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themaclean · 7 months ago

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We Don't Have To Be Friends (1/2) Characters: Cooper Howard/Lucy MacLean. Summary: 3,507 words, Post Season One -- character study that was meant to be PWP, but then ended up being entirely plot. Part two will be smut or I will krill myself. Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't see in the show. ( Ao3 ) > Part One | Part Two | Part Three <

Cooper never thought much about Hollywood anymore.

He had no reason to and no time either— but the thoughts bubbled up when he saw how the gold thread of his shirt dulled and familiar street signs melted into slack arches. Sometimes, he’d catch sight of a tattered newspaper with names he recognized or faces of people long since dead.

But nothing made him think of Hollywood the way Lucy did.

It hit him one afternoon with a nasty churn, that flash of the old world that locked his knees mid-stride. It was pathetic, really, when he thought about it now.

It was the flash of Lucy's Vault-Tec-sponsored smile over her shoulder, her thin hand with a necrotized finger pointing ahead of them at some landmark she’d heard of. With her head turned at just the right angle, and the sun was low as it caught the edges of her cheeks and lashes…

She had the sort of face girls in the movies had: clear skin, big eyes, and neat hair. Pretty — beautiful, actually, but not as a matter of compliment. Beautiful in the way she’d make a good price at any given market if he was inclined to sell her. Beautiful in the way people loved to exploit.

That’s the lifeblood of Hollywood—that churning mass of young talent desperate to prove they had what it takes. They’d sweet talk whoever they needed to, go to the parties, and chat his ear off about how amazing he’d been in whatever movie had come out lately, about the sponsorships they’d been offered, and about the dresses they got sent. They’d slip him their number and hold his bicep too long like they’d been taught to by managers and mothers alike.

Dozens of pretty women rushed to audition for the role of arm candy. They’d audition to play the mayor's daughter, the farmer's daughter, or so-and-so’s daughter. They’d always been the damsel. Then, whatever cowboy he’d been hired to play would toss the pretty woman onto the back of Sugarfoot and ride off into the sunset. The sort of girl who'd be gone by the next movie or end up married to a director, so she'd quit acting.

And, much like all the girls in Hollywood Cooper had spent time with, Lucy had changed. She had the same optimism, but it’d dulled; her marketable face now held tired, empty eyes. It was like she finally caught onto the world’s current: no sunset and no next movie.

Cooper couldn’t fault her. It's a strange journey to discover what to do to survive.

“Hey Cooper — is that it?” Lucy asked, repeating herself. The sprawl of buildings ahead was dotted with torches and candles.

Cooper nodded, his hand firm on Dogmeat’s collar.

A short strip of buildings stood out against the expanse of desert and dry shrubs. Each building leaned towards another, with sheet metal fastened with unskilled welding. Several turrets puttered away, seeking whatever wasn’t humanoid enough. Strips of fabric and tin cans garlands peppered the buildings' front. The smaller buildings on either side were your standard fare: a repair shop, a medic, a trader with a little diner area.

But the one Cooper was after stood out for its neon sign—Hell’s Oasis.

Hell’s Oasis served its purpose—it was a decent place to get information, and the people minded their business. They weren’t too bothered with ghouls or mutants as long as you had caps. The place often served as a meeting ground for bounty hunters and their contractors. It was also one of the more upscale places, as they wouldn’t harvest organs unless you died of natural causes.

And, if you couldn’t fight or forage for survival, you could fuck for it.

(Not that Cooper ever wasted caps on the whores who took residence within Hell’s Oasis. He’d sooner pay people to fuck off than spend the night with him.)

Cooper grabbed Lucy by the nape of her neck to yank her close and keep her firmly by his side. Most people he brought here, he left here — call it a force of habit to handle her so roughly.

“I can walk, y’know,” Lucy hissed.

“Stick close,” Cooper clicked his tongue at her, and a slight hiss followed. His grip flexed to further the message that she’d do well to follow his guidance.

They made their way through the hotel lobby, the moldy carpet slick against the floor with dirt and grease from the world outside. A few people chattered away in the attached bar, laughing at jokes Cooper couldn’t make out. Casino chips clattered on the table as they played made-up card games.

Long dead plants clung to arid dirt, the sticks of old ferns wilting against one another. Metal crates were lashed together in each corner of the alcove where the front desk sat, providing a makeshift cage between the staff and the patrons. Several girls rushed past Cooper and Lucy, jeering and cackling as they approached the bar. They were clad in lacy nightgowns. He couldn’t tell if they knew they were lingerie rather than clothes or if they’d even care.

“It’s so lively here,” Lucy said, a pang of something in her face.

“It happens in pockets,” Cooper said with a shrug of his shoulder. Little uh… spots of life.”

“Must be why they call it an oasis.”

Cooper rolled his eyes as they reached the front desk. Magazines sat in thick stacks with information about local tours in the area and a guide to the national parks. An abandoned handbag was tucked against the desk, which Lucy eyed with curiosity.

Cooper slapped the front desk bell a few times, a gargling growl low in his throat.

They needed this break after a couple of weeks on the road together. Water was getting sparse, and he wanted to be ready to meet with whoever the fuck Hank had run off to. And in such an open desert, there’s no sense traveling at night, and all manner of dumb shit came up along the way.

It was always something. People needed help or some dumb cunt trying to pick a fight, resupplies, rest… He didn’t like helping people much, but Lucy argued with him whenever they tried to go on without at least trying. And whether the people lived or died, at least they tried. That was her argument.

But Lucy listened to him a little more now, and he was as patient as he could be with her.

Cooper rang the bell again. He wanted a room, and the chattering laughter in the bar was only making his aches worse.

Priscilla appeared from behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain. Her hairline was hidden beneath a thick headscarf with puffy blond curls bouncing beneath it. The last time he’d been here, her hair had begun to rot out of her skull. He guessed it’d only gotten worse. She’s still pretty, mirroring that old-world red lip with pin curls.

“Oh my God, is that you, Coop? I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Priscilla said in a slow, low voice. She had a rasp to it, always had, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the radiation or a smoking habit.

“Was underground,” Cooper said with a lazy smile. He wouldn’t mention that he’d been underground in a literal sense, trapped in a coffin.

“Well, it’s nice for you to come to see us and…” Priscilla’s gaze slid to Lucy, that usual surprise swelling up at the sight of a genuine Vault Dweller. They weren’t hard to spot. “Ah, you turning her in for a bounty?”

Lucy’s head snapped towards him, a mixture of shock and disgust.

“No,” Cooper shook his head, his grip firm on Lucy’s neck to turn her head away from him. His fingers tensed before they dropped away altogether, brushing across Lucy’s shoulder. “Tag-along. Helpin’ her uh…” He picked through the words that came to mind, cautious not to share too much. “Adjust to the surface.”

Priscilla’s jaw squared as she stared Lucy down.

“We’re just lookin’ for a room, some food,” Cooper said before she could pry further. “Usual fare.”

“Please,” Lucy said, like Cooper had forgotten, and it was important to say. “The usual fare, please.”

“She speaks,” Priscilla said in a purr.

Cooper had to give Lucy credit. She’d stayed quiet much longer than he’d expected.

“Oh, we’ll also need water,” Lucy said, looking up at Cooper. “For cleaning and drinking. I’m not sure if you separate it that way or if you reuse it unless you have showers.”

Priscilla narrowed her eyes. “Running water? We can get you a bucket of water, sweetness. That alright with you?”

“It works great for me. Big fan of buckets. They’re the backbone of agriculture and cleaning, really, if you think about it…” Lucy agreed, her smile as bright as the neon sign by the front window.

Priscilla looked at Cooper and then at Lucy, repeating the loop before she sauntered behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain strung up with zip ties. The distant hum of a generator underscored the silence as Cooper picked over the board of caricatures. Plenty of people were banned from the premises or with a bounty on their heads — no one stood out on the board, at least.

“She was giving us a weird look,” Lucy leaned closer to Cooper, feigning a swipe of her hand through her hair. The floor creaked as she shifted her weight closer to him. “Is it the bucket thing? I panicked.”

Cooper scoffed from the back of his throat.

“It is safe here, right? You trust her?”

“It’s safe,” Cooper bared his teeth at Lucy, begging her to return to the docile silence she’d thrived in.

“Then why — ”

Cooper hissed for her to shh through clenched teeth.

Priscilla pushed past the curtain. She gripped a little blue card with faded gold edges. A key with a golden ball chain was attached to the edge. It felt strangely archaic to be so formal about lodgings, but it was why he liked this place.

“I guess it makes sense,” Priscilla said as she slid the key to Cooper. She nodded to Lucy. “You wanting a girl who’s more… Old—world flavor. It reminds you of the golden years, hm?”

“Six, right?” Cooper ignored her question, his gaze fixed to the card.

“Six,” Priscilla repeated, her gaze on Lucy.

Cooper tossed a few caps onto the front desk, the clatter of metal their own punctuation. He notched his head towards the stairs, and Dogmeat and Lucy followed in stride. He was eager for the simple things — water, food, and a moment to let his bags rest.

“Wanting a girl…” Lucy smiled, mumbling more of Priscilla’s words under her breath.

After several flights of stairs and a few hours, Cooper felt all the better. He’d eaten his fill and enjoyed the peace of an enclosed room. He didn’t often allow himself such a luxury, as being in a settlement put a target on your back for any larger groups. But it’d been two weeks since they’d had proper rest out of the elements.

Tracking Hank wasn’t easy, either. That suit meant he could skip over all the pocked landscape and roaming threats. What would take him an hour to travel by air was a day for them sometimes, a fact that spurred Cooper on. But they couldn’t rush, as rushing would only get them killed.

One wrong step and you were deathclaw chow.

“God, more, please!”

And there went the silence. Cooper’s eye twitched; his lipless mouth sneered at the screeches.

Whoever had taken up residence in room five was making the most of their money — an hour straight of screams and moans, an hour straight of Lucy pretending to read. She’d picked up a holotape at the last outpost they’d stopped at; something about a sequel she’d always wanted to continue reading.

By the second hour, it wasn’t so much that room five stopped fucking. But they at least got a lot quieter about it. The occasional shriek or moan rattled through the air vents, but it was far and few between.

Lucy lay across the double bed, her boots discarded beside the door. Her vault suit hung from the defunct radiator. Her washing was all done, and she’d freshened up, the usual Lucy shit. She’d helped herself to the water and changed into some pajama set she’d pilfered from a house a few days back.

“I think it’s nice,” Lucy said into the open air of the hotel room.

Cooper looked up from his shotgun, teeth bared like he was trying to smile. “The quiet?”

“No,” Lucy smiled at the wall between them and room five. “That people can find love, even now.”

Cooper couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. The cackles shook from low in his lungs and caught him so off-guard he hacked up some foul muck into his palm. He hissed through a wheezed breath as he fumbled with his RadAway puffer.

“I mean it! It’s not funny!”

“That ain’t love, Vaultie,” Cooper coughed out, his eyes narrowed as drool and tears mingled on his cheeks. He wiped his face, fine skin catching against the scarred, leathery mess. “That…” He pointed to the wall. “S’probably a whore and her John making the most of the caps.”

Lucy’s eyes darted as she picked apart what he’d said. “John..?”

“John’s a term for uh…” Cooper’s jaw strained against a smile, though it was far too cruel to be kind. “A guy who pays for sex.”

“Ah, wasteland slang,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it made sense she hadn’t caught on immediately.

“Old world slang,” Cooper corrected.

