning to his guest. His eyes widened seeing the alchemist, a blush forming on his face. He replays the night in his head as a hand covers his red face. NOt helped by the look on Wolf's face as a bashful chuckle escapes his lips. "Am I blushing? I'm blushing aren't I?"

PROMPTS FOR THE MORNING AFTER !

Back in he convent the morning was never quiet- there were the hasty noise of steps on the corridor from the nun running into the chapel for the morningprayer, there were the busy clattering of pots and dishes from the kitchen when the breakfast was prepared, there were the loud noises of the children who- beside the fact that everyone in the convent was orderd to be silent- were herded like a flock of chattering geese to the refectory for a quick breakfast so they could go to their first lessons as soon as the nuns had finsihed their prayers. Here however the morning was almost quiet, there was Chris breathing changing its quiet tact when he stirred awake and the distant echo of vehicles on the streets that were as tiered as their drivers, yet at this hour of the morining were the light was still grey, almost white, it was so strangely quiet that it had woken Wolf who was so used to the loudness of the convent in the morning that she was suddenly alarmed and alerted, up. Chris reaction and words made her laugh in all good humor and the young woman propped herself up on one elbow. The pale light falling into the room drew soft shadows on the amused smile on her face. Still laughing she took the man bigger hand in her scarred ones, pulled it gently from his face and kissed his knuckles, humming so lightly her breath stroked soft like a veil over his skin: "...Wol mich der stunde, daz ich ihn erkande, diu mir den lîp und den muot hât betwungen. Sît deich die sinne sô gar an ihn wande, der er mich hât mit eein güete verdrungen. Daz ich gescheiden von ihn niht enkan, daz hât ihn schœne und ihn güete gemachet, und ihn rôter munt, der sô lieplîchen lachet." The young woman grey eyes flicked up to Chris, squinting in a smile that was only a little wolfish, only a little impish, only a little sly as she chirped as innocently as she was definitive not: "As the bard sung so nicely- no need to be afraid of blushing red when this is when people are the most beautiful. I for one -" She breathed another kiss on the mans knuckles, this time however looking directly at him and with a knowing smile curling around the scarred corner of her mouth. Gently, softly, tenderly she lead his hand to herself, to her neck, to her bare shoulder, down to one of her breasts: "-am so very nicely bewitched by that pretty colour on your face, not gonna lie, not lying at all. You sure are the most beautiful when you are blushing."

This was the exact moment when the dimensional-traveling-watch that Wolf had put on the dresser beside Chris bed started to beep and blink like an angry firefly and for a second, just a second there was a irritated scowl crumbling Wolfs poxscarred face into a annoyed grimace. Then the second ended, the mask found its way back to her face, and a amused little laughed escaped the young womans mouth as she fell back on her back in the bed, stretching her arms up as if she was a sleepy cat in the sunlight. She reached up, stroking a finger over the mans cheek gently: "Ah, the Multiverse wants me back, it seems. No nice pause for me, no, never a nice pause for me, not at all. It is not the nice way, not at all, not nice really, but would it be okay if you eat your breakfast without me, Muuske?" [ @bewitchingbaker ]

[hrefna-the-raven]

The hunt

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x reader

Summary: you were sent to retrieve a precious item, but so was the most notorious bounty hunter in the Wasteland...

(this happens before Cooper ended up in that grave)

Words: 1143

Warnings: swearing

Notes: I had a female reader in mind while reading this but it turned out to be quite neutral so I guess it could be read a gender-neutral as well 😊

Chapter 1 - The plan

The blistering sun burned down on the dusty South Californian wasteland as he entered the ruins of a long deserted town. Tugging his cowboy hat lower to shield his eyes from the blinding sunshine, he instinctively reached for his revolver, drawing it from its holster as he sauntered towards you.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?", he asked with a grin, aiming his gun at you.

You had spotted him the moment he entered the ruins, but hiding was never your style. Your curiosity got the better of you, eager to finally meet the ghoulish bounty hunter whose reputation preceded him. Lifting your gaze from his gun to meet his eyes, you rose to your feet, a mischievous smirk painted across your lips.

"A beautiful face, a wicked sense of humour that provides for good company and", picked up the shotgun propped against the adjacent wall, "a loaded gun if you decide on becoming a problem."

He raised an eyebrow, eyeing the shotgun before returning your smirk.

"Now, ain't that a welcome you could take as a compliment and a warning. Well, you can rest easy, darlin’. I ain't lookin’ to turn this into a bloodbath."

"Neither do I. Would be a shame to rid this world of the legendary Cooper Howard.", you winked at him as you put your gun back.

The ghoul chuckled, holstered his revolver, and tipped his hat while taking a step closer to you.

"Now ain't you a charmer? And one who's done their homework as well."

"Oh when a pre-war celebrity as dashing as you becomes the most renowned bounty hunter of this unforgiving wasteland, one simply must take a closer look."

"Don't go makin' an ol' ghoul blush with your pretty words", he teased.

"As if one could see the blush on that red skin of yours", you chuckled, "so what brings the most feared bounty hunter to this lost place?"

You were intrigued by this man out of time. He lived in the pre-war era, a world that was so different from the one you were born into, wandering around for two decades while he was forced to watch the world crumble and slowly rebuild itself, for better or worse. It begged the question what all this would do to a human's sanity and yet he didn't strike you as mad, quite on the contrary, he possessed something that you'd describe as old world charm paired in a deadly combination with one of the sharpest minds. His expression took on a slightly more serious edge, his gaze fixing to the edge of the ruins.

"Well, I’ve been tracking a caravan, you see. They’re supposed to be passing through these parts sometime soon. I’m looking for a specific item they’re carrying and since this ain't exactly a common route, I'd bet my wrinkly ass you're here for the exact same reason."

"What a coincidence", you laughed, taking out your flask, unscrewing the lid, "that item wouldn't happen to be a crate full of well preserved bottles of the finest pre-war whiskey?"

You took a sip and tapped the space beside you on the wall, gesturing for him to join you before extending the flask towards him. He nodded appreciatively as he accepted it. You were clearly a hunter just like him but your kindness caught him off guard, it was a rare occurrence in the harsh reality of the Wasteland, especially among gunslingers. To him you seemed like a rare but quite intriguing specimen, beauty and charm in a passionate tango with deadly cunning, a single dionaea muscipula thriving in the desert and he was the fly irresistibly drawn to it. This was exactly why he usually kept his distance from others but around you his resolve seemed to crumble, enchanted by the brightness and beauty of your soul.

"Quite the coincidence indeed", the Ghoul murmured, "I wonder how you by this information? If I'd had to guess I'd say that prick Dom Pedro hired one too many for this job."

"Given my additional instructions to kill a certain ghoul should he happen to cross my path, I'd say you're spot on. So what shall we do about this?", you asked, turning towards him, away from the gun as you kept your hands on your lap.

You pokered high on this one, knowing damn well it was a huge risk to admit your instructions to eliminate him while having no intent to do so, it made you vulnerable in front of the Wasteland's most fearsome bounty hunter.

Cooper lit a cigarette, a faint glow casting an eerie glow on his ghoulish face as he puffed on it, studying you with a combination of intrigue and admiration. You had made no move to actually fulfill that part of your contract, another thing that intrigued him about you, another contrast to every other bloodthirsty fucker he met in fucked up ruined world and maybe this was exactly what he needed.

"Well now, ain't that a question for the ages. The way I see it, we got three choices here. First, we could settle this like every other idiot in the trade and see who's left standin'. Second, we could team up and increase our chances of snatchin' that shipment, shared profit of course. Or third...", he took a long drag on his cigarette before throwing it to the ground.

"We get the item, return to dear old Dom and fuck him up gloriously", you offered with a mischievous grin.

Cooper's smile widened as he nodded in agreement. He'd risk a lot but not shooting you straight away but there was this feeling, buried deep down within him that urged him to trust you, a faint notion of the same tingling he had felt so long ago, back when his skin was still smooth and life was less complicated.

"Now you're talkin' my language. Ain't nothin' more exciting than a well-executed betrayal. Besides ol' Dom deserves what's comin' for him. So what do you say? You in?", he asked, extending his hand towards you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Hell yeah", you chuckled and shook his hand, "pleasure doin' business with you, Howard."

The way his name fell from your lips stirred something within him. For over two decades, nobody had called him by his real name, everywhere he went he always simply the ghoul, the notorious mercenary who drifted from place to place, leaving chaos and bloodshed in his wake. However you were the very first person in a long time who seemed to see something different in him and the fearless yet teasing way you talked to him had this undeniable hint of respect, dancing around the borders of genuine affection. He sighed and got up as the sounds of chatters in the distance rang to his ears.

“Our target's approaching, let's get goin'.”

Chapter 2 - The bounty

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story 😊

[stardust-swan]

can you go more in depth on beauty secrets by geishas? i’ve always found them so interesting.

Geisha are very secretive about their inner lives, so it's hard to know for sure things like exactly what they would have done during their skincare routine or what kind of perfume they used, but we do know about their makeup, hair, and clothing. A lot of this information comes from the most successful geiko of Kyoto, Mineko Iwasaki's memoir Geisha, A Life (also known as Geisha of Gion), which was controversial among her peers as she revealed a lot of behind the scenes info on what life as a geisha is like. It's a very interesting read if you're interested in the inner lives of geisha. It can be downloaded on Libgen.

The Geisha Ideal

Mineko Iwasaki described how a geisha is meant to look:

She has the classic looks of a Heian princess, as though she might have stepped out of an eleventh-century scroll painting. Her face is a perfect oval. Her skin is white and flawless, her hair black as a raven’s wing. Her brows are half moons, her mouth a delicate rosebud. Her neck is long and sensuous, her figure gently rounded.

Makeup

Geisha wear highly stylised makeup derived from the kabuki tradition.

Foundation: Bintsuke oil paste is applied to the face, neck, and upper back as a base.

White Makeup: White face powder, made of rice powder, is mixed with water to form a paste. The face, neck, and upper chest are painted. Three stripes on the back of the neck are left unpainted in order to emphasize its slenderness, as in Japan the nape of the neck is considered beautiful. If wearing ordinary kimonos instead of formal outfit, only two lines will be left unpainted.

Eyebrows and eyes: As their eyebrows have been covered up by the white makeup, they are redrawn in pencil or charcoal. Black eyeliner is worn on the top lash line. Maiko (trainee geisha) use distinctive red eye makeup, whereas as geisha wear black eye makeup or may use subtle red makeup at the start of their brows. A crescent moon eyebrow shape is preferred.

Blush: Maiko wear pink blush on their cheeks, whereas geishas faces are completely white.

Lips: Maiko only paint one of their lips, while geisha paint both lips. They use a bold red lipstick which is derived from the red safflower, mixing it with water (and some also add sugar). They use a brush to paint a shape a bit smaller than their natural lip shape, as small lips are considered delicate. Tatcha has a lipstick called Kyoto Red which is in the same shade of red that geishas use.

Older geisha typically only wear a full face of makeup for performances and special occasions.

In the past, geisha would paint their teeth black, but today it is very uncommon, although some Kyoto geisha still practice it.

Hair

There are different hairstyles for different stages of a geisha's career.

Junior maiko wear the wareshinobu (split peach) style.

Senior maiko wear the ofuku style

Yakko is worn for formal events

Katsuyama is worn for one month before and one month after the Gion Festival in July

The sakko is worn in the final month of a maiko's training. On their very last day as a maiko, the tie holding their topknot is ritually cut off.

After becoming geisha, they wear the shimada hairstyle, an elaborate high chignon.

Mineko Iwasaki's description of the wareshinobu style:

The hair is swept up and sculpted into a mass on the top of the head that is secured by red silk bands (kanoko) front and back and decorated with kanzashi, the stick pin ornaments so distinctive of the karyukai look. It is said that this simple, elegant style showcases the curve of the young girl’s neck and the freshness of her features to their best advantage.

To preserve their elaborate hairstyles, geisha would sleep on a rectangular lacquered wooden pillow topped with a narrow cushion. If a girl found it difficult to sleep on these pillows, the maids would sprinkle rice bran around the pillow, so that if the girl removed the pillow, bits of bran would stick to the pomade in her hair, forcing her to have to go to the hairdressers again. Geisha would visit the hairdressers every five days.

These days geisha just wear wigs, which as well as being more convenient, also prevent bald spots from forming, a common problem geisha in the past dealt with due to constant stress on the roots of their hair. Maiko are still required to use their real hair.

Geisha also got their faces shaved when they went to the hairdresser.

As well as wearing their hair in elaborate styles, geisha also decorate them with ornaments. This description is of the first set of hair ornaments Mineko Iwasaki wore:

I wore two hairpins tipped with silk plum blossoms (because it was February) on the sides of the back of the bun, a pair of silver flutters (bira) on the sides in front, an orange blossom pin (tachibana) on top, and a long pin tipped with balls of red coral (akadama) and jade, inserted horizontally through the base.

Maiko wear colourful hair ornaments with flower motifs that change every month.

Full-fledged geisha don't wear as many hair ornaments, just a simple comb and hairpins, and their hairpins aren't as elaborate as the ones worn by maikos.

The hair ornaments serve purposes other than just decoration. The pointed ends of the pins are used to protect geisha from attacks, and the coral ornaments worn in colder months are used to test whether sake has been poisoned as coral breaks in the presence of poison.

Fashion

Maiko wear more elaborate outfits than geisha do in order to compensate for their lack of expertise and knowledge. Mineko Iwasaki described one of her maiko outfits this way:

My kimono was made out of figured satin in variegated turquoise. The heavy hem of the train was dyed in shades of burnt orange, against which floated a drift of pine needles, maple leaves, cherry blossoms and chrysanthemum petals. My obi was made of black damask decorated with swallowtail butterflies. I wore a matching obi clasp of a swallowtail butterfly fashioned out of silver.

I carried the traditional handbag called a kago, which has a basketweave base topped by a drawstring pouch of colorful tie dyed silk, shibori, which is made by tying silk into a myriad of minute knots with thread before it is dyed. The result is a stunning dappled effect. Kyoto is famous for this technique. It is the one that was practiced by my mother.

The shibori of my handbag was pale peach and sported a design of cabbage butterflies. It held my dancing fan (decorated with the three red diamonds of the Konoe family [close advisers to the emperor] painted on a gold background), a red-and-white hand towel decorated in a matching pattern, a boxwood comb, and various other accessories. All of these were encased in covers made from the same silk as the bag, and all of them were monogrammed.

Maiko wear a collar called eri, which is hand-sewn onto the nagajuban (a robe worn under the kimono) for each wearing. These red collars tell a story in and of themselves. They are made from silk that has been finely embroidered with white, silver, and gold thread. The younger one is the less dense the embroidery and the more visible the red of the silk. As one matures, the appliqué becomes heavier until little red (a symbol of childhood) can be seen. The progression continues until the day one “turns one’s collar” from maiko to geiko and begins to wear a white collar instead of a red one.

Under their clothes, geisha wear two rectangular undergarments made of cotton, one wrapped tight around the chest and the other wrapped tight around the hips. This helps flattens and smoothes the lines of the kimono. Next comes a long cotton hip wrap, like a half-slip, then a pair of long bloomers to preserve modesty should the front fold of the kimono open.

Next comes the hadajuban, a loose blouselike garment that follows the lines of the kimono. A maiko’s hadajuban has a red collar. Over this, a full length under robe is worn called a nagajuban. Mineko Iwasaki described hers as being "made from tie-died silk figured with a fan-shaped pattern and embroidered with an assortment of flowers."

After their undergarments are on, the kimono and obi (sash) are put on. Their kimono and obi have different designs for each season. For example, in summer, a kimono with hydrangeas might be worn and in Autumn a kimono with maple leaves might be worn. Kimonos for the winter months are made from thicker silk than kimonos for the warm months.

Geisha wear kimonos with more subdued colours and shorter obis than maiko do. A maiko's long obi will sometimes have the crest of the okiya she lives in on it. The clothes worn by geisha and maiko alike are made of expensive silk and are tailor made.

Geisha aren't dressed by themselves, but rather they have professional dressers who dress them every day. The dressers must ensure perfection, and they are the ones who bear the blame if anything is missing, out of place, or seasonally inappropriate.

Mineko describes a maiko's shoes as thus:

Kimono are always worn with either wooden or leather sandals. Okobo, 6-inch-high clog-like wooden sandals, are a distinctive part of a maiko’s outfit. The height of the sandal is a counterbalance to the dangling ends of the maiko’s long obi. Okobo are difficult to walk in, but the mincing gait they ensure is thought to add to the maiko’s allure.

Maiko and geiko always wear white tabi socks. The big toe of the tabi is separated, like a mitten, so that the toes can grip the sandal easily. We wear socks one size smaller than our shoe size, which leads a neat and dainty appearance to the foot.

First year maiko's shoes have little bells dangling from them that makes a sound when they move. Geisha wear flat zori or geta rather than okobo.

The finishing touches to a geisha's outfit are a kimono bag and a fan.

Skincare

We don't know what geisha did when they were sat in front of their mirrors after removing makeup, but we can speculate based on the kind of skincare Japanese women used in times past.

Translucent, white skin was a Japanese ideal of feminine beauty, so they might have used whitening face creams. Camellia oil is commonly used as a cleanser, moisturiser, and to remove makeup in Japan. Rice bran is also used as a cleanser (it's good for dissolving binsuke) and ground azuki beans are used as an exfoliater. Cooled green tea, full of antioxidants, is used as a toner. Squalane and seaweed are used as moisturizers. Parasols are used to protect the skin from the sun.

Mineko Iwasaki describes a bath she took after a long day:

I lowered myself gingerly into the steaming water and soaked until my skin was supple. Then I got out of the tub and, with a bucket and hot water from a spigot in the wall, washed thoroughly with soap and water. Next I rubbed myself all over with a net pouch filled with rice bran. Rice bran contains a significant amount of Vitamin B and is great for the skin. Then I got back in the tub for a final soak.

Geisha also bathe in onsens.

Perfume

We do know geisha wear perfume, but specific fragrances are hard to pin down.

Guerlain made a perfume called "Yakko," inspired by the geisha Sadayakko, who was the first geisha to travel Europe, inspired Puccini's opera Madame Butterfly, and licensed her name to a range of beauty products. It's hard to find any information on the Yakko perfume or what notes it contained, but Guerlain's famous Mitsouko perfume came out in 1919. Inspired by Japan, it contains bergamot, peach, jasmine, rose, and spices.

In the early 20th century, perfumes by French designers like Guerlain, Coty, Chanel and Patou became fashionable among upper class Japanese women, so it's possible geisha used fragrances from these houses to further enhance their allure.

Mineko Iwasaki described one of the first geisha she knew as wearing strong perfume, which caused a cloud of scent to waft into the room every time she fluttered her fan, so perhaps in times past geisha wore perfumes with loud projection that helped them be noticed. In modern Japan, strong perfume is unpopular, as it can bother people on public transport and interfere with the smell and taste of food in restaurants. Geisha, being the perfect hostesses, may not choose a heavy perfume in the modern era so as to follow etiquette and not disturb their clients while they're enjoying a nice meal. Brands known for their light perfumes like Maison Margiela and Diptyque are top-sellers in Japan.

Until the mid 19th century in Japan, it was common for women to scent their kimonos by leaving them on top of an incense burner in a small cage.

Geisha and oiran (courtesans) would carry pieces of scented wood in their sleeves, and would rub scented powder into their hands and necks.

Misc

Mineko Iwasaki described carrying a handbag which contained her fan, a hand towel, lipstick, comb, and a small cushion. Every item had its own carrying case made from Eriman red silk and monogrammed in white with the characters for Mineko.

Shiseido, a brand which is still going strong today, was founded in Japan in 1872. Among their most popular early cosmetics were scented hair tonics and floral perfumes, which were considered to contribute to the brand's luxurious image, helping to make it popular with Japan's upper class. Geisha were at the forefront of beauty and sophistication, so while there's no documentation of it, it's likely that some of their products found their way into the toilettes of geisha due to its prominence in early 20th century Japan and sophisticated image.

A big part of the geisha's appeal isn't just her looks, but her demeanor, the way she moves, and her conversational skills. Geisha train in dance and traditional Japanese arts and are experts at having sophisticated conversations. Not going to go into too much detail as it's its own topic, but it's good to remember that a big part of their mystique comes from their talent, grace and etiquette, not just their physical beauty. They're the full package, not just part of it.

[igelmanz]

"Call me Larissa"

Chapter 1/2

Words:1123

Rating: T/M

Summary: When Larissa catches you staring at her, she thinks it's because you find her repulsive. You're not about to let that stand.

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

She was beautiful.

She might just have been the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, you thought. She was more than beautiful, she was ethereal, actually. The way the sunlight reflected off of her silver hair made you ache to touch it. You wanted nothing more than to free it from its intricate up-do and run your fingers through it. Would she like it? You thought about the sounds she would make, blushing at the thought.

Your gaze traveled further downward, scanning over her face, her prominent features, brows furrowed in concentration while she worked. You let your eyes wander, let them take in her lips, coated in red lipstick, and you found yourself wanting to kiss them until yours were the same shade.

And lower…

The expanse of her long neck visible to you. What would it be like to cover it in kisses, some soft, some not as much. What if you left marks on it? Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red.

And lower…

You took in the way her dress hugged her figure. She was the spitting image of perfection, but you couldn’t help but imagine ruining her. You imagined her, dress bunched up around her thighs. How beautiful she would look. You sighed, letting your eyes wander upwards again.

Chest, neck, lips, eyes. Eyes that were trained on you.

Her blue ones stared into your own, and you couldn’t help but feel like she was staring right into your soul. Your face burned and you quickly averted your eyes. God, you really had fucked up now.

She was your boss, and you were in a meeting, surrounded by staff members. And all you could think about was how her skin would feel if you ran your hand over it and how her fingers would feel inside-

“Professor, a word, please.”, you heard her say, snapping out of your line of thought. You noticed that everyone had gotten up and was leaving. Except for her. Oh no, you couldn’t handle being alone with her. What had you done to deserve this torture?

“O-of course, principal Weems”, you stuttered out, hoping that she didn’t notice your nervousness. She did.

You saw her rising from her chair, and she kept rising, and rising. You would never get used to this, how tall she was. And you would never stop admiring her, her height only making her more beautiful in your eyes. You were thankful that you were sitting because you knew exactly that you would have gotten weak in the knees at that moment.

She approached you, walking slowly, and you felt like prey under her gaze that couldn’t be describe as anything other than predatory. She came to a stop in front of you, and leaned on the desk that was separating the both of you, putting her hands on either side of your body. You felt like you would die at that very moment. She leaned closer, seemingly searching your eyes for something, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t help the whispered “holy shit”, that escaped you.

It seemed like she had found what she was looking for, because she narrowed her eyes at you before leaning back completely, now taking to pacing around the room. You heard her whisper “Why you, when… nevermind”.

You were confused, to say the least. Carefully, you got up from your chair, not sure what to do, so you just walked towards her.

“Um, principal Weems? Are you alright?”, you asked before flinching violently when she suddenly raised her voice without warning.

“Oh, I’ve had it with you! It’s no use playing nice now, you can drop the act!”, she screamed, startling you.

Ok. What. The. Fuck.

“I’m afraid I don’t under-“, you started before she cut you off, stepping closer with a raised hand.

A beautiful hand. Not the moment.

“You know, very well what I mean, professor.”, she said agitatedly.

You were still just as confused but you let her continue, too baffled to defend yourself. She, on the other hand, seemed to take your silence as confirmation.

“We took a chance with you, you’re our second normie teacher ever, and after last year, after what happened with Miss Thornhill, we placed our hopes in you. I placed my hopes in you! It seems I was mistaken.”, she ranted, and you cringed at the disappointed tone in her voice.

She stared at you accusingly, and you finally found the words you had been unsuccessfully searching for the last minute.

“Listen, I genuinely don’t know what I’ve done wrong! Working at nevermore has been great. I’m sorry for whatever it was that upset you, but if you could just explain it to me, please.”, you pleaded, aware, but not caring in this moment, how desperate you sounded. The idea of upsetting the principal mortified you, and you didn’t want to ruin whatever small chance you hat to get back on her good side.

You saw the confusion that replaced her anger for just a second, but it was gone so quickly that you weren’t sure whether it had actually been there or whether you had only imagined it.

“Don’t be ridiculous!”, she seethed, and with every step she took forwards, you took one back. “I’ve seen the way you look at me!”

Shit.

If she really knew how you thought of her, you were thoroughly fucked. And not in the way you wished.

But she proved you wrong with her next words.

“The fact that you didn’t even bother to hide it. The least you could have done is hide your staring. Do I disgust you that much? Is it the idea of me being shapeshifter? Is it repulsive to you?”, she asked, laughing a joyless laugh.

Well, now she really was going off trail. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it. A mistake, as you soon realized when your back hit the wall and you realized that she had cornered you. She was downright furious now, and it looked like she wanted to make you regret ever taking the job as a teacher here. Her hand shot out, taking your jaw between her pointer finger and her thumb, squeezing, effectively forcing you to look up at her. Not that you had been looking anywhere else anyway.

God, she was hot when she was angry.

“Listen, darling,”, she said, her words dripping with venom, the pet name tasting like poison on her tongue “feel free to do as you please, I don’t care. But there is one thing I do not tolerate, and that is insulting me or other outcasts. To insult me is to insult Nevermore, and I will not have you seeing my school in such a light. Especially if you want to continue working here.”

You stared up at her, not quite believing what you were hearing. Your boss, the Larissa Weems, the woman you had secretly been crushing on since you had begun working here, thought of you as an outcast-hating bigot. This just wouldn’t do.

“You’ve got it all wrong, I’m afraid.” You said, knees weak under her stare, her eyes burning into yours. “I don’t hate you, it’s quite the opposite, in fact.”, you said quietly, your eyes widening as you realized what you had basically just admitted to her.

She seemed to be confused once again, not sure how to take that confession. You felt her grip on your face soften, her hand taking to caressing it now, rather than squeezing. Your face grew hot under her touch.

"Such a curious one.", she murmured, running her thumb over your bottom lip, earning a sharp intake of breath from you.

She was still staring at you with that same intensity, but something was different. She was back to searching again, taking in your heavy breathing and blown pupils. You heard the hitch in her breath and it sent heat rushing down to your core.

“Professor”, she whispered breathlessly, letting you pull her closer to you.

“Principal Weems”, you panted.

“Call me Larissa.”, was the last thing she whispered against your lips before you closed the distance between you with a harsh tug on her dress, crashing your lips together.

She responded eagerly to your kisses, and you felt her hands exploring your body. You moaned into her mouth when she squeezed your breast.

You broke free from her due to your need for air, which gave you time to assess the situation.

Fuck.

You had just kissed your boss. You panicked, you needed this job. What if she fired you for this?

You pushed her away slightly, just enough to slip from her grasp and collect your things from one of the tables. You stumbled a little when you made your way to the door, your legs still shaky from the events that had just transpired.

“I better get going.”, you said, still panting, not daring to look at the silhouette of your boss, still leaning against the wall, not at all pleased with your leaving.

You had your hand on the doorknob, about to turn it when you felt a body pressing into yours, hugging you from behind. You felt her hot breath against your neck. A shiver ran down your spine when you heard a husky voice whisper in your ears.

“I’m not done with you yet, professor.”

----------

I hope you liked it. The second chapter is written. I'll post it if you guys like this one :)

[stanriya]

your night guest. (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

your the most sweet and nice best friend bennett that comes to your house at night turns out being... yandere?

tw. yandere bennett basically, but he's honestly too innocent

guys he's so sweet and so underrated I'm literally crying T_T

"you're my treasure"

bennett literally was rolling on his own bed thinking about what you have said today at yours weekly friend meeting. his you're treasure. gosh, has he lost his mind or you really have something toward him?! bennett would repeat your words in his head for hours, first scroll through his memory and all the details of this moment, starting from the sunny weather, light and soft wind that tickled his bare shoulders, your beautiful eyes that looked deep into his soul, your sweet pinkish lips (he won't dare to kiss them, no no, he just can't) and right after that flashback he immediately curl up, squeezing his eyes and blushing all over his face. and do this again. and again. and this cycle would go for the whole night, bennet has no doubt at it. but he can't stand it anymore. he just can't stand all those romantic made up scenarios about the two of you. he wants to express his eternal love to you, show you how much he adores you, because, ugh, man you're just perfect!! how else should he describe you?! all your character traits, he just found of them. he literally doesn't see any "negative" or "bad" traits in you (is it even possible for you?). all your smiles that you give to him whenever he failed or brought a new disaster to other people, you never reproach him for such things, in comparison with others.

his optimism reached its adequate limit ages ago, turning into some toxic constant mantra that he repeats every day if not every minute to himself, because he's not that impossible, right? people don't hate him because of all the problems that he causes that are not his fault and he's not left by them, right? bennett was boiling in this endless suffering cycle like, for years, or maybe even his whole life? until you came. yes, you made him happy for real. you actually made him laugh, all the innocent time you spend with him, with exactly zero toxicity in your friendship. is it even possible?

you're too perfec for him. to be even real.

how can he be even closer to you? no, you're friends. at least you think so. he doesn't even know how to overstep this "friendzone" boundary and don't lose you. because his life already pointless without you. he can't lose and you. no no no.

but, he can't stand it anymore either...

and what there's left? only one solution.

"I have to see her." bennett pulled the blanket off him and started dressing up to meet you. his heart is beating hard. his cheeks are pinky. he is ready to tell what he really thinks about you. the question is now, are you ready to hear it? well, you have no choice. because bennett loves you more than anything. he can't escape his feelings toward you, so neither do you.

bennett left his house and headed to your place. though your home address is new to him at least it should be, it's actually not strange to him. he remembers it and goes like into his own place.

you were very surprised by your night guest. you didn't expect anyone, especially always polite and sweet bennett. but how could you ignore him?

"y/n, I wanna to tell you something... but promise not to laugh" you giggled, admitting bennett's shy smile and his hand behind his head, his attempt at something serious. "I... I-i... hey, could you please turn around?..." you adored his puppy eyes right now, so you turned around just like bennett asked you. "thank you" bennet is always like this. you feel how nervous he is and try to relax him. "yes, I'm fine, thank you though, I'm just... I just..." he saw you turning back to him wanting to see him, but the moment you saw his eyes he just confessed.

"I love you !!!"

bennett confessed with squeezed eyes, red face and hands clenched into fists. you can't imagine a cuter scene in your life.

"I love you too, bennett."

there is no end to his happiness. you literally made him the happiest person in the whole world, the way his eyes glared at you, he took you into his hands the second moment. he even cries because of how much he loves you. please, be his for the rest of your lifes. bennett swears to make you loved.

" you're the light of my whole life, love <3 "

[bluerose5]

With One Look

"What were you and Isobel discussing?"

On the road to Baldur's Gate, Falorin hadn't expected Astarion to approach him with such a question, glancing over at him while they kept step with one another.

"What?" Fal asked, his brow furrowed.

"Come now," Astarion said. "You've been acting strangely since you've spoken with her. You just seem quiet. Thoughtful, maybe?"

"I—" Using his staff as a walking stick, he tightened his grip upon its helve. "We were talking about how she and Aylin met."

"Is that so?"

"Mm-hmm..." With a nod, Falorin sank his teeth into his bottom lip, taking a second before releasing it. "Tell me, do you believe in love at first sight?"

Now, that wasn't where Astarion expected their conversation to go.

"I don't know. The notion is nice enough for a fantasy, I suppose." He shrugged. "But I never gave it much thought. Never really had that luxury when my survival was my first priority for so long." He was careful with his words, trying not to offend one way or another. "Why? Do you?"

Falorin smiled to himself, averting his eyes away from him, the beginnings of a blush spread across freckled cheeks.

As if that wasn't answer enough in Astarion's book.

"I told her that I believe there is power in a look, yes," he said.

"And...?" It didn't take a genius to figure out where that was going.

"And I felt such power the night I met you."

Astarion's chest radiated with warmth.

"Are you saying you fell in love with me at that party?" Astarion asked.

"Not necessarily. Maybe?" The word turned into more of a question than an answer. "I know that I felt something, though. I have always been drawn to divination, to matters of time and fate. And while I didn't know exactly how at the time, what I did know was that we had some sort of connection, one that would eventually grow into something beautiful if given the chance." After a moment, Astarion felt the edge of Falorin's mind brush along his. "Perhaps it would be best to show you instead."

Astarion watched him with bated breath.

Then, slowly, he crossed the threshold of Fal's mind, entering his thoughts with ease.

Their tadpoles communed in a purr.

It wasn't the first time they reflected on the past in such a way, but it was the first time Astarion witnessed the full depth of Falorin's emotions. He experienced his shock through his eyes, his mind, when Astarion happened upon him in Cazador's library over a century ago.

Impossible though it may be, Astarion felt his heart start to race as Falorin's did back then, caught in the act of sneaking about while the masquerade droned on in the distance.

Astarion experienced it as Falorin turned around, startled, his hand over his chest, only to stop short the instant he stared into blood red eyes.

All of the air left the room.

Time itself stood still.

Everything else faded away until there was only the two of them.

Astarion watched as he offered Falorin his hand.

He felt then the sensation that Falorin tried to describe, but words did it no justice.

There was a certainty that echoed between them, that echoed across a multitude of timelines and universes well beyond their comprehension to reach them in that exact moment. That certainty brought comfort with it, and that comfort was one of belonging.

It was a belonging that spoke of home.

Astarion felt like home.

And when Falorin placed his hand into his, their fate was sealed with but a touch. Not a single doubt plagued him in that moment. Whatever the future had in store for them —whether it be as friends, lovers, partners, or any combination of the three— Falorin knew that it would always end with them together.

Astarion watched himself through Falorin's eyes, leaning in to press a kiss upon the back of his hand, before the vision disappeared.

Their minds retreated from one another, replaced with the sight of the road ahead of them.

"Well," Astarion chuckled, struck breathless by a myriad of emotions, "isn't that flattering?" He lowered his voice. "And intense."

Falorin glanced at him sheepishly, brushing some of his hair back behind his ear.

"As you said before, I hardly expect your experience of that night to be the same, not when you had your own survival to worry about," Fal explained, "but I'm fond of that memory. Even if it wasn't time for us to be together then, I like the idea that our fates are intertwined, no matter the nature of our relationship, and that we'll always find our way back to one another when the time is right."

Their fingers grazed against each other until Astarion laced them together.

"Always the romantic," he whispered.

"Guilty as charged."

"You make it sound so compelling," Astarion admitted. "You make me want to believe."

They grew quiet as they walked, hand-in-hand.

"You know," Astarion continued after a moment, "I might know how I feel about the whole 'love at first sight' thing in general, but I do know that I care about you. Deeply."

He squeezed Falorin's hand, finding comfort in its warmth.

"And I know that whatever challenges await us in the Gate, we'll get through them, so long as we face them together."

[lilithsrecord]

𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖟𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖑

part 2

♱ 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

outward appearance means nothing if your are unable to carry yourself with grace and confidence. it’s important to radiate an aura that is unique to u and is beautiful and enchanting to others. find your essence. are u an ethereal innocent angel or a bombshell femme fatale? Just by channeling in a sort of character in your demeanour can drastically change how other people view you. you might be wondering “hey this is a bit much just for school,” and ur right but it’s all fun at the end of the day

𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

𝔣𝔢𝔪𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔢:

femme fatale: noun

an attractive and seductive woman, especially one who is likely to cause distress or disaster to a man who becomes involved with her.

"a femme fatale who plays one man off against another in pursuit of money"

a femme fatale is a women who shows power through how well she can toy with a mans brain. in hindsight she might seem like a women catered to the male gaze due to the strong enchantment she has upon men, but do not be fooled. a femme fatale is a strong willed and powerful women who only caters to her own needs. she achieves her goals by seducing her pawns to use them to her own advantage. channeling in the characteristics of a femme fatale can make one feel powerful, sexy, and oh so alluring. to become a femme fatale you must ooze with seduction. femme fatale examples include gilda, from the movie “gilda”, jane smith from “mr. and mrs. smith, and amy dunne from “gone girl”.

feel powerful when you walk from one place to another. let other people stare at you while they feel intrigued by ur allure but never completely give them what they want.

make your appearance look bold and striking. be sexy. dress to show off what other people want for themselves. wear dark and luxurious colours. let your hair be free and voluptuous. a bold lip and sharp eye makeup brings attention to the most seductive parts of your face. a femme fatale is nothing without a striking appearance

have your voice sound like smooth whiskey. speak slow to captivate others. make sure your voice comes out prominent and clear. add a slight rasp into your voice. each word u speak should be carefully chosen. people should be addicted to hearing you speak. be sassy and smart but always with class.

smell expensive. pick a scent that exudes class. examples: black orchid by tom ford. mugler alien. good girl by carolina herrera.

a femme fatale makes sure to always get her way. don’t be afraid to use ur seductive quality’s to get what u want whether that is good grades or social status. [ however do not put urself in dangerous positions. please don’t sleep with a teacher lmao ]

𝔠𝔬𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢

coquette: noun

a woman who flirts.

in my own definition a coquette to me is a girl who is delicate and radiates innocence. she is more commonly known as the girl next door or the pretty girl. people become attracted to this essence due to the childish ways of a coquette. though that sounds concerning, a coquette isn’t a women who tries to act like a child on purpose. she is just a women who is naturally sweet and innocent. they hold onto a childlike quality that the rest of us have lost and so desperately crave. the allure of the coquette is ultimately her adorableness. her demeanour is light hearted and youthful. no one feels the need to do her wrong because she is just too cute for any harm. she is an ingenue. examples of coquettes are lizzy grant, cat valentine from “victorious”, alice cullen from “twilight”, and marilyn monroe.

wear clothes that make u look cute. the coquette aesthetic has been around for quite a while. the main aspect of a coquette outfit is its innocently teasing nature. wear bright colours that compliment ur skin like a blush pink, bright reds, and pretty lilacs. make people around u appreciate ur innocent look but know that there imagination is running wild. the makeup for these looks are more natural and rely on the condition of ur actual skin. take good care of ur skin. have a set routine but remember that it’s completely okay if u have pimples! you can still be a pretty little coquette even with acne.

vanilla or any kind of sweet scents are a staple for the coquette essence. ariana grandes perfumes are perfect for making people mouths water for a sweet snack when u walk by. olympea by paco rabanne is my personal favourite.

be kind and sweet to people who deserve it. people need to see u as a sweet and innocent doll who can do no wrong. but don’t be afraid to be risky and be the complete opposite of that once in a while. the rare moments where u show ur femme fatale side will have people incredibly intrigued by you.

perfect your voice. your voice should sound pleasant like some sort of princess. make your voice sound higher but not ear screeching high. add a beautiful mix of air and softness to ur voice. a breathy voice is incredibly intoxicating and suits the coquette.