Lucy looked around the hotel room anew, like she’d finally caught on to what this place really was. She scooted to the edge of the bed, to sit with her legs angled towards him. “That woman at the front desk said you’d want a girl who’s old world — she thought I was a prostitute. ”

“Maybe.”

Lucy crossed her arms as if she had more to say on the matter. But then she remained quiet, uncharacteristically so.

“S’waste of caps.”

“Hiring me to have sex with you? Actually, I know all about sexual gratification, so I think it’d be a great use of money — caps.”

Cooper stared Lucy down as if he couldn’t parse what she’d just said. “Paying anyone money to fuck you is a waste.” Cooper tongued his lips apart. “Bullets. Meds. There’s shit worth paying for. Sex is — ”

“Important.”

“Sex ain’t worth much.”

“To you, maybe,” Lucy frowned. “It’s an act of love and intimacy, and… It’s how humanity continues, and it’s — fun if done well.”

“You wanna waste your caps on some cock?” Cooper snapped, his hand flapping at the door. “Be my guest.”

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t want to, but I’m saying that I… I think killing people is probably worse than sleeping with people for caps. If it’s to survive, I think it makes sense. Morally speaking.”

“Don’t,” Cooper snarled.

Cooper didn’t like how Lucy spoke to him most days, but this was a new, worse permutation. Her Vault-addled morality was sickening enough on its own, as she embodied whatever bullshit had been drip-fed to her by the company who’d bought her vault. Not that he was without sin, given the shit he’d done to survive this long.

But sex and love and all that shit was not front of mind. He needed to find his family and to know what happened to them. He didn’t need a two-cap blowjob from a stranger in the dim light of some bar. Though, in all honesty, his drug habit mixed with the amount of alcohol he’d drowned himself in, some nights got hazy.

There’s that animalistic, self-destructive part of him that won on his worst nights. The same part of him that kept him alive, the same part that let him do all the miserable shit he needed to do to survive.

But it’s certainly never been love. Not since Barb.

Never again, he’d wager.

"I had sex once," Lucy said this like it was a point of pride, now on her feet. She idled beside the bed, her gaze settled onto the empty space she’d been lying. "With my husband, but…" Her face twisted with this delayed amusement. She turned towards him, closing the gap between them.

Lucy’s eyes remained unfocused as she stared at the marked table between them, where his shotgun lay across a dirty cloth. "Does that make us both widows..? You said you have a family, right? So, you were probably married and had at least one kid. Not trying to presume, so tell me if I’m wrong, but… You said that in the observatory. That’s what you’re after."

Cooper parted his lips, a nasty tilt to his hairless brow.

Lucy gave a tight smile. "I was married. Only for a few hours, but… It was an arranged marriage, I didn’t meet him until the wedding. It turned out he was a raider from the surface posing as my match from Vault 32 and…" At this point, Lucy caught herself. “I feel for you, if you lost someone. That’s all.”

“You ain’t a widow.”

“Technically — ”

Cooper stood up, unable to stay seated. “You say you’re a widow like it’s a fact outta some book. The shit you went through — you’re an experiment gone wrong, not a damn widow,” Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy’s face twitched at his words as if she struggled to keep her smile. “Well, guess what? We’re all an experiment gone wrong, whether you’re in a vault or not.”

Cooper’s eyes twitched, narrowing in the dark of their hotel room. Room five was quiet, which made this moment all the worse. He didn’t like how she spoke about him, as if she knew what was happening in his mind. He wasn’t some wounded man looking for sympathy.

He wasn’t anything.

“Go back to your holotapes,” Cooper said with a jut of his chin. “You’ve been up here a few weeks, acting like you know how it is.”

“Well, I know we’ve all been screwed over by people hundreds of years ago, and I’m sorry if I’m not as beaten down by it as you, but — I’m just trying to share things with you, to…” Lucy struggled through her words, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “We don’t have to be friends, but we have to be — something.”

The couple in room five screeched. Cooper tensed out of habit but relaxed again when he reasoned what the noise was. It didn’t solve the fierce look on Lucy’s face as she stared him down, her fists clenched by her pajama-clad thighs.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Lucy said, shaking her damp hair out of her face. She stood idle by the table as if she had just realized she had stepped towards him in their argument. There was a bird-like shake to her chest, her heart and lungs quick beneath bone.

It was moments like this that made his nature crystalline to him — that thin line she couldn’t perceive of how easy it’d be to string her up by the ankles and bleed her dry. Of how easy it’d be to slide into that ache for warm flesh between his teeth and blood down his throat.

Ghouls aren’t welcome in most settlements for a reason, and Lucy is too damn optimistic to learn that lesson.

Cooper tongued the inside of his cheek, and his teeth gnashed at the frayed edge of his lip. “We have to be something, huh?”

Lucy’s brow twitched, and her jaw strained as she tried to stand taller. She nodded as something like hope softened her stern expression.

It wasn’t hard to close the gap. It was even easier to grab that ponytail she always wore and yank her head close, fist tight in her hair as he brought her close. Her hand scrabbled against the table, and nails dug into the wood as their eyes met.

“Don’t you ever talk about my family again,” Cooper said, his voice level. “We clear?”

Lucy’s breathing redoubled, but she nodded. Her nostrils flared as he let her go with a firm shove. There was a real sense of satisfaction as he felt her perception of him shift as if she’d forgotten she was dealing with a monster rather than a man. As if the rotted skin and exposed tensions, or the gaping hole where his nose had once been, weren’t enough warning.

Pretty girls in Hollywood were overlooked as much in his time — all in the name of survival in a race that no one really won. You took your part and played it until the work dried up. Then, you prayed for sponsorships, deals, and other things to spare you from the real world.

He watched it with co-stars, time and again. It wasn’t much different now, just less rhinestones and more rads.

#cooper howard #lucy maclean #fallout spoilers #fallout #vaultghoul #cooper x lucy #my writing

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knitmeapony · 1 year ago

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Look, I'm probably going to get a lot of shit for this but this show was all about breaking cycles.

Rebecca could have become another wealthy owner, utterly embittered, much more interested in hurting those around them to keep themselves up than to actually finding any happiness in the world. Instead she became her own person, found several families, embraced them all, and gave back in a way that helped most of them.

Nate could have learned that lashing out and repression were at least an outlet for his frustrations, he could have followed in Rupert's footsteps and become a miserable jackass. Instead by accepting the kindness and Grace of other people he started over, found love, and came home.

Keeley could have become a lot like her friend, never recognizing her inherent talents, slowly panicking as she aged, abandoned by the Machine by the time she was 30. She could have seen other women as enemies or at least combatants, but instead she found better friendship and mentorship and began to pass it on to others as she bettered her own life.

Roy's endless cycle of rage and hurting himself and pushing himself too hard to return could have literally killed him. He could have been like any number of Aging athletes whose life ends at 35. Instead he has a new career in a place that he loves, and he is finding ways to improve his mental health and open up.

Jamie could have been just another celebrity douchebag, possibly even sinking into the alcoholism that was taking his father. Just as much as keely, he was often seen as only as good as his physical fitness and his body, but he went back and read the books, he learned tactics, he learned to accept help and to give help and he became 10 times the man and 10 times the player that he was at the beginning. his career could have flamed out young but he got his second chance and he gave his father a second chance in turn.

And Ted, oh god Ted. his father made the ultimate selfish choice. He decided if he couldn't be perfect and he couldn't be everything he would be nothing. He would rather absent himself from his son's life then be there for him in whatever ways he could. Ted could have been happy in england. Ted could have had an incredible career. But Henry would not have had a father. How many times did people remind us that parents are responsible for the ways they fuck up their children during this show? Every other fucking episode, another way to point out that there are cycles of failure and frustration and psychological damage that get passed down from generation to generation. He broke that cycle, over and over. He didn't pin Michelle down into an unhappy marriage. They split up, and were both happier for it. He chose to put his son first, to not abandon him. He can have an incredible career anywhere in the world with a season like that. But he can't be in Henry's life the way he wants to be from six time zones away.

This isn't denigrating people who by necessity are long distance parents. But I would be willing to bet that if you asked any of those long distance parents if, given the choice, they would move back to be close to their kids? I'm willing to bet you pretty much every single one of them would say fuck yes, I want to hug them in the morning and tuck them in bed at night. I want to go to their soccer games and see their art shows.

Ted chose to be sincerely and honestly present in Henry's life. I don't think he's getting back with Michelle, he's not going back for a marriage. He's going home to be a father and I think his father would be proud.

#ted lasso

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ssivinee · 1 year ago

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✧In Control✧

Jam Republic! Kirsten Dodgen x Idol! F Reader: You were the famous soloist, Han Y/n, and held a complex reputation for yourself, but that doesn't stop Mnet from inviting you as a guest judge on Street Woman Fighter 2. You didn't know much about the foreign dancers, but this one caught your eye.

Word Count: 4.8k

Note: I toooootally didn't struggle while writing this🥲

Character Vision Board

Being in the limelight was always familiar territory to you. It was something you were always bound by due to your sister being one of the most notable actresses in the acting industry today. Your older sister, Han Sohee, had always been popular with everyone. Her authoritative and sophisticated qualities had everyone on their knees, adoring her existence. With releases like “My Name” and “Nevertheless” on Netflix, your sister has been recognized for her talents worldwide. You couldn’t have been more proud of your sister's mind-blowing career, always supporting it in any manner.

You, on the other hand, had your fame in the music field. The Han Y/n began as a soloist under Pnation and had a significant fanbase, mainly consisting of Sohee’s fangirls. Nevertheless, when you started releasing music, your career exploded with the sound of R&B you delivered. The public idolized your image, often calling you the “Predebut Han Sohee.” You had tattoos and piercings, had an extended wolf cut, loved partying, and had the tomboy style. It had the male public hating you and their girlfriends wanting you. Through your career with Pnation, you gained many friends who were also soloists in the industry, B.I. being one of them. During his time with YG, you always went to their concerts, ensuring your best friend knew you’d be right by his side no matter what.

If people didn’t believe in your bond before, the union was proven when you made an unexpected move. When B.I. left YG and decided to create the 131 Label, you quickly joined the company and collaborated with the fellow soloist. BTBT was a hit, not only in popularity, but the song was undeniably a banger, and you were honored to even be featured in it, even making an appearance in the music video.

But fame wasn’t always going to be in your favor. As an avid party girl, you fell into a hole of rumors and lies. You were in a scandal after almost every event, especially with female idols. So here you were again, with Hanbin and Sohee in your apartment, reading the statement your company had released, denying the accusations again. This time, it was with Blackpink’s Rose, as the public had seen you coming out of dinner together in Paris.

“I just can’t be friends with anyone nowadays.” You scoff, forehead in hand, and hear both chuckling at your issue. “You can’t blame the public, Y/n. Everyone is just in love with you,” your sister points out, and you roll your eyes. “Says you, unnie.”

“You should be used to this by now, noona,” Hanbin tells you with shrugging shoulders, and you can’t help but laugh. “I am, though! It seems like the public is the one who isn’t.” You were aware of your impression on the public, but it irritated you when they acted this way. But that was just part of your job, telling yourself that every single time a scandal happened. “Disregarding that for now, aren’t you excited about next week?” Hanbin asks you, and Sohee looks at him confusingly.

“I’m the guest judge for Street Woman Fighter,” you say in a calm timbre, and your sister’s eyes widen. “You gonna meet Jam Republic, Bebe, and Tsubakill?” You look shocked at your sister. “You knew who was on the show yet had no idea I’d be guesting next week?” Your teasing tone made your sister smack your arm, “I only saw clips, okay? But I’m excited for you!” She gets jumpy in her chair while Hanbin laughs at you, a face holding disgust as you watch your sister. “She can’t even be happy. She knows nothing about the international crews,” Hanbin points at you accusingly, and you just shake your head. “I can’t help it, okay? I only know 1Million because of Lia unnie.”

As the two of them argue with you and introduce the other crews to you, a set of girls were squealing in their hotel in another part of Seoul. The two youngest of Jam Republic watched on an iPad, and the three oldest sat there, watching them in slight worry. “Are they okay?” Ling whispers to the two, and Latrice laughs, “They’ve been obsessed with Han Y/n since they found out she’d be the next guest judge.”

“Han Y/n?” Kristen asks confusingly. Ling and Latirce can’t hold back the distress on their faces, “Yes, Kirs, THE Han Y/n.” Kristen shrugs at their words, “I don’t know her.” That’s when the two youngest hear this and let out a blaring gasp. “Girl, you have to listen to her music,” Audrey says, shoving her phone in the leader’s face. Kristen listened and was pleased to hear everything presented to her.

“Dude, she’s smoking hot, man,” Emma voices, and she relaxes more on the couch, thinking of seeing your face. Ling rolls her eyes at her, and Latrice smiles, finding Emma’s rare fangirling cute.

This intrigues Kirsten. Emma wouldn’t openly share things like that but had no hesitation regarding you.

Before the day came to the first start of the Kpop mission, Kirsten found herself having your songs on repeat, dancing to them when she had the time. Her crew observed her, loving her newfound liking for you. Well, not you specifically. The woman still had no idea about what you looked like, only ravishing over your music.

“She gonna be so surprised tomorrow,” Ling tells the group as they watch their leader dance in the studio, and everyone nods. “Agreed.”

Finally, it was time for your appearance on the show, and you made sure to be prepared for the first impressions you were about to have on most of the girls.

The ride there was quite eventful, though. Friends were blowing up your phone in anticipation of your presence on the show. So when you make your way into the building, you send a selfie to the group chat, showing the building's lobby. Everyone fans over the sight and asks you to take pictures with specific crews, and you laugh at their texts.

You go backstage and see the guest room that was prepared for you. As you sat in a chair, the team touched up your hair and makeup. “Oh Y/n-nim!” You hear and see Monika coming from the door. “Monika-saem! It’s nice to see you again,” she greets you with a side hug. “Are you ready for this?”

“I can’t deny I’m a little nervous,” you tell her as you anxiously move around in the chair. “You? Nervous? Never thought I’d hear that from you,” she jokes while patting your back. “I’m not known to be a dancer like that! I’m just worried about the public's opinion.” She then looks you dead in the eyes, “You know well that you shouldn’t be worried. The people will always love you, Y/n-ah. Besides, everyone knows you’re a talented dancer.”

“Thank you, unnie.” She nods at your appreciation and smiles. “Have you met Shownu yet?” You shake, “I met him during the Hero promotions a few years ago.” The male idol walks in as if right on queue, with 3 caramel iced coffees in his hand. “I heard my name?”

“Of course you did. With your sonic hearing,” you say, making the two judges laugh. He hands you the coffee, and you thank him. “Dude, you’re gonna be so hyped when you see them all dance.” Your brow raises at his statement, “Now you're raising my expectations too high. They might blame you if I’m too harsh on them.”

“You can’t even be too harsh. They’re all professionals. I'm sure they’ll be to your standards.” Monika points out, and Shownu nods. Everyone starts getting ready, and when it's time to announce you, you hear Daniels' voice ringing in your ears. “Today, as your guest judge for the Kpop mission, we have Korean-American solo artist Han Y/n.”

You walk out onto the stage's walkway, bowing at everyone as you walk to your seat. Emma and Audrey could be seen jumping up and down, hugging each other when seeing you in person. Ling and Latrice, on the other hand, felt a sense of comfort when they heard that you're also American. They blindly trusted you, hoping you wouldn’t be so biased amongst the Korean crews.

Kirsten was the only one who stood in that room, frozen, when you walked in. She knew to predict someone attractive since the girls fangirled over your face for the entire week, but she wasn't expecting this. You looked like you were built by the gods. All she wanted to do was get on her knees and thank them.

“Wah~ Everyone’s right when they say she's every girl's type.” 1Million Redy says in awe of you.

“She’s so pretty, what the heck?”

“You think I can get a picture after?”

All the crews cheered and gossiped at your appearance, admiring your appearance.

“Hello, I’m soloist Han Y/n. Please take care of me,” you bow and introduce yourself in Korean, English, and Japanese to the teams. “I’d love to take care of you,” Kirsten mumbles under her breath, but Latrice hears the words, giggling at the sight of her leader, who looked like she was about to drool because of you. “Kirs, pull yourself together.”

“I can’t help it, like are we looking at the same person?” Kirsten dramatically sighed, and the girls teased. “Maybe you should ask her for help later~.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to help you,” Ling gazes at her leader with a wink. “Alright, please pay attention and stop bullying me,” they all laugh, and your eyes find their way to the sound. “The Kpop mission has everyone fighting against each other with songs under the 4 companies: HYBE, JYP, SM, and YG.”

You relax in the chair, manspreading a little as Daniel continues, “2 of the 4 companies have a three-way tie and will battle it out here in the fight zone. The crew with the most votes will have to choose a different company to work with.” You nod in understanding. As much as Kirsten would like to say she was listening, she watched your loosened stance on the chair. You looked so fine just sitting there, and Kirsten bit her lips at the sight of you. She was a sucker for piercings and tattoos, which you did have, but her eyes lingered on your arms. Your veins could be seen popping out as they rested comfortably on your chest, and your lap looked like the perfect seat for her. “We’ll start off today with HYBE. Jam Republic, you're up first,” Daniel announces, pulling Kristen out of her unholy thoughts.

The girls get up from their seats, stretching more, “Should we just go for it?” She asks her team, and everyone nods, “Yeah, let's go.”

The girls stood before the judges as some other crews stayed beside them to enjoy the front view. Your eyes travel from every girl on the team until you stop at the leader. “Kirsten Dodgen, huh?” You whisper, remembering everything Hanbin and Sohee told you about the girl. How she was the famous “green shirt girl” in Justin Beiber’s “Sorry” music video and how she was part of the mega crew, the Royal Family. With this information in mind, your eyes never left hers as they performed.

When holding the starting pose, Kirsten feels the weight of your gaze, feeling her hands gradually sweat. The music begins with Le Seraphim's track starting them off, and regardless of how nervous you make the girl, she shows you every cent of confidence she has. Her hips moved swiftly like water, and you can’t help but bite your lip at the sight. She could really move, you admit to yourself. The afro-dance was evident in how she carried herself, the rhythm similar to the choreography of BTBT, which led to your body feeling uncontrollable. Swaying to the way they moved.

“Well, we know who Y/n would’ve voted for,” Mina Myoung quips as all the crews watch you enjoy their performance. “Dope” by BTS begins to blare on the speakers, and their groove switches to Hip-Hop. Audrey put a smile on your face with her facial expressions and nearing the end, when the finale consisted of the little twist their waist did with an added reverb effect, you toss your hands up with a clap, “That was nasty,” you told Shownu who nods in agreement.

Mannequeen then took the stage, and once again, everyone had high energy as they watched. The same could be said for DeepNDap. Still, once people saw the votes, everyone felt the intensity of the room when seeing DeepNDap lost by a landslide compared to the two other crews. “That’s gotta burn,” you mumble.

Next was the JYP battle, and Tsubakill went first. Your attentiveness shows with the scary look in your eyes, but you get hyped up when Tsubakill uses their shirts as a prop, clapping at the scene. Then, Team Bebe joined the stage, and it was phenomenal. You shouldn’t have felt any anxiety or nervousness since you thoroughly enjoyed each performance, especially when Bada is revealed through the imitation of double doors. You smirk at the sight, finding it quite enticing to look at.

“Another heart stealer, huh?” You tell Shownu, who chuckles at your words. While you watch, Kirsten notices the look you give team Bebe. “Looks like someone likes team Bebe as well,” and the team looks at you. “I don’t blame her,” Audrey shrugs, and Emma laughs, “Everyone’s in love with Bada as well. They’re like a match made in heaven.”

Kirsten's chest tightens at her members' words. You surely weren't interested in the taller dancer...right?

“Kirs? You good?” Latrice asks, and she nods, not wanting to expose herself, but Emma catches on quickly. “I think Kirs may have a slight problem,” the second youngest teases the leader, and the younger girl points at Bada. “She may have some competition.” Kirsten rolls her eyes at the girls as they snicker around her. Because of their noises, your attention goes to them. You see the frustration on the girl's face, and it makes you smile. She looked so adorable with a pout on her face. This causes you to barely watch the 1Million stage.

“I hope whatever song we get, we’ll do good.”

“We’re always good guys. As long as we try our best, that’s all that matters.” You hear from the dancer and nod to yourself, her words also resonating with you. When the votes came in, Tsubakill had zero votes, and you gasped. Everyone must’ve really liked the dance if they had no votes. So when each group is presented with their company of choice, everyone begins practicing.

You began walking around, handing bottles to each team and chatting with them. Your first few stops were DeepNDap, Lady Bounce, Mannequeen, and Wolf’Lo, and then you make it to the trendiest crew on the show.

“Hello~,” you said, bowing to the girls of team Bebe. They all look at you with terrified eyes. You chuckle at this, “Here, I don’t bite,” you tell them as you hand the water bottles, everyone thanking you. “You didn’t have to, Y/n-nim,” the blonde, Tatter, says, but you shake your head. “It’s the least I can do for you guys.”

You straighten your shirt and ask, “Do you guys have anything yet?” “Yeah, we have a bit for the chorus,” Bada says, and you settle in the dance studio a bit more, sitting on the floor in front of them. “Can I get a sneak peek?” They all nod excitedly, and you hide a giggle, finding the younger girls cute. They play Maniac by Stray Kids from the chorus, and your smile grows when you see the blonde being dragged with her team walking, almost like robots, beside her. When finished presenting, you stand up, clapping your hands. “I can’t wait to see the final product, girls.” They bow, most covering their face in happiness. “You're leading your team well. I can tell your chemistry is strong,” you say as you pat Bada’s arms. “Thank you, Y/n,” she smiles, and you head out. “Okay, good luck, guys! I’m gonna bring more water for the other teams.”

Then your next stop is 1Million, and you enter their rehearsal room with a cheesing grin. “Lia-unnie~,” you say, walking towards her to hug her. You had worked with Lia in a previous comeback and were close friends with her. She made the entire process enjoyable for you. You always kept that in mind since it was stressful, and you appreciated her guidance. “Y/n-ah,” she says softly, reciprocating the loving hug. “I brought all you guys water,” you tell them, showing the bag filled with bottles.

They thank you, and you watch them practice a little, and you can tell Lia is stressed the entire time. So once they took a break, you approached her, giving her a piece of candy. “Here, don’t be too hard on yourself, unnie,” you say, patting the older’s shoulder. “I can’t help it, Y/n. Everyone has high expectations for me here.” You nod, understanding the pressure she felt. “That doesn’t matter. You’re one of the greatest choreographers out there. I’m sure you’ll make it past this unnie,” you try and reassure her, and she tells you to get going so they can practice. You mumble fine and move along to your next destination.

Tsubakill. The girls were so concentrated on practicing they didn’t even notice your arrival in their room. “Hello?” You question in Japanese, and they jump in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you all,” you chuckle at their reactions.