𝔭ê𝔩𝔢-𝔪ê𝔩𝔢

pêle-mêle: adverb

in a confused, rushed, or disorderly manner.

also known as the manic pixie dream girl, a pêle-mêle is the essence of a girl who is described as whimsical, eccentric and is quite literal the life of the party. though at first glance she’s all rainbows and sun shine, the shadow side of the pêle-mêle can be described as a tortured artist. her optimism is delightful. she is not afraid to take risks. she’s a mess but people can not help to be intrigued by her free spirited ways for she is a drug to people who crave adventure. examples of a pêle-mêle include ramona flowers from scott pilgrim vs the world, mia wallace from pulp fiction, harley quinn from the DC comics, and holly golighty from breakfast at tiffany’s.

don’t be afraid to take risks. risks and adventure is what the pêle-mêle lives off of. be brave. do things you are afraid to do. start small and work your way up like from riding that roller coaster your so afraid of to having a motorcycle race with your friends (trust me those are so fun!). show people just how daring you can be and immediately people will be magnetized to you.

wear clothes that are unique and you feel comfortable with. the pêle-mêle rejects conformity and the way you appear should reflect that. wear clothes that harmonize with your crazy personality. be daring and bold with your makeup. make sure you stand out from the crowd and that you do not care what people think. the alternative style perfectly suits someone who embodies this essence.

be confident. obviously this rule applies to all the essences but confidence and self love is at the core of the pêle-mêle. you need to show people that you do not care what they think of you and that at the end of the day, you are just here for a good time. the more you practice self love, the easier it will be for you to express yourself without the fear of judgement from others.

be a socialite. don’t be afraid to speak your mind to people. pêle-mêle’s are usually people persons. they love good company that they can go on adventures with. make friends by being your true self and don’t hold yourself back. even a few mishaps by saying the wrong thing from time to time can make people fall in love with your clumsy nature.

obviously there are plenty of other essences you can achieve for yourself but these are my top three favourites. to find out who exactly who you want to become try the few tips listed below!

how to find your personal essence

what kind of people captivate you? what type of personalities do you see that you wish you could be? do you find yourself being envious of the pretty girl next door, the man eater, or the mysterious persona? figure out what kind of a person do u wish to truly become and inherit their manner. find out the characteristic of ur desired essence to the littlest of detail. this can include from the way you walk, talk, eat, sleep, look, smell ext. think of this as becoming your ideal best self. take the female archetype quiz to get a better understanding of your self.

what kind of aesthetic catches your eye? do you enjoy the glamorous high fashion life or do you like the softer cherry coke and heart shaped sunglasses niche? maybe you enjoy completely different things or a blend of a few. live up to this aesthetic. do this by expressing this aesthetic in the way you dress to how u decorate your room.

what kind of environment do you feel the most comfortable in? are you someone who loves education and school? or do you love the idea of being free and living in an RV for the rest of your life? maybe you just want to live in a cozy high rise new york apartment or a huge mansion up in beverly hills. envision where you see your ideal self in 10-20 years. your ideal environment can reveal a lot about what kind of lifestyle choices you want to make.

you might be thinking to yourself hey these aren’t the best tips for school. and at an educational standpoint you’re right. but it’s important to embody your best ideal self to truly enjoy this lifetime. these are little things that can be used to motivate you. i believe that inner self work should be prioritized over your school work though both are important. make sure you are taking some time out of your week to find out more about yourself and who you want to become. be the best you.

[mae-gi-writes]

Yūgen | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Yugen (n.) a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe that triggers a deep, emotional response. 

Requested by anon! In which Sunwoo, the ace of the volleyball team, is curious about what you’re drawing all the time. Until one day, he stumbles upon a drawing of himself made from yours truly. 

Genre: fluff, volleyball player! Sunwoo and art student reader, shy love, softness, and inspired by haikyuu because I have been obssessed with the anime lately TT__TT  A/N: It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve posted here! Slowly but surely, I’m going through my inbox and replying to your requests. Thank you for your patience, stay safe loves, ily all xx 

-----

Sunwoo wasn't artistically inclined.

But that never stopped him from admiring those that were. He was always so curious as to how just a flick of fingers managed to create a shadow, or how just one glance at a subject made it through onto paper without so much as an effort to remember the details. It was like it was automatically recorded into one's brain, hands already registered to mimic the curves and the folds and the shadows that turned into nothing short of a miraculous piece. So when he caught sight of someone drawing, it always piqued his interest. He stumbled upon you one late afternoon after his volleyball practice, with sweat dotting his forehead and his training bag slung casually over his shoulder. He was about to direct his way to the parking lot upon exiting the gymnasium, only to spot a lone figure huddled upon the bleachers and curled into a ball that caused Sunwoo to frown. Slowly sidling up to the stranger in question and peeking over the railing to catch a glimpse of your face, his eyes are instantly driven to the sketchpad in your hands.

You didn't notice him though, so absorbed in your own world with earphones blocking out reality that a tsunami could've gone unnoticed. So Sunwoo took advantage to climb over onto the opposite bleacher and, after ensuring that your back wouldn't turn to greet him, leaned over the separation to catch sight of a lone figure cartwheeling freely over the page. Woah. You were talented alright. There was nothing else to describe the fluidity of movement you caught with your pencil. It made Sunwoo's breath catch in his throat. He had the sudden urge to know exactly what kind of face hid behind the visual mastery manifesting before his very eyes. After all, there must be other things for them to see rather than the boring literal reality that most people settled for. What kind of imageries were they creating in their heads? What beautiful stories were they crafting? Worlds they got lost in? You moved then, causing Sunwoo to jolt back and scurry away with his heart beating out of his chest, deciding that it was enough spying for the day. After that day, he made sure to seek you out every time after practice although he noticed you never strayed too long in the same place, always moving about like a shadow lingering in the corner, invisible yet omniscient. Sometimes you would find a quiet spot in a patch of sunlight by the tennis courts. Sometimes you'd be found on the bleachers, alert eyes observing every pass, every move, every twist of a body like  camera taking everything in. Sunwoo never approached you. Not that he didn't want to, but he found it awkward to just come up to you and present himself as the guy who'd been stalking your drawings. So he admired you from afar instead, relished in the passion of your dark coffee coloured eyes and in the attentive focus dipping your eyebrows in a soft frown, lips paeted slightly in concentration. "Do you know her?" He'd asked one of his friends from the volleyball team once, during their lunch break as he saw you line up at the cafeteria. Changmin took a peek at your face before he shook his head, "she might be in one of my electives." "Which one?" "I think it's art." Sunwoo forced his face to remain in a mask of calmness as he grabbed a steak sandwich, no fries, "do you know her name?" "Nah. I don't think she's ever spoken in class," Changmin's eyebrows quirk up then, "why'd you ask?" "No reason." Changmin's pointed look defined anything but that.  Although he did have the decency to drop the subject as soon as the rest of the volleyball team joined the table. Sunwoo got his answer a few days later when he practically toppled over you and your drawing crayons. It was his mistake. He'd been leaning too far out from the top of the basketball bleachers, struggling to get even the smidgest glimpse of what amazing piece of art hiding under your jacket sleeve, only for his foot to slip. Down he went with a curse, crashing straight into your body and quickly scrabbling to wrap his arms around your head, a pathetic attempt to cushion your fall as you fell into a heap in front of the bleachers. "You--you okay?" He huffed out, breathless and heart beating like a time bomb. Pulling his arms away slowly, gently, he finally met your gaze straight on and --oh my, your eyes were not coffee coloured at all.  But more of a honey-brown, wide open and framed by soft lashes. Currently dilated in panic. "I'm fine! What--What about you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry--" "No it was my fault," he made a grab for your sketchbook and scattered pens only for his orbs to register the face messily etched onto the paper. His breath caught. For a minute, he could do nothing but stare at the replica of his face made in charcoal. Those were his eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The scowl he wore during his soccer matches. That was him. The resemblance was akin to that of perfection. That was before your hands snatched away the sketchbook before you quickly slammed it closed, cheeks blazing red, "that's-- I swear I"m not a creep, I-- I just do that for practice--" "It's amazing." Your head-- which had been bowed this entire time for fear that anger would be his response -- shot up in surprise, "what?" "It's amazing," Sunwoo repeated. He wouldn't mind repeating it forever, he realized, if that meant he got to see that aforable blush of yours. He reached out with his hand, "can I look at it again?" So you allowed him after some slight hesitation, and if he noticed, he didn't comment. Fingers brushing against yours slightly, he handled the sketchbook with utmost care as he flipped through the pages with child-like awe. He'd seen your drawings, sure, but mere glimpses here and there, a sneak peek, always accompanied with the fear of being found. But now, he could take his time and actually relish in the soft tracings of your crayon, admire the gentle shadings that made up the tip of his nose. You had managed to capture that frown -- the one he used whenever he concentrated -- to perfection and for a minute he swore he'd fallen in love with himself. "You're really good," he murmured, though that definitely banalized the array of praises popping through his head, "you should keep doing them. I mean it." "So, you're not--" you paused, "mad?" "Well I think you'd have more reason to be mad if you knew I was stalking you from before." "What?" Oh Sunwoo, you idiot. Your eyes had tripled their size and you were looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. He lifted his hands as defence, "that sounded so much better in my head. I swear I'm not that creepy, or a stalker, I just--well you're always drawing and I got curious but I can't really come over and tell you to show me so I had to hide and peek and--" You burst out laughing in his face and despite the fact that he was the cause, he couldn't help joining in with a small chuckle, a grin spreading across his features at how alive you looked at this very moment. "You can ask me next time," your grin settled into a soft smile, "I don't bite." "Your words, not mine," he said, tone lighter and teasing. He helped you gather your belongings and as the pair of you started towards the school gates, he asked for your name. "Y/N," you answered, "and you?" "Sunwoo," he noticed the sky was darkening into purple, a sign that twilight was approaching. Usually, he'd be in a hurry to catch the last bus of the evening to avoid the pain of traffic after six. But it was like his body was slowing down on its own to join your pace, as if he was automatically tuning in to the rhythm of your steps. He found he didn't mind. "So why athletes? Any special reason why you like drawing them?" He asked as you reached the gates. "I just like watching the way they move. It's ...graceful," a hand went to rub the back of your neck, "and they come in handy for figure practice." "I mean, we're not that graceful when you're on the pitch ready to get blown away," he chuckled, "but thanks. At least we know we don't play like animals." "Oh god no. The volleyball team's pretty good. The rugby team on the other hand..." you sigh before you shake your head, "that team is nearly impossible to draw." His shoulders shook as he laughed, "well I don't think they aim for graceful. They look like a pack of wild dogs. Even I don't understand how they play." You had reached the said bus stop by then before you spotted your mother's car along the sidewalk, "oh, my mom's here," you turn to him, "where do you live? Maybe we can drop you--" Meeting your mom? On the first day of meeting you? Sunwoo's hands flew up, shaking them wildly in response, "oh no no, that's not necessary. I'll see you tomorrow!" Thank god for the bus that pulled up at the right time so that he didn't have to linger longer than he needed to. But he didn't miss the small wave of your hand as you watched him go, the smile on your face warming his heart even when it was one of the coldest winter days of the year. From that day onwards, Sunwoo made it a must to make his presence known whenever you were deep in your sketches, always observing, sometimes silently keeping you company and sometimes getting so wrapped up in conversation that your pens would lay forgotten by your bag as you bantered back and forth about subjects that would've made people throw you looks of concern. It became routine to have Sunwoo's head pop up from behind the bleachers or to see him walk up the path to your special hiding spot, right where your gaze would meet the tennis court. You sketched him more and more, folding your drawings into your bag so that he wouldn't see although the urge to catch his face on paper was a growing addiction you couldn't ignore. Even your friends had noticed his lingering presence, proceeding to prod you with questions reflecting their curiosity. "He's from the vòlleyball team isn't he?" Yeji asked one time during lunch, upon noticing the way the said young man's stare lingered over the back of your head before turning away just as quickly, "do you know him?" "We've spoken once or twice." "How do you know him?" Your other friend, Saeron, nudged you with a wriggle of her brows. You brushed her teasing away, "we bumped into each other and then he saw my drawings." "Oh right, you do sketch athletes," Yeji leaned forward, mouth full of bread, "did you sketch him?" "I did, actually." "Oh awkward," Saeron giggled, "he's handsome though, can't deny that. You gotta introduce us sometime." You mumbled out an agreement even though you sat with them just for the sake of having people around. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate them. You did. But they seemed to speak a language you couldn't quite grasp. You would rather sit in your own silence, enjoy your own company if that made sense. Maybe that was why it was so surprising, that you allowed Sunwoo to linger as long as he wanted to. There was something authentic about the way he reacted to your words, an unguarded expression that made you comfortable enough to speak up without fear of judgment. Spending time with Sunwoo was listening to water trickle down the river. Smooth and free. Peaceful. But Sunwoo seldom knew of your high regards, was not aware of the tiny sketch of his figure in mid-spike that was hidden in the pocket of your school skirt so that you could take a peek whenever you felt out of place or nervous. It calmed you down to admire his composure, even if his expression was a mere mimic that could not replace reality. "Do you have any material in particular that you like to use?" Sunwoo asked one cloudy afternoon, breaking the silence while huddling a little closer to peek at your newest sketch of Lee Juyeon; a basketball star player known for his quick reflexes and adept playing style. Not only was his skill on par with that of a Nationals team, but his looks had garnered him quite a fanbase from the get-go. Sunwoo would've liked to say that he wasn't jealous of the way your thumb gently applied shade to Juyeon's lower lip. But the spike in the middle of his chest proved him otherwise. "I like charcoal the most, it's the easiest to work with," pausing to admire your work, your eyes glanced over at him, "do you draw?" He scoffed, "like a five year old." "Wanna try?" "No way. I'll ruin it. I'm okay with admiring it from afar." You hummed an unknown tune as you pulled back your sketchbook, "how is practice?" "Alright. Could be better. We won a practice match last week so we're kind of taking it easy." "That's good though isn't it?" Your gaze met his. His eyes were various gradients of warm maroon and you wished-- at this very moment -- to paint his features into memory. That was when you realized how close you were. You shuffled slightly back and didn't notice the frown Sunwoo threw you in response, "it is. And I'm happy we get to rest. The team deserves it." "You're pursuing it in College?" Your eyes tried not to linger too much over his lips, "volleyball, I mean." "Depends," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "if we make it to the Nationals." "You will." "Someone's confident," he chuckled. "Well I'm no pro but even I can tell you're talented, Sunwoo," you peeked at him from behind your fringe, glad that you could blame the cold for your red cheeks when just the intensity and closeness of his entity made you want to squirm, "so if there's anyone who can do it, it's you." It was impossible to keep eye contact after such a confession. You lowered your gaze, glad for your sketchbook that acted as a distraction. It was at that very moment that the paper tucked so neatly in your pocket slipped out, causing Sunwoo to quickly make a grab for it. You made a noise of protest before trying to snatch it back, but the boy only chuckled before unfolding the creased page so that there he was, depicted in all his glory. "Is that--" his voice was hoarse and you took this as your chance to steal it from his grasp, reddened cheeks burning and fingers shaking as you folded it back to its tiny square shape, "is that me?" "Y--yes." "You--you keep that with you?" "I--I do," you lifted your chin up defiantly, though you felt your limbs trembling. His eyes, they pierced your own, piecing together a coherence that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. When he spoke next, his words were a mere murmur. "Why?" "I--I don't know," eyes darting towards the ground, you mumbled, "I just like watching you...play." A pause. Then, Sunwoo shifted a little bit closer. "You like watching me play? Or do you like," he cocked his head, "watching me?" If you were red before then you were probably the colour of a fire engine truck by now. Averting your eyes and turning your head away were instinctive responses due to the blood rushing through your face. "Stop flirting with me," came your mumble. Laughing softly in response, he scooted himself a little closer, so close that his shoulder brushed your back. He leaned over, head tilted to catch your expression. "Cute," his lips broke out in a crooked grin and you swore you felt your heart explode. Flustered, you shoved him away out of instinct but he wasn't having any of that. His hand grabbed your wrists and with a yelp, you were dragged even closer to his chest. "You like looking at me that much huh?" His tone was teasing while his eyes glimmered with playful mischief, "why is that,Y/N?" "You ask as if you don't know," you mumbled out through jumbled words and you were glad he actually understood you. But instead of laughing some more, his features softened into a smile instead as he proceeded to gaze down at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was in your normal behaviour to admire people. Not the other way around. And at this very moment, you felt way out of your comfort zone. "I don't know." Your orbs flew up to his in surprise and what you found in those coffee-coloured pupils made your breath stutter, heat coiling through your abdomen. "It...it calms me down," your whisper was barely louder than a breath but by the way Sunwoo's smile widens to reach his eyes, you could tell he heard you just fine. "I like watching you too," he replied. A strand of your hair caught in the wind and he raised his hand to curl it around the back of your ear, his touch ghosting with sparks wherever flesh bumped into flesh. You felt warm. He didn't pull away. Didn't bother hiding the slight dust of pink in his cheeks either, as he slowly allowed his palm to cradle the side of your face. Gently. As if he feared you might run away, recoil back. But you didn't. Even with your breaths going staccato, even if your heart felt like a wild animal. You calmed yourself down with the knowledge that he seemed just as nervous as you were and suddenly, out of a stroke of boldness, your hand went up to hold on to his, pressing it close to your cheek. His breath hitched. You shivered. The wind blew against your figures, a gentle reminder that the day was coming to an end. You weren't exactly sure what changed that day. There were no verbal agreements, nothing that suggested your relationship had changed. Yet, the subtle touches of his hand against your back, your shoulders, moving your hair from one shoulder to another, complemented by his gentle doe-eyed stare that made your toes curl, these changes were small, but significant. And you couldn't find it in your heart to say that you disliked it. What are we? The words lingered at the tip of your tongue, as bitter as the aftertaste of coffee as you stole small glances in his direction. You were sitting comfortably under a tree that overlooked the tennis court where Sunwoo had decided to join you. He'd fallen asleep halfway through your beginning sketch and was now leaning against the tree trunk, face relaxed and body leaned towards yours, close enough that you could admire his face. Countless hours you had spent tracing Sunwoo's features on paper. Countless times you had imagined tracing his lips with your thumb, wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. Maybe it was just curiosity or maybe you had let him walk into your heart so easily that you hadn't realized it yourself. But if there was one thing you could swear your heart upon it would be that you could no longer imagine every day without Sunwoo's presence at your side. As if on instinct, your fingers took a life of their own as they reached up to push a few strands away from his face. They gently carved a path down his cheek, landing at the corner of his jaw. Dangerously close to his open mouth. There was no denying it. Sunwoo was beautiful. Handsome. Had those features on par to that of a model's. You were so focused on edging your way to touch his lower lip that you didn't realize you had been staring, until you glanced up to see his brown orbs fixated on yours. You froze. Shit. "Like what you see?" He murmured. Then, before you could scramble back and probably run with your tail between your legs, his own hand grasped your own and he pushed himself off the trunk before his head angled towards yours, finding your lips. Soft. Sunwoo's lips were soft. You panicked. Not used to the closeness. The fire that sparked between your lids. But his other hand went to clasp your jaw, holding you close as he kissed your next protest away and unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek. Shivering in his touch, there was no running away from the way his mouth molded against yours so snugly, and you didn’t want to. You found yourself addicted to the sweet pressure of his upper lip meeting your lower ones and soon enough -- without realizing -- you melted into his touch. 