“I’m here to just deliver some water, and I’ll be out of your way,” they gratefully accepted the water bottles but were curious. “Your Japanese is really good. Where did you learn?” Their youngest, Rena, questions you.

“Aye~ I’m not that good. But I wanted to learn for my Japanese fans to communicate with them when promoting.” A series of ‘ah’s could be heard. “That does make sense.”

“Anyways, I don’t think you guys need any of my feedback right now, so I’ll leave you all to it,” you wave off and end with the final team you were anticipating. You searched for them in every room but finally found them practicing on the walkway area on the second floor.

Your eyes linger on the team, not wanting to distract them while they do a draft take of their dance. That's when your gaze lands on Kirsten as she leads her team, “So when we do this swing part, I want both of you to kind of mimic the movement,” she tells Ling and Latrice, who automatically follow her lead, taking the critiques into account.

“Hey,” you voice out, and everyone stares at you, not knowing what to say. “Um… I brought you guys some water,” you say in English, and they smile. “Thanks,” Kirsten tells you, and you give a curt nod, “It’s no problem.”

“You guys are insane, by the way,” you say as you tilt your head to the side. “I hope you guys don’t mind if I watch your practice for a bit.”

“Of course not, by all means. Just try and get comfortable,” she gives you a wink with a teasing grin, and your head falls back due to her gesture. This girl was gonna be trouble for you. You travel to a chair in the corner and watch as the practice goes on, eyes never leaving Kirsten's figure.

Your head spins at how she moves, finding her body rousing to witness. That was until they made it to the next series of parts. Kirsten had to shake her hips, but somehow, it wasn’t up to the quality of your liking. You raise your hand, and the crew notices, “Yes, Y/n?” “Sorry, but when you move your hips, you can exaggerate more.”

“Can you show us what you mean?” Latrice presses on, and you make your way over to Kirsten. You towered behind their leader, and your hands traveled down her hips. Position her into the move and put pressure on your hands as you take control of her lower half. Kirsten’s mind was out of focus when she felt your strong, veiny hands touching her. “I know you can move those hips, girl, so how about we put them to work?” You question in her ear, and she has a devious grin. “Show me then.”

Her team watches as you rotate her hips with the touch of your hands, and they can’t help but giggle on the sidelines. “She took asking for help way too seriously,” Audrey whispers, and the rest nod with their fits of giggles.

You two feel a rhythm despite no music, and Kirsten’s heart fastens as you caress her waist. “Shit, you- you are so beautiful,” you mumble but make sure she heard it, and her face reddened. She shakes her head, straightens, and claps at her team, “Alright, thank you, Y/n, but we have to do some more choreo to be in top shape in 2 days.” You stand there a bit surprised, which follows a soft laugh at her crappy excuse. “Okay, okay. I’ll just watch a bit more.” You sat back in your chair, watching them more freely this time as they did their work.

After an hour, you look at the phone and decide it is an excellent time to head home, but talk to the girls before leaving. “Are you guys free tomorrow?” “I believe so, why?” Kirsten asks, and you hand your phone over to her, “I thought it would be a good idea to bring all the crews out for a relaxing night. I was gonna rent out the VIP section of a club before you guys performed.”

The girls all jump in excitement while Audrey sulks, and you pat her head, “I know you're too young, Audrey, but I’ll plan a dinner with everyone just for you.” Her eyes brighten at your promise as she hugs you. “Okay, don’t kill the woman now, Audrey,” Ling tells the youngest, and everyone laughs. Kristen puts her number in, and you grin, “Okay, good luck with practice, girls. I’ll chat with you later, Kristen,” you point at her, and she waves you off seductively.

“Kirs is down bad right now.”

“Stand up, girl,” Emma jokes, and the leader rolls her eyes at the team.

The next day, every girl was preparing for the long night ahead, and Audrey watched her team as they frantically ran around their hotel room. “You guys look good in anything,” the youngest says, but everyone pays no mind. “This is what I get for trying to be nice,” she mumbles, but Emma hears it and laughs. “They stressed Auds. What can we do,” Emma says with a shrug.

After an hour, all the girls were ready, and Kirsten revealed her outfit. She had a pleated denim skirt, a pale yellow halter top, and white mini-heels. The leader's hair looked slightly slicked back, and it tied everything together. “Ooo~, who are you about to show out for?” Ling taunts and Kirs has a light smirk on her face, “You already know, girl.”

The girls squeal in eagerness, “So we ready to go?” The older three nod and Audrey walks them out, “Be safe, and don’t come home too late.” The older girls hug her goodbye and travel to the club by Uber. You had sent the leader the details, and she was incredibly excited when you said, “I can’t wait to see you there, beautiful.” It caused her so much happiness the entire day that she couldn’t sit still.

Once the four entered the club, they were escorted to the VIP area on the second floor, overlooking the crowds who cheered for Y/n and the other crews. You sat at the bar, Lia and Bada by your side, with a dark-colored drink in hand. Kristen halts when she sees you. Your attendance wakes her up as she notices every detail about you.

Kirsten wanted to tell you how delicious you looked, but just for the sake of her pride, she greets the other girls instead before getting to you. Bada points at the foreign crew, making you look at them, and a coy grin forms on your face. The Jam Republic crew began to split up, talking to multiple other teams, and you made your way over to Kristen, who sat with some of the Mannequeen girls.

“I’m glad you could make it,” you say, handing her a drink of soju, as you weren’t really familiar with her type of alcohol. She thanks you and sips the beverage, “I’d never say no to a party and having fun.”

“I don’t either, but I was kinda excited for this one,” You voiced in a playful tone, and Kirsten smirked, deciding to play along. “Oh yeah? Why is that?” Your body bends down to her ear, and she feels your breath tickling her as you breathe out, “It means I get to see you more.”

The shorter girl’s breathing becomes unsteady at the close distance. Still, Kirsten's exact flirtatious nature wouldn’t make that obvious. You take her hand and lead her to the bar, “Is there something you prefer to drink?” “Coke and rum would be nice,” and your eyebrows go up at this. “My type of girl,” You tell her calmly, ordering the drink as a blush forms on her cheeks. “So, the green shirt girl in Justin Bieber’s music video?” Kristen lets out a burst of laughter at your random question.

“You went viral all those years ago, and I never knew who you were? I’m so out of touch with internet culture,” you shared, your head hanging low with a chuckle. “It’s fine. I was also seventeen then, so you probably wouldn’t even recognize me.”

“SEVENTEEN?” You inquisitively ask, and she nods. “Well, you grew up into a fine young woman, if I say so myself,” you tell her as you take a swig of alcohol. “You say that as if you’re much older than me,” Kirsten looks at you with a questioning face. “Hey, 3 years is quite some time, okay?” You point out, both of you letting out a laugh.

“How about you? I don’t know how you got into dancing,” She says truthfully, and you think. “It hasn’t been that long since I started. Compared to you guys, I’m pretty mediocre at best.” Now, that statement, Kirsten knew, was a lie. “That’s definitely not true,” She says, and you look at her curiously. “How would you know?”

“Or else you wouldn’t have been a judge on the show,” She explains. The truth was, she had watched some of your dancing videos throughout the years, but why would she want to expose herself in front of you. “That’s true, I guess.” You were about to continue, but another song started, and the whole club cheered. Kirsten’s eyes brightened at the song, and she pulled you to the dance floor, “Come on, let’s dance!” She says, trying to yell over the loud music.

Once the two of you were on the dance floor, you felt the mixture of sweaty bodies and the wafting scent of alcohol that clung to everyone’s bodies. That didn’t matter to either of you, though, as Kirsten confidently whines her waist to the beat. Your eyes study her with hunger, finding every curve of her body moving to the rhythm. Your self-control defeats you as you grasp her waist, and Kristen feels the warmth of your hands. She moves back, grinding her ass on your body, and you wrap one arm around her waist as you motion in sync. The shorter applies more pressure on your pelvis, and you can’t help but let out a subtle groan in her ear, finding her irresistible. The halter top didn’t cover much, and you wanted to touch every part you could, skimming over her chest as if her skin begged to be marked.

She turns around, arms wrapping around your neck, closing the distance between you two, if possible. Now you felt her chest beating on yours, your forehead resting on each other. Her eyes linger on your lips, and you notice, when bitting your lips, that she lets out giggles of expectation. You adored the charming sounds, and your lips chased hers, and you felt the buzz of her lips on yours. The taste of sweetness from the alcohol lingered on her tongue as they mingled harmoniously. Hearing the soft whimpers encourages you to pull her waist tighter, hand leading lower and lower on her body. You pull away, trying to catch your breath as you mumble to her, “You think you’ll be able to dance if I take you home tonight?”

“I’ll make it work,” She mumbles, pulling you in again. The kiss felt heated as her hands roam around your toned figure, “Besides, I told you I want to have fun tonight.” You smirk at her words and pull her out of the club, ensuring you made it worth her while tonight.

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#kristen dodgen x reader #kristen dodgen #kristen #jam republic x f reader #jam republic #jam republic x reader #swf #street woman fighter x fem reader #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader #wlw #gxg #ssivinee

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hazyange1s · 5 months ago

Text

Enshrouded

Summary: (abbreviated from the ao3 version because this baby is long enough 😂) MC is an Auror seeking refuge from the arduous nature of her everyday life, and finds it in a secret wizarding club hidden in London; where she has an unforgettable encounter with a strangely familiar, masked man.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC / Reader

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ MINORS DNI. — p in v, oral (f and m receiving), drug/alcohol use, semi-public, anonymous, little bit rough but nothing too crazy, mentions of violence/blood (mc just really LOVES her job lmao), lots of adult language oop, aged up characters (everyone is in their early 20’s)

Word count: 7.3k

A/N: this idea came to me in a dream… nah jk it came to me while watching Bridgerton (go figure). Started writing it months ago and after much self-doubt I present baby’s first published filth 💀

read here on Ao3 🌹

It was the mystery. She had long suspected that was what kept her going back for more, time and time again.

The risk of it all was enticing too, of course, but more than anything, she loved a damn good mystery. One complex and intricate, one that took time and effort to unravel. As an Auror, well, her life was chock full of such simple delights.

Regrettably, there wasn’t much joy to be had in solving the cases slapped on her desk by the Chief Auror - any satisfaction in making an arrest was often muddied by the names of the victims left behind. So she often sought out milder (but just as potent) forms of that heady adrenaline rush in order to scratch the itch - and her absolute favorite was Reverie. Unassuming enough as names go, and the facade would lead you to think so, too: its uniform brick painted a dingy gray just like every other shopfront along the shadowed, misty cobblestone of Knockturn Alley.

If any of her coworkers found out she frequented such a spot …oh, she’d never hear the end of it. Worse than that, her Chief might even believe such behavior warranted suspension; as wanton impropriety from a well known Ministry employee would bring her morals into question. Likely, she’d get an earful about the utter shame it would bring upon the Ministry itself if she were spotted.

But that was the glorious thing about Reverie: the moment you stepped through its doors, you became somebody else.

Or, rather, no one at all.

Attendance was by invitation only; delivered anonymously while the recipient slept soundly in their bed (certainly disconcerting, but how could she complain?). No letter, just a silken black mask.

Donning the disguise allowed its wearer to see past the heavy glamor placed on the building and step inside - without being apprehended by one of the black-clad guards on watch. Yet the mask’s hidden talents didn’t end there. It was the club’s signature secret: while it was true they merely framed the eyes, each mask contained a glamor of their own that completely concealed one’s identity - whether or not someone would recognize them without it.

(You could be staring into the face of your best friend and would never know it.)

Which, incidentally, was expressly forbidden inside the club’s boundaries (one of very few rules, mind); as strict anonymity was what kept the underground facility running, despite the fact that the Ministry remained attuned to the whispers of a taboo venue boasting all manners of rampant debauchery right under their noses.

Still, the sorcery that offered Reverie protection had held true for well over five years, and its owners were more than dedicated to ensuring it was always so.

Most well-versed and connected members of English wizarding society had at least indulged in rumors of an alternative establishment hidden in the city. They traded whispers of what horrors may lurk behind those gray walls - dark magic and blatant impropriety and dangerous indulgences…

They couldn’t be more right.

The air was already thick with the tang of whiskey and rank with perspiration by the time she arrived an hour after its Friday opening. With each step she took through the meandering crowd, heels clicking on the marble floors, curling smoke in every shade imaginable wafted around the room and blissfully chased away the odor with frankincense and mallowsweet.

But she hadn’t come for the medicinals tonight, tempting as they were after a week that had left her emptier than the glasses long ago abandoned by drunken patrons. Not even a goblet of Merlot or a shot of coffee liqueur (with a splash of cream) could chase away what ailed her.

No, tonight she sought only one means of release, and needed nothing but the tension simmering in her blood as fuel for the fire driving her to desperation.

Nights at Reverie were not for the faint of heart (or stomach), nor the chaste and mild. While technically not allowed in open spaces, more than half of the attendees usually found themselves with a partner by dawn; in one of the many private back rooms or curtained-off alcoves - or dark corners, even.

After all, what did they have to lose when the strings of your identity weren’t a factor?

Usually she’d been content to let the men and women come to her, and admittedly there hadn’t been a shortage of such… entanglements in the three months since she’d received her own mask.

But the time for coy shyness and drawn out flirtation was long gone. Leaning against one of the wall-to-floor Grecian columns at the edge of the room, she simply tossed back her hair and began to scan it for potential prey.

There was a generous sample size, it was true. A tall, lithe gentleman whose hair shone like spun gold, a flawlessly curved woman with rich brown skin, a broad redhead sporting a wide grin…

No, no, and no… none of them are just right.

She huffed with restrained frustration, tapping her foot to the string music playing a haunting melody that seemed to fill every space in the curved underground.

You know there’s only one person you wanted to find here tonight.

Perhaps she’d have to lower her standards - beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

“There you are.”

Gasping, she pressed a palm to her satin covered chest, which heaved beneath the boning of her - possibly too tight - corset at the unexpected greeting. But what truly robbed her of breath until she was penniless… oh, gods.

They’d answered her prayers after all: the man standing behind her with a luminous grin was precisely the one she’d been hoping to see.

A regular, as luck would have it. She’d spotted him in attendance more often than not, but had never had the courage to approach (mainly due to the slew of witches and wizards who got to him first).

With her attraction being largely from afar, she’d assumed that his lack of…well, anything - other than a single dance lasting no more than five minutes - had meant he was uninterested. Though the smile he wore was genuine, not like the mask framing his dark eyes, and it sparked in the dim lighting cast from candelabras around the wide room.

“Here I am…?” She quirked a brow questioningly, hand lowering to her hip. “But, er, you must be mistaken. I’m not sure I’m the person you’re looking for.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you are.” His chuckle was somehow more musical than the quartet filling the air and more rough than smooth, but exquisitely rich - as was the material of his dark vest and the deep gray collared shirt rolled above his elbows.

“On account of the fact that I’d know that particular dress anywhere. We’ve never been properly introduced, as I recall.”

“You recall correctly.” She smiled - maybe coy was still in the cards, if only to spend more time with this handsome stranger.

“I suppose that’s frowned upon here really, so…I believe there’s a better way we could become acquainted, if you’d be amenable.”

She had to be impressed with his wanton confidence, if nothing else…though she got the sense there were many rather impressive things about him. Even more arresting was the boldness of his touch; broad hands reaching for hers to bring to his supple lips, where they lingered for a moment before releasing her gently.

Alright. He knew what he was doing.

But she had to play just a touch hard to get - if only to give him a taste of what he’d been dishing out for months (intentionally or otherwise). He’d been playing coy after their first and only real interaction; shooting her little winks and whispered hellos on random nights - only to disappear again amongst the all-black crowd without giving her a chance to respond.

Likely, he’d been going off to find some other witch or wizard for entertainment.

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, a knowing smile playing on her own red-painted lips. “I don’t recall meeting you at all. Your face has a similar quality to many men here, you see.”

“Ah, somehow I doubt that.” Darkness collected in his dimples (how had she not noticed them before?)

“Saturday, precisely two months ago to the day, you were dancing in my arms wearing a red dress like you have on right now.” His voice was like honey and velvet as he spoke. With each word, he seemed to get closer.

And yes, of course she remembered. She was just surprised he still did.

It’s why she’d been stuck with a ridiculous, schoolgirl infatuation for weeks now; why she’d worn red each and every night in the hopes of catching his attention once more.

The brief escapades she’d busied herself with in the meantime had done in a pinch, but there was something about him she was positively dying to unravel. Perhaps it was the spark in those deep brown eyes - like the dark liquor she favored- that spoke of depths hidden far below the playful, self-assured surface.

Or maybe it was how he smelled from mere inches away, as he was now: pine, sandalwood, and a spicy scent akin to the smoke furling around him like a haze of fog.

“You’ve got quite the memory.” She mused, unable to stop her smile from bursting into full bloom. “I suppose that does ring a bell— you trodded on my foot.”

He groaned. “I’d had a lot of whiskey that night. I’m usually much more coordinated when sober. In fact…”

His fingers slid up her wrist, moving with slow caresses up her arm and shoulder until they came to rest beneath her jaw, angling it up to align with his gaze.

“Is it too presumptuous of me to ask…if you’d let me make it up to you?”

For a moment - just a breath, she hesitated. And why? This was exactly what she’d come for tonight, and with the man she’d lusted over for ages now falling right into her lap… what sort of woman would refuse?

It was something unidentifiable, intangible. A tug on her gut. Something that flashed in the white of his smile as it caught the candlelight. Like a sense of deja vu; there one second and gone the next, leaving her with nothing but the old itch crawling beneath her flushed skin.

“Presumptuous, certainly. But not unwelcome. Everyone deserves a second chance.” She purred, squaring her shoulders and allowing him to guide her to the edge of the room with one palm flat on her lower back.

What she’d expected was to be whisked away to one of the rooms tucked away in the back; filled with four poster beds and velvet curtains and enough firelight to be a safety hazard. Instead, he brought her up to the bar, catching the attention of its immaculately suited (and masked) tender with a wave of his finger. The movement distracted her while he ordered Merlin-even-knew what. She found herself watching the way his fingers curled and wrist turned with each gesture made, his palms visibly calloused - perhaps he had seen his fair share of combat, too - and the backs of his knuckles covered in freckles.

She had to wonder what constellations might be found if she dared to uncover the rest of him.

A glint of gold caught the light, mercifully returning her attention on the smiling eyes of the man who had taken to slipping a glass of red wine between her fingers.

“Shall we toast?” He asked, tilting his chin up in the direction of the raised goblet.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To…” his lips pursed thoughtfully. (Another startlingly distracting body part.) How pink and supple they looked, and how good they would taste when stained with burgundy…

“Liberation.“

Fitting, indeed.

“Santé.” She touched her chalice to his without breaking the meeting of their eyes.

“Slainte.”

The cloying bitterness of Merlot coated her tongue, filling her stomach with warmth - a taste she hadn’t encountered for years. One she missed dearly.

“How’d you know I’d like Merlot?” She licked wine from her bottom lip.

He spoke at the same time; thick brows arched high. “You’re French?”

They laughed, the sounds winding together into a hypnotic sort of harmony.

“You first.” He inclined his head.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m simply fluent in the language.” She couldn’t give away any secrets, not even the place of her birth.

“That accent was flawless. Nobody but a native could articulate like that.”

She shook her head coyly, though not without amusement.

“Fine.” A sigh that seemed almost long-suffering stirred the smoke coiling around them. “I prefer my women with a bit of mystery, anyway. As for your question, darling…”

Oh, he was a rogue through and through. His eyes greedily swept over every inch of her gown to settle on the curves and shapes he seemed to appreciate most before he even deigned to finish.

“It’s… bold. Much like you, if you don’t think me too audacious for saying so.”

He paused to take another sip, savoring the act of licking his lips as she had moments ago, and almost smugly noting her obvious interest. “And I’ve obviously noticed you enjoy the color red, even if that part’s a bit on the nose.”

“You could say that.” Her heart fluttered traitorously into her throat. His undivided and enthusiastic attention was not only a welcome surprise, but a conflicting one. It wouldn’t do to fall for a masked man - in the end, they could never truly know each other beyond the four walls that brought them together.

Reverie. A dream - that’s all. You’ll wake up in the morning.

She straightened her shoulders, resolved and refortified. “And do you? Enjoy the color, that is?”

Her voice was low, only audible due to the minute distance between them, the man tilting his head down towards her as one finger grazed the dip of her neckline.

“What’s not to love?” He mused. “Red represents… vitality. Danger. Passion…”

Her skin prickled in the wake of the trail he drew from collar to shoulder and down her arm, and when it found her free hand, their fingers threaded together with such ease that they could have done it a thousand times before.

He could hear her heart, couldn’t he? With that amount of surety behind his stare, there was no doubt she was being read like an open book.

“That’s why we keep coming back here, isn’t it?” He was near enough now that every word was felt as a cloud of heat gracing her wine-flushed cheeks.

“Because we relish danger, and need passion like air. We all come to feel… alive.”

“Hmm. It’s almost as if you prepared that line beforehand.” She laughed.

His was such a beautiful sound, bubbling like champagne and leaving her with a warm feeling as if she’d tasted it herself.

“Let’s say I did… is it working?”

”Absolutely.”

Whatever spell had allowed them to maintain a sense of decorum shattered after that confirmation, which said so much more than was spoken aloud. The look exchanged between them was another conversation in itself; a volley of traded questions and answers that sent pure lightning skittering up her spine.

“Come with me.” He said abruptly (though not without a dutiful incline of his head; dark hair shining with veins of red in the candlelight) before tugging her away from the bar, where their drinks were hastily abandoned.

It seemed he was just as content to curse restraint, pulling her along with such haste that she tripped on her skirts (more than once) - evidently forgetting his longer legs and her tall heels as she bumped into a distracted patron that was left with a spilled drink, a scowl, and a breathless apology she didn’t quite mean.

They paused at the mouth of the corridor tucked in the back. It was lined with nothing but identical doors of deepest mahogany: some tightly shut, some cracked, and others yet wide open.

The meaning behind each was simple enough: shut meant “do not disturb”, cracked meant “listen or join, if you dare”, and wide open meant “vacant”. The wizard gave her a boyish grin as they all but stumbled to a stop in front of one that remained ajar and beckoned with soft golden light from the candles within.

“What are you waiting for?” She panted.

Without waiting on so much as a blink, her hand fisted in the crisp white of his button down, guiding him through the threshold before the slam of wood against the frame echoed in the empty chamber.

“A witch who knows what she wants, I see.” He chuckled, his hands needing no invitation to wind around her waist until their bodies molded at each curve.

“Well, you’ve been taunting me for a while, haven’t you?”