Sunwoo made a noise that sounded like a soft grunt, his other hand lacing around your waist to pull you closer so that you tumbled halfway into his lap. With embarrassment suddenly flooding through you, you let out a squeak that he answered with a chuckle of his own before distracting you once more with a series of kisses that left you gasping.

Your hands, initially balled into fists in your lap, went to rest against his chest and you didn’t realize that you were gripping onto his school shirt until you parted for air. Only were you aware of your compromising position, of the hard ridges of the young man’s thighs, of the firmness of his chest against your palms, of the way he seemed to be so much bigger than you even though he was a lean athlete, meant to be light and as speedy as the wind. 

Breaths coming out ragged, you tried to slow the beating of your heart. Though it seemed to be quite the challenge, given how lovingly, how intense, Sunwoo seemed to be in making love to your neck, nibbling on your pulse point and causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips. 

A whistle blew in the distance.

The soccer team. They’d be crawling up the hill any minute now.

“Sunwoo,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with mixed feelings of desire and embarrassment. You feebly tried pushing against his chest, to no avail. He merely groaned, head tilting upwards to catch your mouth into another kiss. 

“Sunwoo,” you groaned against his lips. But he held on for dear life, one hand clasping the back of your neck, tangled into your locks. The other around your waist, pressing you as close as he could possibly get you to be. 

“Just one more,” he mumbled in-between kisses, hooded eyes fluttering closed and head slanting to kiss you a little deeper, a little harder.

Your body was on fire. You weren’t used to this intimacy, nor all of the affection he was raining down upon you. 

But it felt good. It felt amazing. Eye-opening.

He finally relented after what seemed like an eternity and you quickly made a move to scramble out of his lap. Though he wasn’t having any of that, grip made of iron as he held on. You looked up to snap at him to let go before everyone saw but was faced with his pout instead, which was enough to bring down your defences. 

“Please,” his pout deepened and your heart practically vaulted through your chest. Cute. Cute. Cute. Stop. Burying his face into your neck, he whispered, “I just wanna hold you.” 

So he did. And thank god the team had decided to take a different route so that you would avoid their imploring, questioning gazes. Though Sunwoo admitted that he’d already known they would go up from the other side of the gymnasium, considering they did that every other week to train their stamina in the process. 

That earned him a light smack on the side of his head, making him whine, “What did I do to deserve this Y/N?” 

“You knew!” You wanted to throw him a glare, but it was impossible when you were busy fighting the grin spreading across your face. 

He grinned back at you, that crooked smile that always resulted in a burst of butterflies roaring through your abdomen. Just like now. 

“So, since you have a drawing of me that you keep staring at every day--” his words died into laughter when you tried smacking his arm, proceeding to cage your wrist with his hand before kissing your knuckles. You squirmed as he continued, “does that mean I can get a picture of you?”

You let out a noise of protest, “that depends,” you mumbled, unconsciously finding refuge in his neck.

Chuckling, Sunwoo grasped your chin lightly to pull you back so that his brown orbs gazed right into yours with a gentleness that had you weak at the knees, “on what?” 

“On what I get in return.” 

“What if I say I’ll take you on a date?” he said wickedly. 

You couldn’t help your smile. 

“I guess that could work.” 

[mitsukui]

put your lips like this | f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader.

Summary: there is a secret buried inside your heart that is keeping you from going to the Yule Ball. However, Fred decides to be the greatest of friends and  teach you one thing or two.

Word Count: 2.1k - oops...

Warnings: none! Just a whole lot of fluff! ✨ Oh, there is a curse word towards the ending.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS, BABIES! *aggressively listens to ‘My Boo’, by Usher and Alicia Keys*. Not to be dramatic, but James Phelps with long hair could punch me right in the face, and I would thank him. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention!  ♡

Masterlist!

“You know I’m good at keeping secrets, so just tell me already! C’mon, tell me why you don’t want to go to the Yule Ball.”

A heavy and utterly annoyed sigh left your lips. Fred Weasley – that prick! – had been tormenting you the entire day. You knew he was a curious soul, but you had never imagined he would try so hard to make you spill one of your secrets out.

It was not something you fancied sharing; actually, it was something that made you feel rather pathetic and embarrassed. How could you tell your friend, whom you had unexpectedly developed feelings for, that you had never been kissed?

Curiosity and anticipation were emanating from his figure as he whispered soft ‘tell me’s, and moved anxiously on his chair. You fidgeted with the quill in your hand before you sighed once more. It did not seem like he was going to give up on solving that mystery any time soon. “Alright, fine. I will tell you. But only if you promise you will act as if nothing had ever happened.”

“Pinky promise!” He immediately dropped his own quill and extended his right hand towards you, his little finger waiting up to be intertwined with yours. Your eyes studied his hand, and you did not fail to notice how big and veiny they were.

Oh, Godric, the voice that took form of your consciousness echoed in your head, this boy is going to be the death of me.

Reluctantly, you closed your textbook and put your quill down on the wooden table, these two actions being followed by the connection between your fingers. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, the similarity to a little boy that he carried in his behavior causing you to chuckle. However, your good spirits soon vanished away when you came to the realization you now had to tell him the truth. You had never been good at lying, for all it mattered.

He beamed widely at you, and he had his ears ready to capture all the words that were about to slip from your lips. But nothing was coming out of them, and a slight impatience resulted in his eyebrows being furrowed together. Fred went back to whispering words to hurry you into opening up, and the situation just overwhelmed your inexperienced heart.

It was all too much: you could not bear with the fact that he was staring so intensely at you, nor with the fact that you were about to tell him you saw yourself as a ridiculously stupid teenager who had never felt a pair of lips brushing against their own.

“I don’t really know how to do the whole…kissing thing. And I refuse to go to the Yule Ball because of it, given that chances of being kissed by your date are high.”

Your confession came out as a train losing its track – fast, unruly and through gritted teeth. Although you were deeply ashamed of that part of you, his face expressed the total opposite of any of your feelings.

His eyebrows were still furrowed together, but now scoff dripped from his words. “Yeah, right. And George is more handsome than me.”

You could swear your heart skipped a beat at that moment. Blinking in the rawest surprise your body could internally gather, you stared at him and waited for him to say anything else. You were lost for words. How could he not believe you?

“I mean, you’re incredibly beautiful. And I know you have a few people interested in you.” When you raised an eyebrow at his latter words, he was quick to snap back at you. “I’ve noticed how that Ravenclaw boy looks at you.”

Even though there was an inconspicuous blush tainting your face due to his compliments, you waved his words off and laughed shyly. He probably was just acting nice towards you. That was a huge characteristic of the Weasley family – being raised by an amazing woman like Molly herself made such a thing come out naturally.

You remained quiet for a few moments, your heart beating fast in your chest and your eyes staring out the library windows. You still had a hard time believing you had just confessed your deepest secret to your love interest, but it was of no use crying over spilt milk. If he were one to keep his promises, one of your rare studying sessions with Fred Weasley would soon return to normal.

But what if he started pitying you for it? Or what if he stopped talking to you, once he concluded your universes did not collide? He surely was vastly experienced when it came down to kissing. Kissing Fred Weasley would probably be the biggest honor of your life.

Unconsciously, your eyes left the windows and roamed the surroundings until they reached his lips. It was almost as if the whole world had stopped.

Fred had thin lips, but they seemed to be astonishingly soft for someone who caused as much trouble as he did. His upper lip was subtly curved, and you were mesmerized by every single little detail you could visually grasp. That moment would haunt your thoughts for a long time, once it was pure cruelty how you had fallen out of love – the one you loved did not love you back.

But you were terribly wrong about that. Fred had been experiencing some shifts on his feelings towards you lately. He had watched you blossom into a charming young girl, and there was something about you hitting hard on his heart. And, frankly speaking, after he caught you looking at his lips, he would be in heaven if he ever got the chance to kiss you.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He helped you gather all of your belongings with a gentle smile hanging on his lips and, once more, you swore your heart was melting away over everything he did.

As you walked out of the library together, dipped in a somewhat agonizing silence, you felt his fingers brushing against yours, which caused you to instantly look at him. “Can I hold your hand while we walk?”

Holy moly, what did he just say? Your consciousness was again alarmed at the scenario taking place right in front of your eyes. Okay. Keep calm. Don’t freak out.

“Y-Yeah, I guess.”

He did not waste any time on ending the ridiculously small distance between your hands. However, he did not simply hold your hand in his; he intertwined your fingers together, and gave your hand a light squeeze. His eyes fell upon you, and his gorgeous smile grew wider. You could not help but smile along.

You continued on walking together in silence, the only tangible thing between you and Fred being the tiny circles his thumb drew on your skin. If it were possible to describe your feelings, one would choose the talk about fireworks, or waves violently crashing on rocks on a breathtaking beach.

He unquestionably would be the death of you.

He tugged on your hand once you stopped in a deserted hallway. There was something astounding about the fact that he was able to find a calm and quiet place on Hogwarts, but he had always been like a box full of surprises to you. And he was also really good at knowing all the best places in the castle.

You smiled at him, the riddle he was presenting filling your chest with amusement. “What are we doing here?” All of the terrors you felt earlier returned to you, and you felt like withdrawing. “Wait. We are not here so you can lecture me on kissing, right?! Because, if we are, I would very much like to lea-“

Fred abruptly shushed you, stepping closer to your body and gently pushing your back against a wall. His eyes darted up and down your face, and he grinned cunningly down at you. He was so much taller than you, and the sight of him towering over you was quite intimidating.

“I’m gonna be your kissing instructor.”

Bitch, said what?! Your eyes widened in shock, his fingers reached out to place a lock of hair behind your ear, and your biggest wish was to evaporate. With your head shaking vigorously, and your lips being pressed together in a disappearing line, you exclaimed you would never accept that.

You could never allow physical intimacy to destroy your friendship with Fred Weasley. It was better to have him as a friend than not having him at all.

He found your actions to be absolutely adorable, the desire to consume your innocence growing bigger and bigger each second. “I’m only trying to help you out, y’know. If that Ravenclaw boy is not willing to claim these luscious lips, I sure am.”

Your cheeks erupted in a dark red shade, and you looked away from him, unable to take it for any longer. He was now evidently playing with your feelings, and you did not know how to deal with his attitude.

You were torn apart between accepting his kiss and pushing him away. It could go two ways: you would either kiss him and dismiss all of your feelings and expectations, or you would fall even harder for him. You were not exactly leaning towards neither option.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.” He murmured his confession as he briefly dodged his eyes from your face as well. It was unusual to see the great Fred Weasley embarrassed but, apparently, it was happening right in your face. “So, please, let me be your first kiss. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Your gaze moved back to him and he also had a light pink flush on his cheeks. He looked painfully handsome at that moment, with his freckles splattered all over his skin, and his lips trembling slightly. Your eyes met, and both of you smiled timidly. You were swooning.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated your monosyllabic answer and nodded a bit, mostly to himself, assuring he would finally feel his lips on his. “I’m gonna put my hands on your hips now.”

And he did. Both of his hands ghosted over your body until they reached your hips. He pulled you a little bit closer to his chest, and his scent tickled your nose. You felt like electrical waves were rushing through your entire body, and you wondered how you had managed not to faint.

“Look, do what I’m doing.” Fred parted his lips slightly and tilted his head to his left side a bit, his eyelashes fluttering until he finally closed his eyes. He looked heavenly, but you could never admit that and put yourself into an even more vulnerable position.

An almost inaudible snicker rang in his ears, and he soon opened his eyes and looked at you. You confessed he looked quite silly like that, but he ignored your comment and ordered you to mimic him again. His voice was low and his warm breath hit your face gently. You finally obeyed, feeling all jittery and anxious.

You looked captivating in his eyes, and he was ready to show you how amazing a tad of intimacy could be.

He leaned down, bringing your lips together in an extremely slow brush against each other. “Put your lips like this.” And, a second time, you did as he told you to, copying all of his actions.

It did not take long for him to finally involve your uneasy lips with his own. He started out by giving small pecks onto your skin, but his hunger got too big and he demanded more.

Your small silhouette was pressed even harder to his body, and he touched your lower lip with his tongue, asking for permission to feel more of you. Your attempts to continue moving according to him went on, and you thought it was a good sign he had not stopped you yet.

Once the velvet-feeling of his tongue came in touch with yours, he groaned against your lips, which caused you to use both of your hands to hold onto his robes tightly.

The kiss went on for a few more moments until you and Fred were breathless, and you had to break away to learn how to cope with oxygen again.

It was difficult to find words to talk about whatever had just happened, but you mumbled a shy ‘thank you’, which he replied to with ‘don’t mention it’.

Kissing was not as horrible as you thought it would be. 

And, after all, maybe going to the Yule Ball could be quite nice if you had enough luck to get Fred Weasley to be your date and kiss you again.

[buckyownsmylife]

Them - Chris Evans Smut

The one where Chris is your professor.

Warnings: smut, professor au, reader is a postgrad student, so no underage business, but definitely some age gap, reader is very clear about what she wants here, lots of dirty talk

Chris’ P.O.V.

Looking out of the window of the fancy bistro I had been waiting on, I just couldn’t believe my luck. Y/N, the woman I had been thinking about for the last three months, that one that had made me accept this stupid idea of a blind date to try to get over her, was standing just outside the restaurant, looking from side to side, clearly waiting for someone that was nowhere around. 

I pondered over what to do, weighing the consequences of what I truly wanted, but in the end, I said, “Fuck it,” and jumped out of my chair, explaining to the host that I only needed a minute.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I knew I was grinning from ear to ear, but that was just the effect she had on me. When her eyes widened as she took in who was talking to her, I had to laugh. “What? Not used to seeing me in more casual clothes?” I was convinced her chuckle was enough to end wars. 

“I don’t think that can be considered casual, Professor Evans,” she said, but with the cutest teasing smirk on her face. Right. There was a reason why coming out here to talk to her could possibly bring severe consequences to my life. She was my student, after all, and even though she was pursuing her PhD and we weren’t currently in an academic setting, her politeness served to remind me of the distance that remained between us.

“Well, I’m not sure I could consider what you’re wearing casual either, but I must say, sweetheart… You look beautiful.” I took pride in the blush that spread through her cheeks, making her almost as red as the dress she was currently wearing. Fuck if I didn’t want her desperately.

“Thank you, sir.” I was convinced she knew about the effect those words had in me, but then again, it wasn’t like I could call her out on it. Clearing my throat, I decided to change the subject before I brought more difficulty for my own situation.

“So, what brings you here on this delightful friday evening?” I forced myself to look away from her as I spoke, mostly because I felt like I’d been staring for too long. But I’d happily look at her for as long as possible, if I didn’t fear for what she’d think of me.

“I’m guessing the same thing that brought you here, Mr. Evans.” To my raised eyebrow, she simply responded with a shake of her head, her delightful giggle going straight to my pants. “C’mon, you’re dressed like this, on a friday night, and waiting for someone in a bistro? You’re obviously on a date!”

Well, I was most definitely impressed, but that didn’t serve to distract myself from the disappointment that pierced through me at the realization that she had dressed up so pretty to go out on a date with someone other than me.

��If that’s the case, then where is the lucky gentleman?” That seemed to be the wrong thing to ask, by the way her beautiful face fell.  Immediately, I felt terrible for being responsible for sucking the light out of this woman.

“Oh… I guess he’s not coming. I’ve been waiting for him for at least an hour, it was supposed to be a blind date. My friend thought he’d be perfect for me or something. Guess he didn’t agree, huh?” She tried to chuckle, but the fact that she couldn’t meet my eyes was enough to demonstrate how embarrassed she was by the whole ordeal.

“Sweetheart…” I itched to touch her, to pull her body to mine and comfort her anyway I could, but she continued to avoid my eyes, keeping up with her own monologue almost like she couldn’t physically stop.

“And the worst part is that I can’t stop thinking about how he probably walked in, saw me and decided to go home. God, this is mortifying. Why am I even telling you this?” At that, she finally looked up to find me looking back at her, and whatever it was she identified in my gaze at last made her stop.

“Come eat with me,” I offered, not even thinking about what I was saying, although capable of admitting that it was all I truly wanted. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she wasn’t able to structure a proper sentence, looking up at me with those big bright eyes.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know what to say. I was completely taken by surprise by his invitation, but I couldn’t really say it made me uncomfortable. I wanted nothing more than the chance to spend some time with him, away from the university environment.

It was no secret that he was attractive, of course. I knew that, but it wasn’t because of it that I wanted the chance to share a meal with him. It was for all of the little things I’d managed to learn over the course of our meetings, the bar trivia he liked to share randomly over cups of coffee when it would make more sense if we were sharing a beer. It was the fact that his mind fascinated me, and I’d never met anyone who had captivated me so much, so easily, in such little time.

Even with so little to go off on, he occupied my mind. And perhaps half of the attraction came from the taboo of it all, but I couldn’t deny that it was there. I wanted to get to know him better. I wanted to say yes. Didn’t I deserve it, after such a lousy night?

“We shouldn’t,” I decided to remind us both, but he only smiled, reaching out for my hand. The touch surprised me even more, but I found myself accepting it easily, even smiling as I looked up at him from underneath my eyelashes to see an answering grin in his handsome face.

“No one has to know. Come on.” He tugged me in the direction of the restaurant he was in, apparently, some place definitely fancier than where my date was supposed to happen, and with a curt nod towards the greeter, he quickly took me to the table he’d been occupying before pulling the chair for me.

Such a simple gesture, not at all romantic, really, but it sent butterflies all over my stomach, and I bit my lip to stop the giddy giggle that wanted to break free. “Thank you,” I recognized, and he only flashed me another perfect smile in return.

“It’s my pleasure. Would you like some wine?” He gestured for the waiter, his eyes barely leaving mine before returning to me again. “It’s okay if you don’t. Choose whatever you want, I’m usually more of a beer guy myself, but with this being an italian restaurant and all…”

I waved his fears away, rejecting the menu the waiter was offering and pointing to the glass of wine that was sitting in front of Chris. “I’ll just have the same, please.” The waiter nodded, already turning to grab me a glass when my professor called him over again.

“Wait! Just bring us the bottle, would you?” I raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk making its way into my face. If there was one thing I had already learned about the man I was about to have dinner with, was that he loved to be teased.

“Planning on getting me drunk, professor? That’s not the right way to keep me quiet.” His eyes grew big at first, before he caught on to the teasing nature of my comments, and then he laughed, a hand going over his chest as he threw his head back and closed his eyes, fully in the moment.

Chris’ P.O.V.

Fuck, this was exactly what I’d hoped for when I took the chance and invited her over here. She was just so damn *funny. I was thrilled to have this opportunity to spend some quality time with her.

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart. I really don’t want to keep you quiet.” Shit. It was only after it was out in the open, and her eyebrows were raised high, that I realized just how weird that sounded, given the context. “I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was, I really want to hear you.”

By now, she was pressing her lips tightly, clearly trying not to laugh about my awkwardness, so I saved her the trouble by breaking into a fit of laughter myself. “That’s okay, Professor Evans. If it makes you feel any better, I really want to hear you too.”

… Was she flirting with me? The idea caught me by surprise and sent a jolt of thrill up my body, making me sit up straighter in the restaurant’s chair. I pressed my lips tightly together in an effort to suppress my laugh, and looked up at her from under my eyelashes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she teased, and it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

“Why not?”

“It makes me nervous.” The answer surprised me. I never considered that I could affect her in any way, much less that one, and so I found myself leaning in her direction, my elbows on the table so I could talk more quietly and she could still hear me.

“Why are you nervous? It’s just me. We’ve been alone in smaller environments than this one,” I reminded her, watching with delight as she giggled but avoided my eyes, opting instead to play with the glass of wine that had by now been delivered to us. I knew she was thinking about the tiny office we shared and all the times we had to ignore this sexual tension as it filled the air between us. When her eyes met mine, the mischievous glint in them was unmissable, and so I braced myself for her answer, knowing it would definitely be something as out of the ordinary as herself.

“Yes…” She started, leaning closer to me and lowering her voice, and while I was sure I didn’t want to miss one single word of what she was saying, it was impossible not to look down at how her breasts threatened to spill from her dress. “But this time it’s harder to ignore just how much I want your cock down my throat.”

I was stunned to silence for a minute, staring back at her with my mouth opened as I felt my cock unmistakably harden at her directness. This was so different from the reserved and polite woman I had to work with at the university, and if that one was already enticing, I had no words to describe the minx that stared back at me with deviousness in her eyes.

“Well, now I feel bad,” I settled on saying, eyes dropping to her cleavage before meeting hers again, making sure she saw just how hypnotized by her body I was. “And here I’ve been, picturing you on your knees all this time.”

I *knew she was hot and bothered by my comment, it was pretty obvious by the way she fidgeted in her seat, squeezing her thighs together, I was certain. There was nothing I wanted more than taking her away from here, and just… well… *take her. Preferably more than once, but it didn’t even have to be on a bed. I wasn’t sure I’d hold back enough to get her close to one, even. Especially when she stepped it up a notch, her heeled foot caressing my leg under the table as she whispered, “I think I made a smart choice when I decided to wear this dress tonight.”

Inevitably, my eyes fell to her breasts once more. It was obvious that I agreed, but still, I licked my lips to be able to agree, “Yes, I’m very fond of it as well.” The corners of her lips twisted up, a clear indication that I’d fallen right onto her trap.

“I’m glad you liked the choice. Wanna know why I’m happy I ran into you while wearing it?” I just nodded, dry swallowing at the thought of what she was about to say. “Because I can’t wear anything underneath it.”

My knuckles turned white as I held onto the edge of the table, practically urging myself not to leap out of my seat. “Careful, sweetheart…” I tried to warn, the months of restraint and tension taking a toll out of my patience and control. “You should think about what you’re saying. *Pay attention to what you’re asking of me. I’m not exactly great at resisting something that I want. You have to be sure,” I murmured, eyes never leaving hers as I watched her breathing grow more laboured.

She let the silence simmer the anticipation between us, until I felt like *I was about to collapse.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“I think I’ve made my desires clear.”

That was all it took for him to dart out of the chair, fishing out his wallet and throwing some bills on top of the table before reaching for my hand. “Come.”

I followed easily, body buzzing with excitement as I accepted this first touch from a man I believed to be unreachable only a few hours before.

Nothing was said as he directed me towards his car. Once inside, I took advantage of the few seconds it took for him to reach his own door and took a deep breath, both to calm my nerves and take in the delicious scent of the familiar cologne that seemed to be ingrained in the vehicle. How many days had I spent clenching my thighs as I tried to focus on my research because his scent took over our tiny office? Too many to count. But now he was right here, ready and willing to take care of the mess he made of me.

A shiver went through my body when he finally made his way inside the car, and instead of turning on the engine, fixated his gaze on me. It was heavy with lust and primal need, that much I could recognize - mostly because I knew those two feelings all too well when it came to him.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” It wasn’t a question, and immediately after he was done speaking I was already leaning over to meet him halfway. 

Chris’ kiss was nothing like I expected it to be. While I imagined a gentle lover, he was more on the eager, almost desperate side. I was surprised how much I liked it that way. He took control of our kiss so easily, it made me feel small and under his spell. Like I’d do anything he wanted me to, just as long as he kept devouring me like this.

I lost myself to the kiss, to *him, to the taste of wine and something that was undeniably just him, but then a hand fell on my lap and I gasped, instinctively opening my legs to feel more of his touch. It made him grin, but he didn’t stop kissing me, instead cradling my face between his hands before returning one of them to the spot that was throbbing for him.

“I just really need to feel you, only for a second,” he whispered against my lips, and I could only nod, too lost in his eyes to care about the implications of his words. “Maybe if I have your taste on my lips I’ll feel motivated enough to drive all the way home, instead of just taking you right here.”

Needless to say, paired with two of his fingers curling inside of me before they were gone and wrapped by his lips, the fires of desire had grown to such heights I could no longer control them. “Hmm… Delicious,” he hummed, dark eyes opening to meet mine only for a second before he was turning the engine on. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Chris’ P.O.V.

The second we were inside my apartment, I had to unbuckle my belt and curl my fist around my member - that’s how badly it hurt from the lack of attention. At least I wasn’t the only one desperate to get things going, her dress was on the floor just as I sat back on the couch, moaning both at the feeling of my jerking motions and the sight of her naked body.

“Come here, Miss. Y/L/N,” I instructed, beckoning her over while keeping my other hand occupied with my cock. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Join me.” She didn’t seem to need any further invitation, small frame quickly making her way over to where I was sitting before she dropped to her knees in front of me, right between my thighs that she held to support herself.

“God, you’re sexy.” She smiled up at me from underneath her eyelashes, hands reaching out to take my member from me before she began to lick at my already weeping head, and I had to take a deep breath in order to control myself. “Fuck.”

She was a tease, alright - but that much I knew, already. Instead of immediately starting to suck me off, she opted to get acquainted with the taste of my cock by licking it like a damn ice cream cone, until every inch of it was wrapped in a coat of her saliva and I was trembling underneath her attentions, hands curled into fists in an effort to let her keep her own pace but desperately wanting to gag her on me.

“You taste so good,” she teased, but it did sound more like an absentminded comment. It was just my need that made me believe she was doing it on purpose, trying to get me to break, but I wouldn’t let her win.

“Put it in your mouth, then. I promise I’ll give you more to taste.” If I had been worried I’d scare her away with how open I was about what I wanted, the smirk she gave me assured me it was well received, just as the way she finally wrapped her perfect lips around the head of my cock, tongue swirling over it briefly before starting to slowly suck more of it.

“Shit, yeah. Just like that. Swallow that cock, darling.” She did just so, all the while making sure to keep eye contact with me, which only added fuel to the desire I felt for her. I knew I couldn’t resist for too long, so I reveled in the feeling of her warm mouth, the sloppy blowjob easily the best I’d ever had, before I pulled her to me, making her climb my lap so I could fill my hands with her fantastic ass.

“God, I’ve dreamt about this ass,” I groaned, palming it and using it to rub her pussy over my member, that twitched at the slight contact, making us both gasp. “And this pussy…” the connection was obvious. Of course I’d imagined it too, but the little mynx wanted to hear it for herself.

“Did you think about it at night?” She asked, taking control of the motions I could no longer direct as she rubbed her wet cunt over my member, making me growl on her ear.

“At night, in class…” Maybe I should have felt embarrassed to admit it, but as it were, I didn’t. I couldn’t, not when it was the truth, and not when she was right here, ready to sink down on my cock, looking at me with those sinful eyes. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She bit down on her lower lip to stop the grin from taking over her face, I could see that, but it didn’t stop mine as I watched her rub the head of my member between her lips before finally starting to sink down on it.

“Fuck!” My head fell back on the couch, and I had to hold on her hips to keep control of myself, but still, she was being too slow. Opening my eyes, I saw by the smirk on her lips it was purely to tease me, but two could play at this game. 

“Keep going,” I ordered, slapping her ass before sinking my fingers on it again, for good measure. She gasped, momentarily losing control and falling further down, which was really all I needed to fuck up into her until I bottomed out.

“God, you’re so big!” She really did know how to get a man going.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Once I relinquished the control to him, there was really nothing else I could do but to hold on tight and enjoy the ride. He fucked me like he was trying to cherish every single second of this act we were sharing, probably conscious that we’d never be able to do this again.

“Such a fucking great pussy,” he groaned, fingers now probably bruising my skin as he used his grip on my hips to force my movements to match his. “I bet I can make you even louder.”

I hadn’t even realized I was screaming until he said that, feet raising to the sofa so he could find even more grip to fuck me silly. “Hold tight, sweetheart.” My hands slipped from his shoulders to the back of his neck, as I tried to keep my chest glued to his despite the brutality of his movements.

It didn’t take long for his thrusts to lose their rhythm, and I was dancing on the edge of my own orgasm too, watching a single drop of sweat make its way from his hairline until his jaw, where I leaned down to collect it with my tongue.

“Fuck.” His eyes met mine, holding my gaze hostage as the next words that fell from his lips brought me to my release. “Oh God, please tell me you’ll be mine. I need to know I’ll be able to have you like this whenever I want. Please.”

The aftershocks of my orgasm, paired with the way my pussy clenched around his member, milking his own release, had him cumming as hard as I had, eyes closed tightly and beautiful mouth hanging open as I tried to catch my breath and not lose the show at the same time.

“Do you mean it?” I had to ask, once both of us were able to speak again, still tightly embraced and deeply connected. I could feel his cum slowly seeping out of me and into his own lap.

“Of course.” His eyes searched mine for any inkling of my own feelings in regards to the revelation of his. “You’re worth the trouble it’ll be trying to keep this under wraps. Besides, Professor Stan had mentioned he’d like to seduce you, and I can’t imagine having to watch you be with another man.”

A giggle and a kiss sealed the deal, but we renegotiated the terms of our agreement a dozen of times before finally falling asleep wrapped in each other’s embrace. Thank God I was stood up today.

[imaginedxlan]

loverboy (neville longbottom)

a/n: i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, i am a SIMP for neville longbottom. also yall...  one away from 1k, how’d that happen? you guys rock my socks and i love you the absolutely most! sorry this one is kind of short i just liked the concept.

you’ve been friends with neville longbottom since first year. becoming comfortable with the shy boy and his frog over the years, you began calling him a nickname that makes him wish you would see him as anything other than your best friend.

warnings: zero baby just pure fluff

neville doesn’t open up to just anyone. after years of being shut down in every conversation, left out of nearly every house activity, he’s built a wall to protect himself from the people of hogwarts who constantly make him feel less than. you’re one of the lucky ones. you’ve seen beyond his high walls, he’s opened up to you about his parents, his insecurities and eventually pulled him out of his shell to talk about girls with you.

the nickname started when he told you about his small crush on luna lovegood. he seemed so entranced by her, he kissed the ground he walked on. once you caught on to his pining, you’ve called him loverboy ever since. it’s not to be mean or tease him, you actually admired how much he devoted his time to thinking about her.

what you didn’t know, however, is that it was never luna lovegood he was talking about. when he would describe his feelings for luna her name was only a placeholder for yours. he’d loved you since the moment he laid eyes on you, thinking even your crooked teeth, frizzy haired eleven year old self was the most beautiful creature he’d ever see.

“good morning loverboy,” you call sweetly as you sit next to the dark haired boy in potions class. you never found this class particularly interesting, but being able to sit next to neville made it at least slightly more fun. his heart aches at the nickname, trying to conceal the blush that is creeping on his cheeks. “sleep well?”

“hardly,” he replies, still keeping up his façade. “harry talks in his sleep all through the night. keeps me and trevor awake for hours.”

you smile at the mention of his beloved frog. “oh my dear trevor! how is my favorite amphibian?”

neville can’t contain his smile or his heart that hammering in his chest. you’re the only person who’s ever shown interest in the things he likes, the things he goes on and on about for hours. you’ve never once stopped him from going off on a tangent about his mimbulus mimbletonia or how he’s lost trevor for the tenth time that week. you’ve never rolled your eyes when he comes to sit with you in the library. you’ve never shied away from sitting next to him in herbology though many students find his chiming in rather annoying.

“he’s good,” he replies, trying to stop himself from gazing at you for too long. “i think he misses you.”

you laugh at his response, you really do love that frog. “you better make sure i’m not replaced as trevor’s favorite girl when you finally make a move on luna,” you tease but his heart drops. he knows it’s only a joke but he can’t imagine loving anyone other than you. “if i’m losing one of my loverboys i don’t think my heart could take losing the other as well.”

except you could never lose him. he can’t think of a time when his heart would belong to anyone else. he couldn’t say the same for you. as much as he wants to be around you and knows the nickname isn’t meant to make him sad, it only reminds him of the fact that he’ll never truly be your loverboy. the time will come when you go for a weasley or maybe even that ravenclaw boy you’ve talked about in defends against the dark arts with you and neville isn’t quite sure his heart will survive it.

as professor snape opened his book at the front of the class, the class quieted down. veritaserum. you had heard about the potion, mostly from the weasley twins slipping it in their younger brother’s drink once or twice, but you’d never used it. neville begins to fidget nervously beside you, and you think you know why. privacy has always been very important to the boy and something forcing him to talk about his deepest darkest fears or worse, his parents, is probably eating away at him.

you’re wrong. he’s so nervous because he’s afraid he’ll slip up if he takes it and someone will accidentally ask him about you. he won’t be able to keep his secret anymore.

“s’alright nev,” you whisper to him, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it slightly. an act of intended comfort made him nauseous. “i won’t let anyone pull any secrets from my loverboy, promise.”

you give him a sweet smile which only makes his heart race more. you’re so beautiful, even without the potion he could’ve let that thought slip to you if he wasn’t too careful. as class goes on, he thanks his lucky stars he isn’t chosen for the demonstration. watching you brew the potion to perfection surely would have made it difficult for him to keep back all the feelings he has for you.

later in the evening, however, he did not get so lucky. the twins somehow convinced seamus and dean to slip a few drops of the potion they’d learned to make that morning into neville’s pumpkin juice at dinner. you didn’t notice or surely you would have taken it from them and scolded them for picking on the boy, but you were to engrossed in a conversation with hermione to catch it. neville almost immediately realizes what’s happened when seamus begins asking him questions.

“how your feeling, longbottom?”

“tired, honestly kind of sweaty, really think i need a shower after dinner,” he says before he can stop himself, he smacks his hand to him mouth and his cheeks go red. dean and seamus burst out laughing making all of you turn to the three of them.

“sweaty? why would you possibly be sweaty neville?” dean continues the interrogation.

“been nervous all day, especially in potions. couldn’t get my mind off the stupid veritaserum and if anyone would ask me about y/n,” neville replies with his cheeks turning more red by the minute. you now had your full attention in the boy and he couldn’t stop the word vomit spilling from his lips. “you should have seen her, she brewed the potion perfectly. she’s so smart. godric and beautiful, i-”

you immediately stop him by smacking your own hand to his mouth. “merlin’s sake what did the two of you do?”

dean and seamus have a cheeky grin spread across their lips. “fred and george gave us veritaserum to put in his juice, didn’t think this would happen.”

without a second thought you pull your best friend from the table and out of the great hall to spare him of any more embarrassment he would have to endure. neville follows you blindly, grateful that you didn’t sit there and start laughing at him. when you get to the common room it’s empty, everyone being at dinner. you pull him to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace, he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you look in the glowing flame.

“are you okay?” you ask, pulling your hand from his to look into his eyes. “i’m sorry they did that nev, you didn’t deserve that.”

“i’m more than okay,” he replies with a lazy grin on his face before switching back to his stone cold face full of nerves. “i like it when we’re by ourselves, wish it happened more often.”

“what do you mean, loverboy?”

“i wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he snaps but immediately regrets his tone. “not if you don’t mean it.”

“what are you on about? i mean it.”

“not in the way i want you to mean it...”

you’re trying to wrap you’re mind around what’s happening. sure you and neville have always been close and you compliment eachother here and there but this is different. you don’t want to take advantage of him, not when he’ll tell you everything you want to know while you can sit back and enjoy the show. you swiftly get up and tell him you’ll be right back. he sits on the couch confused as he watches you run out of the room. you make it to the great hall and everyone is looking at you as if you’ve gotten answers out of him that they’d want to know but you ignore him. you lift the tainted cup that neville had drank out of just minutes ago and take a swig.

“y/n!” hermione shrieks and you swallow the liquid. “what do you think you’re doing!”

“getting answers.” you say simply before running out of the room. you don’t feel any different, maybe it hadn’t worked. once you reach the common room again neville is exactly where you left him. “back.”

“what’d you do?”

“i drank the veritserum too,” you tell him and his eyes go wide. “this is going to be a fair conversation.”

neville swallows the lump in his throat at the thought of the two of you being completely honest with each other. he’s partly afraid the truth he’s about to hear is that you only want to be his friend, or that him confessing his feeling for you will only push you away. but there’s another part of him that’s hopeful, you took the veritaserum so this would be “fair,” that has to mean something.

“what were you doing to say when i stopped you earlier?” you ask him. “you said ‘i’ but i stopped you.”

he tries his best to push down the answer but it keeps making its way up his throat. “i was going to say i couldn’t keep my eyes off you all class.”

blush creeps onto your cheeks but you’re not certain why. you noticed him looking at you in potions but you assumed he was trying to understand how to make the potion.