She took advantage of her hold on his clothes, forgoing the ease of simply waving her wand when she could take the opportunity to feel every inch of skin she revealed by releasing the buttons on his shirt.

Freckled - just as she’d suspected, and with a neat nest of dark hair over the swell of his pectorals that her palms begged to rest on.

“Wait, wait.” He huffed, hands coming to halt hers before they had time to slide the heavy coat from his shoulders.

“No - not wait as in stop -“ he’d seen the crease between her brows. “Wait, as in… slow down.”

”You seemed rather impatient a minute ago when you were dragging me through the place.” She said wryly.

“Impatient to get you alone, yes.” His knuckle grazed her cheek gently, reverently studying what little of her face he was able to see.

“But…” It was as transient as a ghost, at first. A phantom of touch over the swell of her lip, and then firmer as his thumb outlined the shape. “I’d very much like to kiss you first. May I?”

That he even asked such a question - let alone made his intentions to savor the night clear - was enough to poke another hole in her notions of a one-night affair. What if she couldn’t stand to never have this man again when it was over?

Well… there was always the luxury of dreams.

“Yes, of course.” She whispered.

She’d been right earlier - the taste of wine clung to the corners of his mouth, somehow even sweeter when combined with a hint of peppermint cooling the sharp breath he took the moment their lips fit together effortlessly. Her tongue sought to part them in search of the buzz that the alcohol couldn’t take credit for; finding his and groaning with delight as he melted into her.

A soft tug on her scalp announced the presence of his fingers as they threaded through strands of hair with the sole purpose of eliminating any and all space between them. Eagerly he rolled their tongues together, smearing the red painted on her lips across his chin.

They only paused to share a breath that left her dizzy. The sight of his skin stained with rouge was more beautiful than any art piece hanging on the tapestried walls - and there would be more colors adorning it by the end of the night, if she had anything to say about it.

“Now…” The brunet exhaled when they broke apart, lips brushing with each word. “Now, you can take off my clothes.”

No need to tell her twice.

His vest slumped to the floor, giving her leave to continue her work on that long trail of buttons ending at the waist of his trousers. Before long it, too, was little more than a rag at their feet. When she was privy to every square inch of his bare torso, her hands took liberties to caress the panes of his chest, marveling without shame.

“If you’ll allow me the honor, I’d like to even the score.” His voice was near a husk as he watched her intently.

No complaints arose (alright, perhaps one — when he spun her around; effectively depriving her of the ability to keep touching him) as the skilled wizard sought the eye hooks at the back of her bodice, dexterous fingers releasing each one with a snap that seemed to echo. All the while his mouth found her skin - tongue laving over her throat, teeth nipping where it met her shoulder to plant a bloom of deepest red.

“Mmm… keep doing that.” She hummed appreciatively, head lolling to the side.

“You don’t mind if I leave you a few reminders to find in the morning?” He chuckled. By then, he’d succeeded in freeing her of the constricting garment, tossing it to the carpet by the fire before he started to untie her skirt.

“Not at all.”

”Good,” another kiss, just below her ear this time. “Because I want to be able to see that it’s still there next time we meet.”

If he wasn’t careful, she’d start to think he already had plans to do this again.

She didn’t wait for him to move her this time; taking control back once she was only clad in her underthings by going for the buttons holding up his bottoms. Oddly enough, her fingers took on a tremulous quality - one she’d rarely (if ever) experienced in an intimate moment since her very first.

He seemed to adopt a similar growing impatience that made him forgo the back and forth to slip the sleeves of her chemise down, guiding the garment over her figure.

”Gods, you’re a vision.” He groaned and reached for the curve of her waist, feeling out the shape only to travel upwards until he could cup a breast in each hand, thumbs teasing the peaks hardened against the air.

Even as she shivered when he leaned down to bestow a kiss on either one, she managed to get him out of everything but the long undergarments concealing that which she craved most. But when she went for them, he stopped her yet again - catching her wrist only to sweep the startled witch into his awaiting arms with a self-satisfied grin.

The mattress depressed beneath her weight, bouncing back as she blew away a stray lock of hair to look up at him. Watching the way his arms — corded with thick veins — flexed and his eyes narrowed. With barely concealed impatience he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his hands around her thighs.

“Quite the man handler, you are.” She giggled once he’d yanked her towards him so her legs fell open on either side of his knees.

That drew the attention of his wandering eyes.

“Somehow I doubt that was a complaint.” His mouth quirked in earnest. ”Nor do I envision you’ll have any after I’m done with you.”

He began to toy with the idea of removing her drawers - the last thing preventing her from losing her mind, potentially - by sliding his fingers beneath their frilly hems, nails prickling the skin of her thighs as they scratched up and down in a taunting rhythm.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered out of the clear blue. “Anything. The only things I know about you are that you’re French, love the color red and Merlot… oh, and you’re a much better dancer than me.”

Sharing random factoids wasn’t necessarily the foreplay she’d been expecting, nor the kind she was used to, but she couldn’t say she minded when his voice alone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Uhmm…” She had to think of something vague; a throwaway tidbit useless to anyone else.

While he watched, waited with wide and patient eyes, she sighed, “I can’t go a day without coffee. Never quite developed a taste for tea. And I drink it with three sugars.”

He blinked twice in quick succession. All the while he had yet to stop playing with the edges of her knickers, though he gradually let one hand inch up her covered thigh, as if testing the waters. But, she wondered… what was there to test? He had been so self-assured outside this room, yet now there was a hint of nerves beneath the cool exterior.

”So dark and sweet is the way you like it, huh?” He simply couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

The smirk she donned was enough of an answer. “Tell me something about you, then.”

”Me… well.” His mouth quirked before he shifted on the bed - lying on his stomach to greet the center of hers with a kiss. Then each of her hips with a gentle nip.“I love to read. Anything I can get my hands on, really. Fiction, nonfiction, magical and otherwise… I’ll devour it all.”

A slight pinch followed by the softness of his lips alerted her to another cluster of marks he began working onto her lower stomach, covering as much ground as he could on her thighs. His breath, heating her core as it came in little pants, was beginning to become a significant problem - one made her feel warm and heavy. Like sinking into a hot bath, if it were near-boiling.

“In fact, if I had to pick my favorite place in the world, it would be sitting in front of a fire with a good book.” His fingertip ever so slightly grazed the inner curve of her thigh.

“A man of charm and intelligence…how ever did I get so fortunate?”

He chuckled at her teasing lilt, the sound tickling her sensitive skin while he began to make way for the kisses left up the length of her thigh — bunching her drawers up until his fingers just brushed the soft nest of curls at the top.

“Although right now I have to say; I’m very much enjoying this spot, as well.” The wicked man smiled up at her.

“Well, if you’re waiting for an invitation, you’ve got it.” She tried to sound casual about it all, but truth be told, she was fighting every urge to rip his underwear off and throw him onto the bed herself like some sort of madwoman.

He might make her into one before the sun rose, anyway.

She was sure of it when he began pressing tortuously chaste kisses to her other thigh, and when his fingers slid lower to deliver a gentle stroke down the center of her slit had her shuddering with anticipation.

“And how long have you been this wet, love?” His deep rasp was muffled by the fabric of her underwear.

She chuckled. “Hmm…since the moment you took me to the bar, probably.”

He sat up with a distinctly prideful grin, slipping the soft cotton undergarments down her legs, his eyes alight as he settled back between them.

She could almost see the words hanging off his lips as he gazed up at her (that sight was enough to make her hips shift needily), but for whatever reason, they weren’t cut loose. No, he busied his mouth with far more important pursuits. After pausing briefly to indulge his eyes in an appreciative sweep of her naked body, he at last found the perfect spot to make her whine (and on the first try, too) with naught but a languorous sweep of his tongue.

It wasn’t nearly enough to quell any bit of the ache driving her into inevitable madness, but he showed her mercy by flattening the wet muscle against her folds and following a slow trail up until the tip of it lightly flicked her clit.

“Oh, please do that again.” She pleaded (had she been reduced to begging so quickly?), one hand inching towards her breast — seeking any more stimulation she could find — as the other slid through the silken waves atop his head.

He obliged. But with more pressure this time, and so, so slow, observing her reaction as if she were the most scintillating thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

It really was something about those eyes. With such unfairly long lashes that fanned over russet cheeks, and the way the candlelight flickering off the walls would touch them just so to light the near-black irises with a rich gold. His lips stretched against her skin, noticing her attention and giving her an approving hum that was met by the push of her hips towards his tongue.

“Mmmph —“ he grunted when her thighs pressed to his ears, entrapping him between them greedily. “Like that, do you?”

Her answering moan earned another grin followed by a gentle suck on her clit that only brought out another breathy, low sound.

“But gods, you taste so sweet…decadent, just as I’d said.”

Merlin, his voice…the way it rumbled with barely contained desire and pulled obscenities from her own throat was sinful.

Drowning in sin didn’t seem such a bad way to go, at present.

The possibility became reality once he re-added a finger to the mix; curling it beneath his tongue to trace the folds before sinking gradually into her awaiting heat.

“Oh, f—“

One of her own fingers rolled her nipple atop the breast she’d been playing with as she shivered. If he kept this up much longer, she would surely come undone right on his tongue; wrapped around that rough digit gliding in and out of her as it stroked her upper walls.

But that didn’t feel right. As wonderful as the softness of his lips enclosing around her clit was, she couldn’t imagine a proper substitute for the stretch his cock would provide instead.

“I need…” she had been about to voice her request when the tip of his tongue prodded her entrance. Both of her hands now gripped his auburn waves like they were keeping her tethered to earth, legs trembling with the effort to fight off the warmth swelling in her core.

“Need what?” He took an eager breath in, only to release it through pursed lips over the throbbing bud he seemed to adore. “I want to hear it loud and clear, lovely.”

An impatient groan parted her bitten lips. “I need more. I need you inside me when you make me come.”

“There you go. Gods, you sound so pretty when you ask to be fucked…” It took one last excruciating pump of his finger inside of her before he withdrew to push himself up onto his knees with a mess of her own making shining on his clean-shaven chin.

“First, though…” The finger coated with her fluids was sucked between his reddened lips. When it was pulled out with a slick, slow draw, he crooked it in her direction. “Come here. I want you to get a little taste, too.”

Don’t mind if I do.

On trembling hands she raised herself up on wobbly knees pressed into the soft mattress, sucking in a breath when she curled her fingers over the band of his underwear and waited for approval.

“Don’t be shy.” He coaxed gently.

It was difficult not to be at least a little intimidated by the proud shape outlined through his bottoms (and leaving a very telltale wet spot in the light fabric), but she pushed past it with a firm swallow.

Her breath whooshed out without prompting as she rolled them over his hips and the rather shapely swell of his backside. And, as it had before taking a sip of the wine he’d offered earlier, her mouth watered when she was rewarded with the view of his cock as it twitched at the first rush of air over the leaking tip.

Personally, she wasn’t much of an artist. She preferred a wand to a brush and blood over red paint, but there was something about him that begged to be immortalized on canvas. How satisfying it would be to perfectly capture the artful tapering from wide shoulders to a slimmer waist, or even to carve from marble the thickness of his thighs.

She doubted it would do him justice.

“Are you going to paint a portrait?” He teased, as if ripping those very thoughts from her mind.

“Just might. And could you blame me?” She answered with a bite of her lip. But there was too much bloody talk going on. In the spirit of action, she lowered her mouth to meet the curve of his hipbone and began marking a wet trail downwards.