“you’re turn.”

he thinks for a while, unsure of what he should ask you. “do you like matthew, the boy you talk about in ravenclaw, like like him?”

“i like him as a friend, nothing else,” you say back, your heart beginning to race. “do you like luna?”

“i never did, i like someone else.” he answers. you wish it was your turn again, you want to ask him who, part of you knows he’s going to say you given what you’ve learned this evening. you reach out to hold his hand and his touch makes your skin burn. “have you ever thought of us as more than friends?”

you want to say yes, you know it the answer he wants to hear, but it’s not the truth. you can’t lie to him even if you wanted to. before this moment, you only thought of him as a friend. not because you dislike him or think he’s unattractive, it’s just all he’s ever been to you. you take a deep breath and turn your eyes down to the floor.

“honestly, no,” you say back, neville swears he can hear his heart break within him rib cage. his heart burns at your response. he’s gotten his answer. “when did you start to think of me as more than a friend.”

he never came out and said he had feelings for you, but you’ve connected the dots. everything he’s answered, all the questions he’s asked points to him looking at you as more than just his friend. you’re not sure how to feel about it.

“first year, the minute you spoke to me i couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful girl i’d ever seen, i still do, ” his words make your heart burst. you turn your head to meet his eyes again. they’re burning into you’re gaze. “what is it about me that’s made you only think of me as a friend, do you think i’m ugly?”

“godric no!” you say a bit too quickly for your own liking. “i never thought of you that way because that’s all we ever were neville, friends. i noticed how handsome you were last year, the long hair suited you, but i think you look nice any way you are. i had a dream about you at the christmas last year, i think that’s when i noticed how handsome you were. i guess i just never entertained the thought because you never gave me the impression you wanted anything more than this.”

he feels less shattered, less like you just ripped his heart out with your bare hands. hearing that you think he’s handsome sent butterflies to stomach. he’s quiet and so are you.

“do you want to stop?”

“no, i have another question,” he replies, pulling his hands from yours and backing away from you. you miss his touch already. maybe you did like him a little more than you thought. he braces himself for what’s about to come out of his mouth, for your reaction to what’s about to come out of his mouth. “if i asked to kiss you would you say no?”

“no.” you tell him quietly, if you thought your heart couldn’t pound any faster, it did. it feels like it’s about to jump from your chest. “do you want to kiss me?”

“merlin yes,” he almost whispers. he doesn’t move from his spot, eyes avoiding yours at all costs. always being the braver of the two of you, you take matters into your own hands. you pull yourself closer to him and rest your hand upon his cheek, forcing him to make eye contact with you again. you suck in a breath, the closest the two of you had ever been. “i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“i know.”

you lean forward only a few centimeters until your lips are barely touching. you hesitate only because you know after this moment you can’t go back to being just friends again, this is going to change everything. even so, there’s like a magnetic pull between you too, you’re craving the feeling of his lips against yours.

while still deep in your thought and hesitations, your eyes drilled shut as you try and decide what to do, you feel his lips press against yours and you melt. it’s better than either of you could have imagined. while neville had be dreaming of this moment for six years, you had only just begun thinking about him in this way minutes ago. you place your free hand on the side of his neck and he places his on the small of your back, pulling you closer into him. You move yourself so that your sat on top of his thighs, attempting to expel any space between the two of you. his hands rest on your hips just before you pull away from him to catch your breath. his eyes flicker between yours, looking for an answer to what you’re feeling.

“i’m sorry,” he says sheepishly, thinking the worst. “do you want to stop? we can pretend this never happened.”

“i never want to stop.”

you connect your lips with his again, slinging your arms around his neck to feel the closeness again. you know he’s never done anything like this before, he’s probably nervous out of his mind, so you attempt to ease his worries by guiding his actions. in just the few minutes you’ve spent with your lips on his, you’ve because obsessed with the feeling. you can hear how heavily he’s breathing as his hand moves from your side to be entangled in your hair. you can’t help but smile, this moment is pure bliss.

you eventually pull away from each other, you decide it’s best to keep this night to just his first kiss. you lean forward and plant a soft kiss to the side of his neck before burying your face in the soft skin. eventually his breath evens out, and he moves his arms to wrap around you.

“what happens now?” he asks, hoping the veritaserum can give him some sort of clear view into your brain.

“i don’t know,” you reply, it’s honest, you have no idea what happens from here on out. “what do you want to happen?”

“i want to kiss you like that a million more times,” he breathes out which makes you laugh into his neck. looks like ther veritaserum hasn’t worn off just yet. “can we just sit here for a minute so we don’t have to think about what’s gonna come?”

“you read my mind, loverboy.”

[angelkurenai]

Imagine having a crush on Charlie Hunnam and Dean, your bodyguard, getting extremely jealous when, during an interview, you can’t stop flirting with the man who is also there as a guest.

“You know, all jokes aside, you seem a lot more calm this time. You're usually stressed out to go on interviews, no matter the host.” Dean remarked, his eyes taking in your figure.

Seriously, why don't you spread your legs a little more, I didn't quiet get the message yet. you almost said, and you most certainly thought, but only bit the inside of your cheek and looked away from Dean.

Your bodyguard leaned casually against his seat, knowing fully well just how distracting he was to you like that but not giving a damn. The suit did wonders, not that he needed it to. Though you had a growing suspicion he was well aware of it and was doing it on purpose just to get you back for everything you'd put him through.

“Well, for one I've had time to relax.” you shrugged, looking away, finding it easier to speak when you weren't looking at him “And I did plenty of it, to the point I'm looking forward to get back on the spotlight. Maybe you should try some of that? You are more stressed tonight.”

“You mean vacation?” he raised an eyebrow as you hummed.

“The kind of vacation that's meant to make me relax?” another questioned which you nodded your head at.

“Oh that kind of vacation, I see. So-” he paused, giving you a look “Not the kind of vacation that's a torture for me, filled with ice-cold showers and morning shots of whiskey because you're walking around in your bikini all day long and refuse to change unless it involves dressing down more? That kind of vacation?” he paused, eyebrow raised as he expected an answer to that before adding “Mind your own business.” he muttered, voice deeper as he glanced at the driver who had been not-so-subtly listening in.

“I-” you parted your lips to answer but ended up shrugging anyway “Guilty. But also, sorry not sorry. Besides, that's not the point here. I mean it, you could really use some vacation. Lately it seems that whenever I have an interview you're more stressed than me and my manager combined.”

“Do I? I wonder what the reason might be. Oh maybe it's the fact that last time I remember, you took part in a game that involved buckets of water being poured on you while wearing a white dress and what I rather vividly remember very little coverage underneath. And you-” he pointed a finger at the driver “If you dare google that, you're fired. Trust me I will know.”

“Yes, sir. I didn't hear a thing, sir.” the driver said with almost wide eyes, knowing fully well not to challenge Dean. It didn't matter how, he wasn't going to risk it.

Meanwhile, all you could do was roll your eyes “It was not buckets, only glasses of water. We were playing water war and just because you were giving me looks all night, I lost and Jimmy won. So yes, I blame you for that. Besides, I was wearing underwear, alright?”

“At this point I really wish you weren't. Wouldn't have been as... traumatizing.” he struggled a bit to say the word because if he really used the one he felt like, the one he wanted to, then he didn't know if you'd make it to the studio. But given the snort the driver gave then it couldn't be more wrong of a choice for a word.

“Social media didn't see it that way, as far as I remember. Including several celebrities I know of.” you shrugged, smirking “I don't know about you, I had plenty of fun.”

“And I had plenty of heart-attacks.” he muttered instead, mostly to himself.

“Either way, you don't have to sweat it this time. Graham doesn't have any sort of games, not of that kind anyway.” you brushed him off “Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about. Nothing my ass. Son of a-” he sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face.

At this point he would certainly take all the water the ocean had to offer, instead of whatever that fancy colored liquid that sat in the glass on your hand was. A glass you hadn't missed the opportunity to refill at least twice so far. And while that on it's own wasn't such a bad thing, combine it with a ridiculously attractive man who happened to be your celebrity crush – as you never failed, not for a second, to point out to Dean every time you got the chance – and a lack of inhibition and you had the perfect recipe for a catastrophe. Or Dean's death, whichever came first.

“So as you can imagine, now there's a bit of a problem there now. Mostly whenever I'm on a flight and what not.” Charlie explain as Graham nodded his head and you looked at him with a concerned frown.

“But it's not like it's left a problem with your hearing in general, right? You- you can hear well from that side of-” Graham started speaking.

“Well, generally speaking I can- I'm sorry what?” but as he was talking, Charlie started speaking at the same time only to pause and ask the question back instead, which made all of you burst into laughter.

“Wait- hey you!”

“Ah gotcha huh?” he grinned, his smile only getting brighter when he glanced in your direction, your giggles a tad louder and more easy thanks to the alcohol in your system. It was exactly that which had Dean on edge. One of the many signs that the alcohol was doing its job.

Much like the easy and inviting smiles. Much like the way you'd bite your lower lip at times, when he spoke. Much like, even when you were speaking, instead of looking at the host, your eyes would constantly jump on the man next to you on the couch. Much like when you laughed at something funny he said, your hand would rest on his shoulder or, worse, when it rested on his thigh. And if that wasn't driving Dean mad as it was already, when the actor only seemed to relax under your touch and lean in closer, it felt like he could only see red and that the tie around his neck was choking him. He was about to loosen it only to remember he had done that long ago. If there weren't people there, he'd have long ago jumped from his seat and started pacing around like a lion in a cage. His jumping leg was certainly proof of that, what with all of his twitching. He huffed, shaking his head before he narrowed his eyes at the scene before him. Every little action that unfolded before his eyes was proof of why he hated not being able to intervene when you had a little too much to drink.

“Territorial much, aren't we Deano?”

He remembered you asking with a smirk on your lips, which had very quickly and easily turned into a grin - if not a slightly drunken one - when you'd clearly seen the way his eyes had only darkened and his jaw, clenched and all, had twitched. The look he had given you was of a warning one, telling you not to test him further but after a party where you've had a little too much too drink and even more to flirt, with all those actors and celebrities around, you only saw it as a challenge. He knew real well he was being territorial, he didn't need you to ask. He had nearly punched a guy when he got his hands on you, and it was expected after he had been fuming in the corner and watching like a hawk when said hands lowered even further down your back and you leaned into him all giggling and touching. He was bound to explode and it came as no surprise that, even drunk, you would take notice of it and use it to your advantage. Granted, he couldn't pin you on the wall and mark you down nor slam you against the bathroom wall and have his way with you, but he could come up with ways to get in the way.

Not that the alcohol seemed necessary anyway. Snapping back to reality, the scene before him verified his thoughts. The way the man was looking at you, his undivided attention all yours, his eyes on you at all times and, even worse, his lingering touches could have very easily made you fall into his orbit without even a single drink needed.

“And here I thought that walking away with a bruise or two from the set of Marvel was too much. Oh how I love green screen now!” you laughed “I mean I've had several injuries before, but most of the time they're far too stupid to talk about. Besides, I always look one step away from total meltdown doesn't make much of a difference if you add an injury or two to the case, so- Cheers to that!”

Your words, as you raised your glass, earned a laugh from everyone around you, Graham not missing the opportunity to speak “See? That's exactly why she is my favorite guest! This is what everyone now calls is a total mood!”

The man next to you, who threw his head back and then looked at you with absolute adoration written all over his face “Oh I doubt that even at your worst you could look anything short of perfect, darling. In fact I feel like I should have received a warning, to make sure I was more properly dressed or something. I didn't know I'd be sitting right next to an angel tonight.” his accent wasn't making things easier as Dean could practically see you swoon.

“Oh, look who's talking. Please, don't have a single doubt Mr Hunnam, I can't take my eyes off you tonight!” you smiled, or more like smirked, at Charlie, whose smile only got bigger when he heard your words.

“Now it's my turn to blush, please.” he offered you a smile which you could only describe as adorable, if not irresistible given how you bit your lower lip “I mean, I'd say it's just me but I believe that everyone will agree when I say that I don't think there would be a single injury that can take from the beauty sitting next to me right now.”

“Why you flatter me so much, Charlie, but you say that only because you're too good and because you haven't seen me in the morning.” you pointed out, loving to see him raise an eyebrow “The whole rise and shine is the exact opposite of what I do. One, because I don't rise, I could stay in bed all day long, and two, because I can only shine as much as a black hole does.”

“While I could definitely argue with you on that one, dear, I'll only say that it's impossible to believe. I don't doubt for a second that you're any less beautiful. That could be just my imagination, sure, because I have no personal opinion or experience but-” he shrugged while the audience cheered for him and you laughed behind your hand, and the man lowered his head in slight embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck “Besides-” he cleared his throat “In all seriousness, now, there is nothing wrong wanting to stay in bed till late.”

“And even more when there's good company for cuddles, right?” you raised a suggestive eyebrow at him, making him bite his lip in return as he lowered his head while laughing “Besides, I am never one to deny a man his chance at seeing how I really am in the morning.” you shrugged not in the least bit innocently, because Dean knew that look and the whole body posture you had and it had him gritting his teeth, before the audience cheered even more loudly at you “For- You guys! For research purposes, clearly. So that Charlie can testify that I am indeed the... human equivalent of a black hole in the morning! That's all.”

Your giggles could barely be heard as the audience clapped once more, some of them laughing as well. You instead bit your lip before taking another sip of your drink, Charlie doing the same.

As if by some miracle, or at least for Dean, this time it was Graham who spoke up “Why, for some reason, I feel like I am third-wheeling here? And I thought it was my show. I feel like you won't even realize it if I'm gone.”

“No Graham, of course not!” you reassured him with a smile “You know you're my favorite host! You're the star of this show, the one that makes the rest of us shine and bring out the best in us! The one who makes us laugh and have the time of our lives in the show! The one who makes us look forward to this! The one-” you paused , snickering as you glanced at Charlie “Boy am I drunk already?”

Everyone along with Graham, laughed. Well, everyone except for Dean, who looked like he was going to pounce any given second now, especially with how his arm was casually resting on the back of the couch, almost over your shoulders “It's alright, I think we all realised it by the second complement in a row.”

“Well, at least let's all be honest. It's at least slightly less embarrassing than me recounting mildly gross if not horrifying stories of all the injuries and infections I've gotten. Which, thank you, by the way, for, Graham. It's-” Charlie paused, nodding his head “Exactly as I pictured spending my night. Speaking about the times I got a moth in my ear and ran down a forest naked, while such a lovely lady is sitting next to me.”

“Oh trust the lady, she is very much enjoying the conversation, worry not!” you giggled and he grinned, finally resting his arm on your shoulders and giving you a squeeze.

“You're mostly welcome!” Graham laughed “But, speaking of- I noticed this and I wanted to ask you myself, this seems like a reoccurring pattern with you Charlie, isn't it? Like, I always hear you saying that you got sick this or the other way and you- correct me if I'm wrong, but you are someone who takes pride in their personal hygiene.”

“I- I'm a germaphobe, you can go ahead and say it.” he laughed “Yes, it's one way to describe it. Of course I- I do take pride in my personal hygiene but I do think it's exactly that which gets me. You know how these kinds of things end up turning against you? Well, yeah, that's what happens with me. I get sick all the time.”

“There is a saying about that, isn't it? I think I've heard it somewhere but I can't, for the life of me, remember it right now.” you mumbled with a deep frown.

“Oh yeah, you attract the most that which you fear the most.”

“Ah, yes! Yes.” you nodded your head, pausing only half a second before looking back up at nobody in particular “Oh how I fear Charlie Hunnam!”

And that was all it took for the crowd to erupt into cheers and for Dean to groan as he let his head fall into his hands. There was no need to look any more, the way the actor's eyebrows rose in interest and a smile spread on his face. He knew what was to follow, and he didn't mean just the interview, and that meant he had to prepare himself for whatever he had to do to keep and... if need be, maybe finally, mark his territory. But unlike any other time, he knew, it wouldn't be as easy.

“You- what? You guys! I was only... I'm just saying what every lady and gent here is thinking, that's all. Me? I'm just more or less... drunk. Drunk more than I initially assumed.” you laughed, shaking your head despite your burning face “Aah Graham, how I hate you.” you gave a sweet smile to the host and friend of yours as all he did was laugh at your misery.

“Ah Graham, how I love you.” Charlie said, laughing “Can we-” he looked away and around at the crew as he lifted his glass “Can we get come more of that here? Lovely drink. Truly lovely.”

“Lovely night.” Dean grumbled to himself, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, eyes hard as he glared at the man before him and next to you. But truth was he knew that it was only the beginning of the night if not the beginning of a very long and tiring journey, which he didn't know if he'd make it through. Why?

Because as if on cue, as if he'd read Dean's thoughts, Charlie's eyes met his. The smile vanished from his lips for barely a few seconds, making Dean straighten his back and narrow his eyes at him. Because he'd, maybe, finally met his match. That's why.

[bubblegumbeech]

What use is a Memory Compared to a Future?

Day 1 Dannymay: Memory

 He woke up slowly, feeling like an empty pool of water catching rain for the first time. His thoughts were short, tiny little things pittering and pattering around in his mind. His senses came back to him in fragments, the feeling of cold stone solid against him and surrounding his body entirely, an electric unrecognizable smell mixing with the faint scent of death and decay, then sound.

 “Pariah?” a voice said. It was a nice voice, low and deep with a touch of gravel. He liked listening to it.

 “By all means, you can stay in the sarcophagus, if you wish.”

 Was he in a sarcophagus? He cracked open one of his eyes. The other simply twitched and sent a twinge of pain across his face. It took a moment for the image before him to come into focus.

 When it did, what he saw was breathtaking.

 Ruby red eyes and smooth blue skin hidden under a deep purple cowl framing the most beautiful face he had ever seen. At least, he couldn’t imagine ever seeing a face quite as beautiful as this one. If features like this were common then he would probably greatly enjoy his existence surrounded by them.

 “Ah,” the beautiful stranger with the beautiful voice spoke, “you’re awake. I was beginning to worry.”

 The stranger’s voice was dry, and held a touch of familiarity that he filed away as important for later. It was likely that something was amiss, if the stranger knew him while      he     did not yet know himself.

 He wet his lips and tried to speak, his voice rough with disuse, “you needn’t lie.”

 It had been a lie, or at the very least, it had not been the full truth, that this stranger worried about him. It was likely a quip, a sarcastic comment meant to rile him, and Pariah felt it best to respond in kind. The last thing he would ever admit to was any kind of vulnerability, especially in front of something so seemingly perfect.

 His eyes caught on the scar that snaked its way through the stranger’s eye and along his cheek. It was the same eye that refused to open for him and he wondered if there was a connection. A history that was held out of his reach. And then he wondered exactly why he seemed to lack any memory or solid knowledge at all.

 The first step, of course, would be figuring out who he was. The next would be figuring out where he was, and then figuring out this stranger, and what relationship they might have had. Whether he needed to do something to drag this handsome stranger closer to him.

 The stranger scoffed, “I see you haven’t changed much, Pariah. Too much to expect you to believe someone might have anything resembling affection for you-“

 “Do you?” he asked, testing the name Pariah in his mind. It fit surprisingly well, clicked into place and was pleasant to hear spoken in the stranger’s deep voice.

 The stranger blinked. “Do I what?”

 Pariah stepped fully out of the sarcophagus and into the stranger’s space. “Harbor affection for me?”

 A flush spread over the stranger’s cheeks, a deep purple spilling like watercolor in the soft blue and creating a tantalizing contrast. “I hold no such thing!” he hissed, sharp fangs on display as he scowled.

 A shame. Pariah would have to make moves to change that somehow.

 He acknowledged the stranger’s discomfort and took a step back, taking the chance he had to observe in his surroundings.  It was a castle, large and mostly European. Upon further inspection, however, influences of ancient Egyptian tombs could be found in the details, and particularly the traps  . The deep red of the brick was at contrast with the slight green of the ambience around them- ectoplasm. As for where he was …

 His mind drew a blank. He could recognize the ambient ectoplasm for what it was, but could not name the location itself. How frustrating.

 “Pariah?” the stranger asked as he stepped away to more closely examine the castle’s structure.

 Pariah turned his attention back towards him, taking in the stranger’s appearance once more. Beyond the beauty and piercing red eyes, he had a clock embedded into his chest, and his legs dissolved into a wispy tail, his cloak floating gently behind him. A ghost. He was a ghost.

 From the soft thrum of the core in his chest, and the lack of any beating heart or need for air, Pariah was likely to be a ghost as well. Objectively it made sense, and when Pariah attempted to stop and think about it, there was little else he could have been.

 He wondered, if he should ask a question, would the stranger answer? Would it be best if he attempted to hide his lack of familiarity? Would admitting it plainly be equivalent to holding out a dagger with which he may be attacked? But how much could he discover without fully tipping his hand?

 The sarcophagus… Clearly he’d been sealed away in it somehow, and possibly for some time. Pariah tilted his head before turning to his companion and asking, “How long?”

 Best to keep it vague, bank on assumptions made.

 He watched as the stranger’s expression twisted, just slightly. Enough for Pariah to read the guilt, the discomfort, and he found himself wondering exactly who this was, floating in front of him almost close enough to touch but far enough to flee.

 “Longer than I can justify,” he finally answered. “In all honesty I’m surprised your core is so intact. I would have expected some kind of damage, locked away as you were.”

 Damage, yes, that was certainly likely. He turned away. Would the stranger follow if he left?

 There was really only one way to test it. He started walking towards the entrance of the castle, looking around and taking in everything he could, each puzzle piece and missing bit of knowledge. Something clicked into place. He recognized the structure, could describe the ambient ectoplasm outside the windows, and he could feel his age. He knew there was a history here that he had once been privy to. A history that was lost to him now.

 Being that he was a ghost now, it was likely that at one point he had been alive. That was how ghosts worked, right? Then again, it seemed unlikely that his companion had ever been constrained to something as fickle as mortality.

 His companion had followed him, at a distance and clearly uncomfortable with his actions, but following nonetheless. It settled something inside Pariah, a hum of affirmation in his core. Now if only he could find a way to discover his name, or at the very least a moniker by which to call him.

 “No more questions, Pariah?” Suspicion laced his words, and Pariah glanced back at him, not bothering to stop. There was too much he didn’t know, too much he could give away. “I didn’t take you for the silent treatment type.”

 “Everyone experiences things that might change them,” he offered accusation, interested in whether the barbs he planted would pierce.

 His companion flinched, small, almost imperceptible. An admittance of guilt, something that Pariah should probably hold against him. It was entirely possible that the one who released him from his sleep had been the one to force him into it in the first place.

 Was his loss of memories intended, then? Or merely a side effect? Was he refusing to admit something already well known, or keeping his companion in suspense? What an interesting dance they were in, a tug of war where Pariah had no rope to spare and no reason to admit it.

 “You seem more subdued. Seeing my face when you first awoke, I expected for you to fly into one of your rages,” his companion said, offering an accusation of his own right back.

 Strange though, flying into a rage didn’t sound like him. It seemed too sudden a thing for Pariah, a quick burst of uncontrolled emotion. Was that something he should expect from himself? He’d have thought himself in more control than that.

 But he need neither admit nor deny anything here and now, so instead he switched tracks entirely, turned towards his companion and said, “Why would I awake in a rage, when the first thing I see is as beautiful as you?”

 The other ghost sputtered, the same colorful blush splashing across his cheeks, and Pariah longed to follow it beyond where the hood hid it away. He wanted to uncover him and see his ethereal companion in his entirety, every feature unobscured and available for Pariah to peruse at his heart’s leasure. He desired to trace his fingers along every feature, to catalog them properly so that he might not forget them again, no matter how pleasant the discovery.

 “Is this some ploy to win me back into your arms?” his companion said. The ambient ectoplasm swirled around them, drenched in his emotions. Twisted, complicated things painted in thick layers of history and intimacy that Pariah was a stranger to. “Did you forget I betrayed you? That we saw your fall, orchestrated it twice over? Do you think perhaps I might trust you, when I have no reason to expect anything but bitterness and resentment from you?”

 “So you’re saying I’ve succeeded before?”

 There was a pause, a moment in time where nothing moved, and his companion stared at him, incredulous. Pariah dared not move himself. As skittish as the other ghost was, there was no reason to risk scaring him off so soon. Especially when Pariah had only just now admitted to lacking the history his companion was so clearly drowning in.

 “You don’t… remember?” he asked, his voice soft. Pariah tilted his head, an admittance in itself, and watched as a kaleidoscope of emotions seemed to play upon the other. It was fascinating, to watch the scowl melt away and be so easily replaced with increasingly more complicated emotions. Hope, anxiety, distrust.

 It was intoxicating.

 Pariah had him before, in his previous life, and lost him. He’d have to be sure, this time, not to let go.

 “...Your name.” It could have been a question, or a statement. Pariah answered either way, easily offering the name he had inferred. Judging by the way his companion’s face crumpled though, he hadn’t been entirely correct. “It’s Pariah Dark.”

 Ah, yes that sounded more complete. A full name for what was once a complete identity, not the tattered shreds held together that Pariah was now. He nodded and his companion nodded back, guilt quickly overtaking his features.

 Well that wouldn’t do. Out of all the expressions he’d seen so far that was certainly the least attractive. The coy smirk from earlier, or the flustered blush, those suited him better by far. Pariah stepped closer and spoke softly, “I’d rather know yours, I think, so that I needn’t call you handsome stranger in my head.”

 The blush came back easily and Pariah smiled, reaching a hand to tug away the damned hood blocking his view. A gloved hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him, and Pariah stilled at the contact. He purred, touch starved in his long captivity, and the other ghost looked up, caught, his eyes wide and startled.

 Pariah lifted a brow, his question unanswered, and his companion released his arm and backed away, out of reach. He didn’t let the disappointment show, simply followed with his eyes. They tracked every movement, every shift of his shoulders, the ticking of his clocks. It was some time before he was able to answer at all.

 “Clockwork. My name is Clockwork.” He frowned, clearly hurt but unwilling to show it. “Are you telling me you don’t know who I am?”

 That wasn’t accurate, Pariah mused, it wasn’t so much that he did not know who Clockwork was, but rather that Pariah could not remember him.

 “I know who you are,” he argued. That was, if anything, what he knew most assuredly. It was there, etched into Pariah’s core and written plain as day upon Clockwork’s features.

 “Oh?”

 “You’re mine.”

[vampyrasgone]

                  vampires are almost always depicted in modern fiction as being thin and sallow         and this is definitely not a new trend.  an undead vampire is the most likely candidate to have a complexion built on deathly pallor, and being nocturnal, they almost never have an opportunity to go out amidst the sun.  paleness is also a symptom of anemia, which is a good throwback to their need to take the blood of their victims.   as for their thin physique, this does not refer to body fat in most folklore, but to the loss of muscle mass that a corpse undergoes during decomposition.  it is deathlike wasting away.  exactly what you would expect to see in a dead person walking around town. 

that said, in greek folklore we see that vampires are given swollen bodies with extremely taut skin that makes the sound of a drum if you strike them.  but that upon looking at them, their faces were gorged with blood... with healthy pink cheeks and very red lips.                     it is also to note that blood around the mouth is a normal part of the decomposition process.  the skin itself on the lips takes on a red hue from blood gathering in the mouth and staining the dead skin.     

in 1819′s the vampyre we see that lord ruthven’s appearance is described as:  ‘in spite of the deadly hue of his face, which never gained a warmer tint, either from the blush of modesty or the strong emotion of passion, though its form and outline were beautiful.” - by john polidori.   

the count himself, as we finally turn to him as the main topic of conversation, is an enigma already.  he was born with dark auburn-red hair that turned to dark brownish black as he grew older, marking him as the product of a witch in 1432.  but he was also blessed with his hussar birth-father’s height, eventually leading to him standing at seven feet tall.  he was an imposing, intimidating man that was of a healthy muscular build, able to wield a bastard sword with only one hand with relative ease.    

           now apply the featured characteristics of eastern european vampires and look upon the horrific undead that we are met with.   a gigantic man that has wasted away to rail-thin bones and a gray pallor, with lips that have been stained red from inside the mouth from the build up of blood and gasses.  fingernails that seem to be over two inches long and pointed from the recession of skin and bone and ribs that can only be covered successfully by wearing many layers of clothing.   he is a walking corpse among the living, with gaunt cheekbones and a hooked profile that is unmistakable when seen.  even his temples and forehead seem slightly protrusive and concave in some areas, with his sunken eyes even more piercing from their eerie blue light. 

           and then we have his fangs.  yes! fangs are perhaps the most iconic feature of the fictional vampire and serve as dracula’s specific visual queue.  they are ubiquitous with the portrayal of a fictional vampire.  the very things that allow the count to consume what he must to survive, or to feed his cursed blood to another and turn them into a vampire themselves.  i’ve spoken on this before, that his teeth are two inches long at the canines, with a subset of canines that are only an inch long on the sides, and two small incisors on the lower jaw to hold a grip on flesh.  that said, he does not bite down.  he prefers to insert his longer canines into the flesh, tear it open, and then drink the blood that spills out by sucking on the wound or lapping at it with his tongue.  

it is said that the hair of the vampire never actually stops growing.  neither do their nails ; and so, i’ve accepted this as hard canon after waffling over it for some time.  that if the count were to cut his hair, that within weeks it would return to the length it was prior. specifically the length it was when he was murdered.  the count has very little hair at his temples, as he has a bit of receding hairline, but it grows very thickly and long across his scalp and down his back, making a prominent feature of his pale, pointed ears.  it reaches his tailbone easily, and thanks to the effects of death, appears a deep gray-black with white and silver hairs incorporated throughout.  

nailbreaking is a common source of annoyance, being that they have almost no nutrients to make them anything more than thin and brittle.  they are sharp and deadly up close, but are frail and easily broken from daily tasks.  these will grow back by the end of the following day, a little shinier and less ridged.  this also is a common symptom of anemia that he shares:  red lines across the tops of his nails, as well as a rough, bumpy texture going down to the cuticle. 

i have numerous other statements about the markings on his body, including the sigils of solomon’s court that have given him, as a solomonar, the capabilities of wielding the power of perun’s lightning against his foes or summoning dark storm clouds with his connection to valva, the zmeu.    |    information / research sources from forests of the vampire, slavic myth and mankind, vampires of lore ( ap sylvia), the story of marusia,  pantheon of the slavs, charles phillips, michael kerrigan, kingdoms of the dead, dr elizabeth warner, spirit masters and little demons...

      as a small annotation: please keep in mind these are sources i use for my portrayal of count dracula and the moroi/moroaica (species of undead vampire, see, source)  that come from him. not vampires as a whole or portrayals that write with/follow me.

[puckyess]

Gold-digger | Dylan Holloway

In a perfect world, all of my boys win gold

Words: 4K

It was surreal how you could sense his presence. You went from anxious excitement to a feeling of warmth, all within one breath. You watched from a distance as his frame cleared the tunneled gateway. An outsider may have pegged him as an athlete, heading back to school, with the way his broad shoulders filled out that red maple leaf hoodie and thighs that looked thick even in his grey sweatpants. They would have no idea that the boy who was ducking his head was a World Junior Champion. 

His head lifts, features set into a frown as he searches the busy airport for you. When his eyes finally catch yours watching him, he breaks out into that goofy grin that you love so much. You let him make his way to you even though you want nothing more than to run to him, simply because you find it adorable that he clearly double times it to get to you. His arms engulf you and you swear he feels stronger than when he left 54 days ago. He lifts you off your feet, crushing you into his chest and yet it’s still not close enough. The act is softened when his hand comes up to cup the back of your head and he buries his face into your hair. A word hasn’t been said between the two of you but it doesn't have to because this moment says it all. 

He exhales as he sets you on your feet again, the smile still on his face though it’s softer now. “I’ve missed you”.

Your arms still wrapped around his waist you pull back just the slightest to look up and reciprocate the sentiment. “You’re not allowed to leave me again, like ever”, you inform him. 

He chuckles and his finger finds his way under your chin so that he can do what he’s been thinking about for months. “You have yourself a deal” he mumbles before smashing his lips against yours. He’s never been one for PDA, always remaining lowkey and content with keeping things private. So this takes you by surprise, it’s way more heated than he’s ever been with you in public and you’re not complaining one bit. 

It doesn’t take more than a second for you to give into his lips, letting his tongue slide into your mouth. Your arms come up to snake around his neck, pulling him down to you. He has one hand on the small of your back, supporting you both as he leans into you, the other finds its way to the back of your neck, trying to leverage you even closer to him to deepen the kiss. All of the emotion of the past two months is evident in the way you both pour yourselves into each other. 

When you just about moan into his mouth, you have to pull away. You know what you must look like when you see the way his eyes are blown. His lips are well kissed and still parted and his cheeks are the color of his sweatshirt. He looks both stunned and perfectly pleased, a smirk creeping its way onto his face. 

“Welcome home, baby”, you greet him, holding his hands as you raise up on your tiptoes to give him one last, much more innocent kiss before grabbing one of his bags. 

“Let’s go home”. Your heart flutters at his use of the word “home”. You know exactly where he’s referring to and love that your home has become his too. His dimple pops as he throws that sweet smile your way. He picks up his other bag and slings an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. 

. 

As you make your way through the airport he pulls you closer and places a kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you for picking me up. I really missed you” he breathes out. 

Suddenly you stop in your tracks, almost taking yourself out as your fridge of a boyfriend keeps his arm looped around your shoulders as he continues moving forward. He turns around startled. 

In all of the excitement of having your baby back in your arms and that kiss knocking you off of your feet you had completely forgotten, but now that you remembered you could barely contain your excitement. “Don’t you have something you want to show me? Like, I don't know...maybe something shiny?” you tease. 

He suddenly looks bashful, his face turning as red as it was after he very publicly marked his territory moments ago. 

“Come on, D, let me see that gold medal of yours” you squeal. 

He pulls you and his bags off to the side so that you’re not in the way and then his hand ducks into the collar of his sweatshirt and comes back out with a beautiful gold medal. 

Awe is the only word Dylan can think of to describe you when he finally shows it to you. Your eyes are wide and your perfect lips are formed into a little “o” as you take it all in, the little skater ensignia, the perfect roundness of the medallion, the weight of what it all meant. And then you’re grinning at him with glassy eyes. 

He looks so proud watching you take in what is one of his greatest accomplishments so far. But his pride doesn’t even compare to how proud you are of him for working to get to where he is and battling adversity for that medal. You know how much it meant to him to be on the team in the first place, to represent his country, but to actually be part of bringing home the gold brought about a whole slew of emotions for you. 

He was a champion and he was yours. 

“So what do you think?” He finally asks you, sliding the ribbon around your neck. 

“I think you make me the proudest girlfriend in the whole world.”

—

Once you get to your car you throw his bags in your trunk. He walks to the passenger side and opens your door and you smile to yourself, not believing how much you missed such a mundane action. He leans in for yet another kiss before shutting your door and sliding into his side. Immediately his right hand finds yours and he brings it up to his lips to kiss, releasing your hand only to do that really hot thing that guys do when they back a car up and then his grip is in yours all over again. 

With the music playing softly in the background and your sunshine back in the car with you it’s like you’re in your own little bubble with him, the good kind this time. You know he feels the same way because he’s much more talkative than back in the airport, in fact there’s hardly a second where the car isn’t filled with his voice. It’s a sound that you’d missed more than you thought your heart would allow and you were more than grateful to have it back. His smile is contagious, as always, but today especially. With every glance your way, his grin accompanies it. He gushes about his journey to the gold medal that was now hanging around your neck. 

You make him start from the beginning, how he felt when he first boarded his flight back to his home providence. He admitted how nervous he was since at that point, he was unsure if he would make the team and he knew it was his last chance for that honor. He told you of all things he did to keep himself motivated and hopeful while he quarantined, twice, even though he knew the other guys were out there playing and earning their spots with every minute he wasn’t able to be on the ice. When he says that your daily calls and check-ins were one of those things, you give his hand a squeeze that matches the one your heart does in your chest. He tells you all about the guys, doing his best to describe their personalities and special moments that they shared while in that bubble together. 

He indulges your every question, like the best round of 20 questions you’ve ever played in your life. He shares the lows of losing his captain right off the bat to the highs of the calm feeling of the locker room right before that final game. He makes you feel like you were right there by his side. 

You don’t want this little moment to end as he pulls into the parking garage and apparently neither does he because he doesn’t make a move to get out of the car. So you continue your attack and ask him what he thought he was doing, looking that good in all of those suits.

--

When you finally get up to go to the bathroom, Dylan starts to follow you and you have to put your hand on his chest to shove him back on the couch. “I can pee by myself, D, thank you” you laugh. Since the minute you walked through the door, no, the minute you got out of the car he had not left your side. 

He looks so sad for a moment and you almost change your mind until you snap back to reality with how ridiculous that would be. “I’ll just be right across the room” you assure him, pointing to the bathroom that was literally across the living room. 

“At least leave the door open”, he grumbles.

You roll your eyes, but give him a quick kiss anyway. “You’re so weird, Dylan”, but you do as he requests anyway and he starts a full on conversation with you as you go about your business. 

You emerge from the bathroom and head for the kitchen instead of your spot in his arms. When you don’t hear him complain, you turn and look at your boyfriend in alarm, “Are you not going to ask me where I’m going?” you tease him. 

He looks guilty like he actually messed up and should’ve asked and you laugh. “You’ve been my shadow for days now, I think this is the first time you’ve actually let me out of your sight”.

The only word that could be used to describe his behavior lately is clingy. You weren’t complaining of course after not having access to your boyfriend in so long, but it was kind of comical how much attention he required. He would follow you everywhere, and demanded to be touching you constantly. Whether it was holding your hand to go get a water bottle or moving your feet onto his lap on the couch to watch a show, he had to be connected to you. If you got up for any reason he would question you, like a lost puppy until he knew what you were up to. 