The light scrape of his fingernail over her cheekbone made her lashes flutter as he tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, his breathing growing more labored when her palm slipped over the softness of his length — only to fold her fingers around it with gentle pressure. By the time she brushed her lips over the head — then her tongue to collect the salty fluid now leaking down the shaft — he was keening under his breath.

“Mmhmm…keep going, please.” he murmured.

As if she would stop. On the contrary, she wrapped her mouth around him, making a circle around the ridge of his cockhead with the tip of her tongue only to trace the length of him by following a thick vein. He was thick — stretching her lips wide when she took him in inch by inch, allowing him to prod the back of her throat to moisten her mouth.

“Just like that. You’re doing brilliantly, love; just perfect.” He said breathlessly, scraping her hair back into a haphazard updo with a broad hand.

Spurred on by the praise, she hollowed her cheeks for a better seal, dragged her mouth along his shaft until he rewarded her with a broken, guttural moan. She kept it up until finding a rhythm that his hips desperately pushed forward to match.

“I won’t… fuck, you’re going to make me embarrass myself…” he chuckled weakly.

Well that wouldn’t do at all. As much as the idea of swallowing his seed enticed her, there was a far better option in her mind. Which is why, despite his immediate protest in the form of a low grunt and a harsh tug on her hair, she gave one last slow lick before pulling away.

The increasingly flustered wizard tracked her movements with lust-glazed eyes. “I was hoping to drag this out, but I think you’re proper ready for me, aren’t you?”

Her enthusiastic nod spurred a laugh as he unfolded her legs from beneath her, wasting no time in hooking one around his hips and propping the other up to rest on his shoulder. The view was… magnificent, and he seemed to agree as his tongue darted out to taste her essence on his lips.

She’d expected another round of teasing. How relieved she was when instead, the blunt head of his cock parted her readily, sweeping through the slickness there with a stuttered, needy groan.

And just when she was about to insist —

A gasp tore through her dry throat as he pushed himself inside of her with little resistance. She was suddenly so full; though it wasn’t until he was fully sheathed that she let out a long, breathy sigh.

“Good? You alright?” He murmured, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of her thighs. When she nodded, his mouth curled into a smile that she felt amidst the kisses left along her calf.

Oh, it was more than good — by the time he dragged his length out just to drive himself forward again, she was positively keening for more; her hands blindly reaching for some part to grab and managing to splay them flat on his lower back to force him deeper. He could hardly fight her, and it seemed like he didn’t want to anyway. The wizard’s eyes had grown hooded with lust, those sumptuous lips parting to make way for a moan that sent a shock down her spine. Her own eyes fluttered shut as he began to glide in and out of her in languid, practiced thrusts.

“Mm mmm,” he hummed chastingly. “I’d like to see those pretty eyes.”

His boldness — so wildly sexy.

Looking at him was almost a taboo in itself. Nine times out of then, her trysts had involved a lot of pleasure-filled sounds and heavy breathing; but conversation? Not so much. Some people didn’t even like to be kissed — and others found a prolonged gaze entirely too intimate.

This man didn’t just fuck. It was a different experience altogether, and it was bloody incredible. So, like the hopelessly besotted witch she was, she met his gaze and responded with a wanton moan at the sight of his head thrown back in pleasure while his hips made wide circles against hers.

“Gods, you fit like a glove,” his body shuddered with a stuttered exhale. “Feel so good…”

She canted her hips up to meet his in protest of his lazy pace, earning a broken chuckle before being rewarded with the head of his cock roughly probing her to its absolute limit.

“Godric…” she whined pathetically. “Again — right there.”

“Is Godric Gryffindor the one providing your pleasure right now?” He mocked. “No, I don’t think so.”

”Well, then tell me your name, and I’ll scream it as much as you want.”

Locks of mussed hair fell over his forehead as the man shook his head, ignoring her small pout, but soothing the disappointment by giving her something else she’d wanted.

Again, he speared himself nice and deep. And again; and again, until her nails were carving crescents into the muscle of his back and he was whispering streams of filth into her ears between husky groans. Just when she was about to warn him of her rapidly approaching release, he had to go and stop — worst of all, he dragged his length out of her.

“You must be joking,” she panted.

A wicked grin told her she was in for it, and her thighs squeezed together in anticipation as he twirled his finger midair. “Oh, we’re not done. Sit up for me, love, and turn around. That’s it… now put your hands on the headboard.”

When her fingers curled around the solid chunk of wood, the bed dipped and creaked as he came up behind her, chest to spine and fingers curling over hers.

“Make sure you’re holding on tight.” Without warning, he ripped a sharp cry from her throat by driving back into her lonely heat until his hip bones dug into her ass and she swore she could see the night sky in that very room.

“Buggering hell —“ she blurted. This new angle was sure to be the end of her, and he was well aware of it from the delighted chuckle he huffed in her ear.

”You’ve got such a mouth on you for a lady… damned if I don’t love it.” The wizard panted with pride.

He wasn’t taking it easy on her any longer. The sheer force of his thrusts was enough to rock the bed frame against the wall; the thuds as the headboard struck exposed brick likely heard by everyone in the surrounding rooms (not that she had any room to care in her sex addled brain). It was enough to wring every last coherent thought from her, rendering her a shaking, mewling mess and unable to do anything but meet each snap of his hips with her own — while holding on for dear life.

“Oh, yes…” he was on his way to leaving bruises on her hip from the force of his steadying grip, but the sparks of pain only led her to greater pleasure.

Well-attuned to the signs of her mounting release as it threatened to overwhelm her for the third time, he released her hand to reach around and find her clit, abandoning the precision and prowess from before. Those dexterous fingers worked tirelessly, and coupled with the uneven little pants warming her neck between his kisses…

“I know you’re close, love,” he shuddered. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

He threw every last bit of his energy into shoving her over the edge; and as his cock prodded that spot inside of her once more, she gave in and fell apart under his hands. Every unbridled, broken sound that tumbled out as she rode through her orgasm was met with an encouraging whimper from the wizard. Just when the last bit of pleasure was wrung from her body, he pulled out with a groan, releasing ropes of warm seed over her backside and spine.

There he rested for a moment. While he caught his breath, the man’s hands traced the shape of her body, slipping in the essence coating her with a proud chuckle. “Evanesco.” he murmured, restoring her skin to its unmarred state.

“Are you…” he gulped in a lungful of sex-scented air. “Are you alright?”

“Brilliant.” She panted, letting go of the headboard to turn and rest her back against it instead. “You?”

It was an understatement, really: all that stress pounding between her temples and tension in her shoulders had disappeared. She felt spectacular.

“Never better.”

He sank back to his knees, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he admired her with a lazy grin. How she wished she could peel the satin from his cheeks to see that smile reach his dark eyes…

“Only wanted to make sure. You were getting quite loud.” The question seemed more taunt than anything.

Walking might prove difficult for the next couple of hours (at the least), and her hair was likely in a right state (along with her marked-up skin), but none of that mattered when the lingering rush instilled her with a rare lightness.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Not at all. I was very much enjoying the sounds you made. Means I did my job well.”

She gave him a playful eye roll, rolling onto her side with the intention of returning to the solace of his arms before she realized — pillow talk and cuddling were sort of an unspoken faux pas when it came to casual encounters. Usually, her or her partners would leave the bed before the sweat had dried on their skin, and for once the expectation felt…lonely.

It truly struck her when he cleared his throat a moment later, gingerly untangling their weakened limbs to climb out of the bed seeking the various items of clothing discarded across the room.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyes darting to her before he located his pants. “Water, food..? Anything.”

Though appreciative, she waved his offer away with a quiet laugh. “I’ll be just fine. Though I’m sure I’ll need a hot bath at home.”

Sitting idly in bed while he already had a foot out the door picked at her pride, and so the Auror dragged herself out of it on trembling fawn’s legs. She managed to locate her underthings and slip them on before plucking her gown up from the floor.

“Oh,” a flash of gold caught her eye, and she bent to retrieve his trousers — as well as the shiny pocket watch that had evidently fallen out while they were distracted earlier. “Here, you don’t want to lose this.”

He was dragging his shirt over his bed head when she walked over to return it. She couldn’t help but admire the piece’s subtle artistry; the metal so perfectly preserved with intricate curling ivy etched into the rim of the case. Such a unique design…

So unique that she could easily recall seeing one just like it before.

And it, too, had been monogrammed with the letter S.

If he hadn’t snatched the watch out of her hand before the shock hit, she might have dropped and broken one of the last artifacts of the Sallow family.

Merlin, the irony of her asking for his name to say it in bed when she wanted to scream it in outrage now. And of course he had the audacity to take a step towards her, to soften his wide brown eyes (how had she looked into them and not known) and adopt an innocent frown; the one he had always used before begging for forgiveness.

She took a step back in turn and fixed him with a look that could have frozen the fire in the hearth. It was enough to confirm for him exactly what conclusion she’d reached.

“Blast it all, it is you.” He breathed.

“Sebastian?”

#the fear that just struck me #running away now #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow

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wondermilka · 1 year ago

Text

Fading Hearts

Pairing : Alhaitham x fem! reader

Summary : you are in an arranged marriage with Alhaitham.

PART 2 > Temptations (Kaveh x FEM!reader)

TW : angst, no comfort.

→ royal era

a/n: im back and with angst ;)

At the break of dawn, you were awoken and the maids immediately came to prepare you for an important journey to the royal palace. She explained that you were to be married to Alhaitham, the sole heir to the throne.

The reason behind this arranged marriage was that the present king insisted Alhaitham could only ascend to the throne after getting married.

Although he had two more years before taking on the responsibilities of rulership, the king struck a deal with your parents.

Due to your family's unwavering loyalty to the royal family for generations and their status as the strongest noble family in the kingdom, they readily agreed to this arrangement without hesitation.

This decision was made even though your parents had little regard for you, their youngest daughter, as you didn't possess the same talents as your older sister.

Despite that, you were sent off to the palace with no possessions, expected to bring nothing but yourself for this union.

Upon meeting Alhaitham, it became evident that he embodied qualities of duty, honor, and responsibility. He had earned high praise for his leading skills, making him the ideal candidate to ascend to the throne.

Due to the demands of his royal responsibilities, Alhaitham often had to leave you behind in your luxurious yet isolated residence, leaving you little time to truly get to know each other.

From the very day of their wedding, Alhaitham showed no regard for you. Viewing your marriage as a mere political alliance, he paid you little attention, if any at all.

Understanding the situation, you yourself recognized that your marriage was a legal union rather than one rooted in love. You knew better not to expect anything more from him.

After all, you were nothing but the despised daughter of your family, sent away to wed the heir without your will.

. . .

But despite's Alhaitham's cold and harsh demeanor, you refused to give up on your marriage. You spent your days learning about your husband's interests, hoping to find some common ground that would connect you. You tried to be the perfect wife, preparing his favorite meals, and making sure the palace was a welcoming place for him to return to.

Yet, every time Alhaitham returned from his official duties, he would greet you with a cold nod, barely acknowledging your efforts. It was clear that his heart was elsewhere.

Alhaitham's friend, Kaveh, who was also his trusted advisor, noticed the growing rift between the couple.

He could see the pain in your eyes, hidden behind a forced smile, and the emotional detachment in Alhaitham's actions.

Kaveh confronted Alhaitham, urging him to give their marriage a chance, reminding him that you were a worthy partner who deserved love and respect.

However, Alhaitham remained unwavered, shutting himself off from his emotions. He could not bring himself to love you, and he didn't wish to deceive you with false affection.