He blushes at your observation, but he doesn't deny it. “That’s the longest we’ve been apart since we met, I guess I’m just readjusting”.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it” you tell him as you crawl back into your spot in his arms after retrieving your drink. “I missed you too”.

--

The next few days you get reacquainted with each other, falling back into your routines and of course pressing each other’s buttons. 

“Stop glaring at me, you asked for this. Literally, if I remember correctly” Dylan points out. 

His comment only makes you furrow your brows even more, your glare deepening as you stare at your god of a boyfriend. There he lay on the couch, sprawled out in all of his golden glory. His blonde hair was perfectly tousled, loose strands dancing across his forehead as he shook his head at you. He was wearing your favorite sweats, the ones that sat low on his hips and hugged his ass just right and to taunt you even more, he was shirtless. But that wasn’t even the best part. The ribbon around his neck, the gold medallion laying against his skin was something you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. 

You had a paper to write and his appearance was not helping you get anything done. “Well when I told you to wear it around this morning, I didn’t know you’d look like that” you grumble, still unable to look away.

His laughter bounces through the room at your apparent distaste. “You have to wear the medal, Dylan. No, don’t put a shirt on, I like you just like that.” he mimics you from this morning in a high pitched voice. You don’t know what it was about that gold medal, but it turned you on and he knew it. 

You roll your eyes, shutting your computer. You go to chirp him, but he picks that exact moment to raise his arms and stretch out, letting out a groan in the process. Your eyes go wide as you watch every muscle in his body flex, the glimmer and shine of his medal matching the one in his eyes. The smirk that spreads across his face makes you want to choke him, or maybe to be choked you’re not quite sure because your mind is a mess. 

“I can go put a shirt on, if that’s what you want” he offers, moving to get up off the couch.

The rate at which you jump up to stop him as you yell, “No!”, is almost embarrassing. 

He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused at how worked up you are. 

“What?” you ask him, trying to brush it off, but there was no hiding how flustered he was making you. He had always been more than attractive to you, that much was obvious. Maybe it was the amount of time you had been forced apart, but he was somehow driving you even more insane every time you looked at or even thought about him. You were obsessed, knowing your man was a gold medal champion. 

You thought you could handle seeing him walking around your apartment, shirtless, donning that medal, hell you even thought you wanted it. However, the minute you walked into the living room earlier and saw him standing there with his cup of coffee, leaning against your floor to ceiling windows, the city his backdrop you knew you were fucked. 

You swallow hard, trying to push the image from your mind and get your head out of the gutter. “You’re the worst”, you glare at him again. Who knew it would be the absolute worst thing you could’ve said. His already apparent smirk widens. 

“That’s not what you were saying last night”. 

And with those 8 words, he unleashes a monster. Your composure is gone, if it was there at all and you full on whine his name. 

This is when you get the confident hockey player side of him. He grins at his work, propping his head up behind one arm and beckoning you with the other. 

“C’mere, my little Gold-digger”. 

-- 

The end of the day was always your favorite. You thrived at night, even when you were exhausted. You loved looking out and seeing the night sky lit up with the city lights, you loved feeling small, tucked away in your own quiet corner of the world. But most of all, you loved those midnight talks with Dylan. Nothing was off limits with him, from outrageous would you rather that had you questioning whether you were dating a budding NHL player or a middle school boy to deep talks that had you believing with every fiber of your being that he was made just for you. 

Tonight as you lay in bed with him, you had a question for him that kept slipping your mind. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why didn’t you just ask one of the boys to pick you up?” you ask, lifting your head off his chest, instead propping your head up on your arm. “I know Ryder’s been dying to see you, he’s been sending me withdrawal texts since we put you on a plane” you joke. 

“They don’t know I’m here yet”, he shrugs as if it’s no big deal. 

The hand that was tracing patterns on his chest stops and he turns to look at you, anticipating your question. “You didn’t tell them you were back?”

Again he shrugs, “They think I went home for a bit before I’m coming back”.

“Ohmygod your family. Dylan! Did you even see them while you were out there?” you ask sitting up suddenly. As selfish as it was, you had only thought about him seeing his family when he first left. It hadn’t even crossed your mind for him to stay with them before coming back to campus. Now you felt bad that he was with you and not his family, you knew he didn’t get to see them very often. 

His hands shoot out to grab yours and he pulls you back into his chest. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I saw them for a little bit before I left, they knew I wanted to get back though. I’ll be out there soon enough, I didn’t want to keep you waiting”.

You know your eyes are glassy when you look up at him to confirm he meant what he said. “And as much as I love the guys, they’re kind of dominating you know? I just wanted to spend a few days with my girl before we get our third wheel back” he says, giving you a squeeze. 

At that you have to laugh because Ryder really had become your third wheel and honestly Shay was your fourth. Whether they did it to bug Dylan or genuinely could not be apart from him you were still undecided, but either way, where there was your boyfriend, there was also your two other boyfriends. 

“He’s going to be so mad when he finds out” you tell him giggling at your little secret. 

“Not if he never finds out” 

“I think he has some kind of radar, D. I’m surprised he hasn’t already come knocking”.

“Don’t say that too loud” he laughs. 

And as if on cue, your phone dings asking if you knew when Dylan was coming back. Once your laughter dies out you settle in and relish in the warmth of having Dylan next to you in bed again. 

You’re on the verge of sleep when his voice cuts through the darkness. “Y/N?”

You hum in response. 

“Are you awake?” he asks, as if your response wasn’t enough. 

You roll over so that you’re facing him to see what’s keeping him up.

“I woke you up, didn’t I? Go back to sleep” he whispers. 

“You’ve got me, babe. What’s on your mind?”

He hesitates and you think he might’ve gone to sleep after all and so you call his name. 

“I’m here. I just-. You know what I was thinking of the whole time I was over there?” 

You raise your eyebrows even though you know he can’t see them in the darkness, but he continues on anyway. 

“I kept thinking everytime I walked into that building that this was going to be my future. That this is where my career was really going to start”. 

You had wondered about that, how he felt and what it was like for him to be spending so much time in the very place where he was going to be playing for the next three and maybe more years. But you had been too afraid to bring it up, for fear of starting a talk about the future that you were unprepared for. 

But you swallow your fears and ask anyway, “What was it like?”

You can hear the smile and excitement in his voice when he talks about his future home. “It’s amazing. It was such a privilege to be able to experience that before I get there, to get a taste of what’s to come, ya know? Like I can’t believe that that locker room is going to be mine and those stands are going to be filled with people that want to see my team play. It was surreal and humbling. It started to feel real”, and there’s something about his voice and the way he’s talking that you can tell is leading to something big. 

You brace yourself for impact when he swallows hard. He doesn't say anything else, he reaches up and brushes your hair back from your face instead. “Come on, Dylan, you’re scaring me. What aren’t you saying?” 

“It started to feel real,” he repeats. “I was in my home, so close to achieving my dream and all I could think about was how I wanted you there with me.” 

You don’t feel like it’s safe to let out the breath you’re holding quite yet. 

“I thought getting to the next level was the ultimate goal and in a way it still is, it’s what I’ve been working for my whole life, but Y/N it just didn’t feel right to not be able to share it with you too. I know it’s early and I don’t know where I’ll be this time next year, but when I do get there, I want you there with me. Edmonton might be where I’m going, but it won’t be home without you”. 

When he feels the wetness of your tears falling on his chest he’s concerned. But he knows you so well and knows what your love language is and so he tilts your chin up and kisses you hard. He tells you with his lips how much he loves you, how much he adores you, how much impact you’ve had on his life. And you kiss him right back, knowing you won’t be able to get the words out at this point. You kiss your relief, your love and your commitment into his soul. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes?” he asks breathless as he pulls away. 

You nod, equally as out of breath, “I’d follow you anywhere, Dylan Holloway”. 

No more needs to be said, the perfect words already professed. He tugs you a little closer to him and shuffles down the bed until his head is resting on your chest and the rest of his body is nesting itself a home in yours. It never fails to amaze you how much he loved to be the little spoon and how his fridge of a body managed to fit with yours perfectly. You fingers card through his hair, earning a content little sigh. You feel his breathing even out and you feel yourself nearing the edge of sleep too. 

You swore you would never get enough of the way he held onto you, tight enough to know you were wanted and loved. You would never get tired of the way his voice dropped, in tone because he was fighting sleep for you, but in volume because no one else needed to hear him but you. You would always crave the way his fingers would manage to trace light paths all across your face and arms as he opened himself up to you. There was something so vulnerable and honest about your nights spent with him and you prayed that they never ended. 

But his raspy voice breaks through the silence yet again, this time to ask, “How do you feel about silver? I’m bringing you home a Stanley Cup next”.

He lifts his head to flash that goofy grin your way as he soaks up your laughter. 

“Silver sounds good to me, baby”

With that he’s satisfied, but even with the new goal, your new pet name still sticks. “Goodnight, my little Gold-digger.”

[bisexualcrowley]

Girls do it better

Kinktober day 12: Fingering

Pairing: Donna Sheridan x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Donna when she first arrives at the island, and you show her the ropes

Content/warnings: Fluff, smut/nsfw, porn with plot, light cursing, one night stand

Word count: 2,302

Donna’s eyes widened, almost choking on her drink at the sight of the woman who had just entered the little café. You walked with an air of confidence while still giving off a humble vibe, the two balancing each other perfectly to create what Donna could only describe as an angel and she couldn’t stop herself from staring as you made your way into the building.

 Strappy leather sandals clicked quietly against the uneven floorboards as you walked up to the counter and leaned your forearms against it, saying a few words in greek to the woman washing glasses with a warm smile that made the blonde’s chest flutter, now having a proper view of the woman who stood a few table-lengths away.

You were tall, or at least taller than Donna, with h/l h/c hair and warm e/c eyes that reflected the sea outside beautifully, your tanned figure wrapped in a short blue and white dress with golden trim that ended just above your knees. 

Donna must have made a noise, because moments later you had looked over your shoulder to meet Donna’s eyes and she quickly looked back down at her book, blushing madly as the you let out a good natured laugh. 

Donna allowed herself a sheepish glance upward and was surprised to see you nod your head back in her direction, speaking again in greek to the woman behind the counter before turning and making your way over to where Donna sat.

You grinned, leaning a hand on the back of the chair opposite the blushing woman and tilting your head to try and get a look at the novel laid out on the table.

“Whatcha’ readin’ there?”

Your voice was upbeat and friendly, and despite her embarrassment from before Donna found it soothing, looking up to meet you with a shy smile.  “The Hobbit. I know, kinda nerdy, but I've always loved it”

You felt your already content appearance split into a huge smile and Donna felt her face heat up again, nodding towards the empty chair in invitation which you happily accepted, pulling the seat around so you would be directly beside the young woman before dropping smoothly into it.

“I’ve always loved it too! It’s so easy to get roped into the world, isn't it.” You grinned at Donna’s nod of agreement, and after a short pause stuck out a hand, which she shook without hesitation.

“I’m Y/n, glad to meet you!”

You spoke happily, shooting Donna another megawatt smile that had her stomach doing flips all over again. Dammit Sheridan, get it together, she silently cursed as your fingers wrapped around her own.

“Donna Sheridan, good to meet you too!” She returned, breaking off the handshake to mark her page and close the book, her focus now entirely on you.

“Well then Donna, what brings you to a place like this? Or more specifically, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” You winked, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table the way you had at the counter, and despite her efforts, Donna found her eyes momentarily drawn to them, watching the sun glint off the bracelets lining your wrists. 

You weren’t exactly sure what it was that had given you such a flare of confidence, maybe it was how adorable the woman beside you was, maybe the whole island was intoxicating, or maybe it had just been too long since you had felt attracted to anyone like this.  Either way, it wasn’t important, the only thing that mattered right now was the way Donna grinned at your question, her face burning beet red and eyebrows shooting up as she giggled.

“I wanted a fresh start, to travel, see the world, that kind of thing, y’know?” She replied as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What about you? You seem to fit in well with the crowd, are you from around here?”

“I wish! I’ve just been traveling, been on this island for a month and take off tomorrow. My parents didn’t take too well to my coming out, so what better time to get out and see the world, right?” You chuckled, jokingly striking a pose when you mentioned your sexuality. 

Donna’s ears perked up at your words, and masking her excitement with a giggle, she continued along the topic. “Ha! I feel you, my mother’s already pretty disappointed in my choices, I can’t imagine how she’d feel if she knew I swung both ways.”

You shot a friendly smile to the woman from behind the counter as she set two drinks down in front of you on the table, and without hesitation you raised a glass, winking at Donna who replied with a tip of her head and a raise of her own drink.

“To being a raging homosexual” You toasted with a laugh, bringing your hand forward to clink your glasses together.

“To being a raging homosexual.” Donna replied, pretending not to notice the way your fingers brushed as your cups touched, the way yours lingered briefly overtop of her own.

The two of you laughed, enjoying the moment as your fingers brushed together again as you set your cups down. You didn’t miss the way Donna’s eyes flicked to your lips as you took one between your teeth, and you were sure she didn’t miss it when your eyes did the same to her. 

Donna, immediately flustered, was the first one to look away, clearing her throat sheepishly and smiling at the floor. It made you giggle, it was clear she didn’t have much experience flirting with women, maybe none at all, and you found it adorable.  You didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable though, and hoping to ease her nerves you leaned forward slightly, resting your fingers softly over her own.

“Hey, since you’re new here, why don’t I show you around the island? Lots of hidden treasures you wouldn’t want to miss” You smiled, your voice holding an air of comfort for the other woman. 

To your delight, your proposition had Donna beaming and responding with an enthusiastic nod, leaving you giggling happily once again. Dropping a tip on the table, you stood up and made your way towards the exit, Donna trailing behind happily. 

The hours flew by as the two of you wandered around the island, first to a little shop selling brightly colored jewelry, then to a run down building that Donna climbed up onto, dancing goofily as if it was a stage and leaving you both doubled over in laughter. 

Next you showed her around the little town, introducing her happily to friendly shopkeepers, Donna’s eyes wide with excitement as you wandered between buildings.

Neither of you knew exactly when you had taken each others hand, but there were no questions towards the action. Donna’s fingers threaded between yours and you squeezed, looking to the side to grin at the blonde who’s face was frozen in an enthralled smile.

The sun was just beginning to set when you reached a small dock overlooking the ocean, which was now glistening orange and pink with the colors of the sky. You had seen a lot of wonderful things during your stay on Kalokairi, but you had to admit the sun sinking below the horizon as the waves lapped against the shore was one of the most beautiful. 

It was clear that Donna felt the same way as you looked over to find her staring awestruck at the landscape, her mouth hanging open slightly with a smile ghosting at the corners.

You smiled too, finding yourself unable to tear your eyes away from your new friend. She really was gorgeous, both by personality and by appearance. The light reflected in her eyes like the warm glow of a fire, glinted off her lips like the perfect shade of lipgloss.

You caught yourself staring when Donna turned to face you, but you didn’t turn away the way you normally would. Instead your eyes locked with hers, and you slid your hand from its place clasped with hers and moved upwards, slowly and smoothly until you were brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, behind her ear.

No words were needed when Donna leaned into the touch, tilted her head towards your own, allowed her lips to land gently on hers. The kiss was warm, sweet, your connection deepening even more as you cupped her jaw in one hand, tangled the other in her loose curls.

Surprisingly to you she was the one to deepen the kiss, sighing against your mouth and pressing her chest against your own before nipping softly at your lower lip. 

Your breath hitched at the action but you didn’t protest. Quite the contrary, you reached down, pulled her hips flush with your own as the two of you made out.

Donna moaned quietly as you moved against her and took the leap again, nudging your thighs open and sliding her leg between, pressing her own thigh against your clothed sex.

You let out a moan of your own at the sudden pressure, allowing yourself to pull out of the kiss, chest heaving as you caught your breath.

“There's... An empty beach house, just past those trees... Wanna move this over there?” You panted, staring at the lust blown eyes of the shorter woman, who nodded rapidly before grabbing your hand.

You took quick steps across the pier back to the beach, the two of you giggling all the way, Donna squealing when you swatted jokingly at her ass.

The moment you were inside the  run down building you had Donna pressed against a wall, hands tangled in her hair again as your mouths smashed together in a heated kiss. There was no hesitation when Donna’s thigh nudged between yours this time, immediately pressing upwards and making you groan against her mouth as you ground against it.

Your head dipped to press butterfly kisses across her jaw, down her neck and settling at the dip where her neck met her shoulders, and Donna let out a pleased sigh at the sensation. Her fingers flew to the ties holding your dress on, undoing the strings in quick motions that left the fabric pooling around your ankles and revealing a lace bralette and matching panties.

You sighed when the cooling air hit your skin, smiling against Donna’s collarbone before pulling off to tug at her own clothes, fingers slipping her loose top over her shoulders and deftly undoing the fastenings on her jeans.

You hadn’t realized until the moment Donna’s clothes dropped to the ground just how desperate you were, and your mouth crashed against hers again, kissing with a newly found fervor that had her gasping against your mouth.

You couldn’t hold yourself off for any longer and reached down, stroking two fingers along the shorter woman’s clothed sex, finding her panties already slick with her arousal. No longer having the self control to be a tease, you nudged the thin fabric to the side and plunged your digits into her dripping cunt, to which Donna let out a wrecked moan.

You smirked at the sounds she made, taking it as an invitation to keep going, so at that you thrust in again. Donna’s lips clashed with your own desperately with each time you impaled her on your fingers, curling to brush her g-spot with each thrust as your thumb rubbed circles on her throbbing clit.

Feeling her release building embarrassingly fast, Donna quickly removed her hands from their clutch on your hips and shoved your panties down, plunging two fingers into you without hesitation

You writhed against her at the intrusion, whimpering softly as you fucked into each other without abandon.

It only took a few more thrusts to push Donna over the edge. One final slam of your fingers into her g spot and a flick of her clit sent her spiraling into an orgasm, her hand tightening and stilling inside you as the pleasure overcame her.

Your motions slowed but didn’t stop as Donna rode out her orgasm, stroking her walls gently as her cunt clenched around your fingers. When she finally pulled back she was panting, face flushed and lips swollen from making out so roughly. 

You were about to open your mouth to speak, but before you could think of what to say Donna had dropped to her knees in front of you and before you realized it, her mouth was attached to your dripping cunt, fingers thrusting rapidly again as her tongue made contact with your clit.

She lapped hungrily at your arousal as she slammed into you, and it took no time at all for you to be thrown into your own orgasm, coming with a cry of Donna’s name as her mouth replaced her fingers, impaling you on her tongue again and again as the waves washed through you.

When she pulled off you were sure you looked as wrecked as she did, with messed hair, smeared makeup and face flushed red. 

For a moment the room was silent aside from the crash of waves from outside, the two of you letting the moment sink in before you started snickering. Nothing about the moment was funny, but it still had the two of you laughing, Donna’s face bright with a smile once again.

“So, are you glad you came here?” You spoke first, biting your lip to hold back a giggle as you gave her a mockingly suggestive look, to which Donna replied with a howl of laughter.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I am”