He believed that fulfilling his duty as future king was enough, even if it meant living a marriage devoid of love.

He told himself that he must get divorced once he settles down on the throne. But for the meantime, he'll have to hold on for the remaining 2 years.

As the months turned into years, your spirit slowly faded. You continued to put on a facade of happiness for the sake of the kingdom and Alhaitham's reputation, but inside, your heart was breaking.

The once lively and spirited woman was now a shadow of her former self, worn down by the unrequited love and loneliness.

One fateful evening, Alhaitham returned home with a heavy heart. Kaveh had advised him to reconsider his stance, but Alhaitham remained firm.

As he stepped into the palace, he noticed you sitting by the window, tears streaming down your cheeks. The sight pierced his heart, but he couldn't bring himself to console you.

"I'm sorry." Alhaitham whispered as he walked past you without a word, retreating to his study.

You knew that nothing would change; your hopes of gaining his favor and trust were shattered.

You understood that you were simply a pawn in a political game, and Alhaitham's heart had no interest for you.

#angst #genshin #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #alhaitham #genshin impact Alhaitham #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x reader angst #alhaitham angst #alhaitham fanfic #milkawrites

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raviolirash · 2 months ago

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Gift.

Astarion struggles finding a gift for his love.

Astarion was a great charlatan. When it was time to put on a charade, he didn't have a humble bone in his body. Bragging about being the master of everything, how everything suits him, how he is a vampire of endless talents and beauty and clever words. How he's above everything, how flowers are overrated and never make good poisons.

He couldn't even pretend to be good at... this.

They all had some downtime in-between trying to solve a murder and taking down a tyrant, just every day things. Most scattered to explore the city for the remainder of the day. The Baldurians of their party sought out friends they wanted to say hello to before the city inevitably burns down again, the wizard was trying not to faint in the giant library, Halsin was probably feeding ducks to quell the stress this cursed stone city was choking his heart with, and Lae'Zel was most likely threatening a blacksmith and making him reconsider his career choice as he no longer sees the point.

Vėlė got dragged away by her old friend for a little while, to cause some unknown trouble with a few other drow they recognized in the city. It was never a good sign.

As for Astarion? Astarion was hiding in the shadows, counting the sweat beads on the merchant not too far away who has had to deal with the vampire's malice filled glare for the past hour. The malice wasn't aimed at the merchant, just at his own situation.

Romance didn't come easy to him. It all was quite new. He was worried that he'd overdo it, that he was very frightening. Worried that he didn't do enough. Worried that he couldn't do enough. Hells. After Cazador's defeat, the pit in his brain which used to house thoughts of vengeance had to be filled with something.

In turn, he subconsciously tried nothing. The problem at hand was that he actually wanted to try. Try something that involved more than him sitting with her and talking about how he has no idea what to do. He knew the basics of romance of course. Flowers. Dinners. Trips to faraway lands. A star in the sky to look at. A song in her heart. But none of those seemed right.

So, often he turned to what he knew best: being an asshole. And so he spent the time he was thinking about his problems getting on the salesman's nerves. He was an asshole, and he was the most comfortable being one. He could do that. Assholing was his comfort zone, an asshole was who he always was.

But was it who he wanted to be?

Maybe a little bit of an asshole, a little less than who he always was, but would that be enough? He knew Vėlė loved him, but how far would she put up with his nonsense before she snapped? He almost hit that limit the night before they killed Cazador.

His thoughts were heading into a very uncomfortable direction and he put a swift stop to it. He has gotten better at doing that.

Point was, he felt like he had to try, if this was going to work. After everything. Because no one knew when the world would end.

Astarion thought about her tattoos. Small birds and flowers were the most prominent subject. Surely something she allowed to become a permanent fixture on her skin was something she really liked. On the other hand, Karlach was inked with Zariel's name all over her body. Not to mention the markings on his own back. Vėlė has only talked fondly about her tattoos, how she got them to have control over herself, so there was that.

The gods wouldn't bless him with it being simple, and stopping at that. Every damned flower and every bird had a meaning, and there was the possibility of buying her a flower that represents a reminder of something awful the spider queen did to her. Or getting her a wooden bird symbolizing a creature which eats the heads off people happily in love.

Damn. He was stuck in the stupidest impasse.

He knew what she liked and didn't like, he knew what was on her body and what wasn't. What she would like and what she wouldn't for the most part. But the damn idea of a gift made him very awkward.

Before anyone could blink, he had pilfered a book from the flower merchant and went back to the bench to read it. A book about flowers and their meanings. Huh. Looks like the merchant was a bigger sham than he was.

He skimmed over it. Anything that resembled a sussur flower was a no-go. Most of the things in the book did sound like the author wanted to maximize their profits by making things up.

Oh, how cute would it be to just simply say 'I saw this, and thought of you'. Finding a rose in a blighted place and telling her what a rare and beautiful thing she was to find amongst darkness. He had to become a bloody scholar. Averting his eyes from the endless names of flowers in the book, Astarion saw the merchant panicking as he checked every pocket of his, frantically mumbling something about a book and missing coin. He grew increasingly more and more erratic for every second that passed, with it culminating in telling a customer to hold on a minute as he went out to find a Fist.

Astarion put the book behind his back with an inconspicuous whistle. Nothing to see here.

Although, he did find some relief and camaraderie in that the merchant was a fraud. None of this helped with his problem, however. He could steal something for her, maybe? No. A stolen chain with a pretty rock felt inadequate, and by the gods they had quite enough of that already. A custom piece of jewelry wouldn't get made before the city starts burning.

Astarion pulled out the dagger she made for him, using some magic that - truthfully - he wanted to know very little about. He knows what happens to pretty men who stick their noses in Drow magic.

Nevertheless, that dagger was the catalyst for this particular catastrophe going on. Flowers just wouldn't cut it compared to this. Compared to everything she has done, really. The glowing heart on the dagger left a lovely trail in the air when the threw up the dagger to catch it again with flawless technique, then letting it dance between his fingers.

Gods, please take pity on the fool who fell in love.

Calling defeat, he sought her out. The city will actually start burning prematurely without the two being there to guide the rest of the companions. Astarion found her in the Elfsong enjoying a meal, with the other patrons as far away from her as possible and a notable smell of blood in the air which explained some things. Even with Astarion out of the Elfsong's rotation, it wasn't free of creeps. Alan couldn't complain as she paid extra for the trouble.

"Hello, my love." Astarion watched her face light up at the words as he took a seat across from her. He tossed the stolen book on the table with exhausted abandon, unfortunately catching her attention with the thud.

"What's this?" Vėlė swallowed her food and wiped her hands on a cloth before inspecting it.

"Oh, just rotten fruit of a hard day's work." He complained. "I had to humble an absolute fraud. This city needs to have standards when it comes to swindlers, honestly."

With a disappointed sigh in himself, Astarion returned to playing with the dagger. He wondered if he threw it hard enough it could hit the ceiling. Just as he was getting ready for it, he got distracted by her voice

"Lily of The Valley. Apparently it means returning to happiness." Vėlė had the book right next to her arm, comparing the the illustrations of the flower in the book to the one on her arm. "So it doesn't mean 'Corellon has pissed in a garden', after all."

Astarion huffed: "I suspect that in Lolth-ian every flower has a name that loosely translates to 'the devil known as Coronal of Arvandor is pissing somewhere'."

He thought about it some more for a moment, as her laugh echoed through the tavern. A lovely sound he couldn't get enough of. He continued. "Don't you tell me that I am that far off the mark. I think I've heard some family of tulips translated as 'Defecating on The Seldarine's feet'."

"Hey, now. It's not all about Corellon." Vėlė giggled. "I also heard the Menzoberranzan commoners call roses 'The Goddess who is singing at the moon, and is also a whore'. Lolth's words, not mine."

Vėlė continued flipping through the book, always stopping to comment when she found a flower that was also tattooed on her, her smile growing with every new discovery, and sometimes sighing in contempt when the symbolism was inaccurate.

And all the rogue could do was smile back like a love sick fool.

#vėlė

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screamintoad · 3 months ago

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TWST oc Blanche Primrose

“I believe we’ve met before. Perhaps…once upon a dream.”

Voice claim: Nobara-Jujutsu Kaisen

Character info

Blanche is a typically headstrong girl. Her temper isn’t as bad as some of the other students but she’ll call out others wrong doings. If she’s not doing anything too important or tedious then she’ll often be found day dreaming.

The summer before she started attending NRC, she was told by her grandmother that Blanche is expected to be enrolled at a stuffy all girls private school that her grandma attended. Later that night a raven delivered a letter to her windowsill that spoke of how she was recommended to be a student at NRC by a few upperclassmen. She knew that night that she was going to choose her own fate rather than a path that her grandmother curated for her.

Fun facts: She used to live in the same town as Jack and Vil and was even friends with them when they were kids. She spent her first few months at school pretending to be a boy since, as far as her grandma knew, she was at that stuffy private school. That same summer before coming to NRC she would frequently dream of meeting a young man with silver hair.

Basic info

Age: 16

Height: 162cm, 5’4

B-day: September 7th (Virgo)

Dominant hand: Right

Family: Unnamed grandmother

Nicknames: Petit Rouge (Rook), Harp seal (Floyd)

1st year

Class B

Club: Light music club

Best subject: Herbology

Hobbies: Baking, day dreaming

Pet peeve: Selfish people

Favorite food: Berry muffins

Least favorite food: Seafood

Talent: Quick thinking (does not equal smart thinking)/singing

Unique Magic: Thorny Heart, she can grow thorny vines around her and even grow various plants from the vines. Such as ones that are just pretty or ones that have medicinal values. Sometimes when she’s startled she just SPROUTS the thorns and freaks everyone out for a second.

Character dynamics

Vil: Childhood friend number 1. He’s like a mother hen towards her, constantly fretting over her grades and appearance. It drives her up a wall but she knows he means well. These habits are especially prominent when she first starts attending.

Jack: Childhood friend number 2. They first met when Jack was playing outside and he found her picking berries in the forest while she was wearing a hooded red cape. As classmates they’re both striving to help the other. That could be studying with the first year squad or timing track runs.

Rook: Creepy dorm mate. Honestly, she doesn’t like him, like at all. She knows he possibly means well but he still unnerves her.

Epel: Hot tempered classmate. They fought a lot when they first met but eventually realized that they’re actually kind of similar. They bond over not wanting to be in Pomefiore in the beginning.

Silver: Love interest. Despite the dreams during summer, they didn’t recognize each other until way later, like Book 5 later. After that it was nothing but sweet sweet slow burn but one thing’s for sure. Everyone loves silver and gold.

Malleus: They both get a weird sense of deja vu when they’re first getting acquainted. They met one night when they stumbled upon each other walking routes. Neither could place it but they felt as if they had met before. Maybe in a dream, maybe a different time entirely. They got along and taught each other a lot, eventually Malleus joined in on Lilia’s teasing when it came to her and Silver together.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #oc #art #This is so scuffed #first post #new to tumblr #digital art

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hotvintagepoll · 7 months ago

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Propaganda

Marion Davies (Show People, the Patsy)— JUSTICE FOR MARION DAVIES. I am always so upset when I learn that some people STILL think she was some untalented pretty face who was only a success because of her relationship with Hearst. Please watch literally any of her movies, silent or sound, to see how untrue this is. She was successful in spite of Hearst's constant meddling. She really shines as a comedienne. Just watch her imitate other silent stars in The Patsy, or her screwball antics in Show People. I've watched so many silents just for her, but she was also really good in sound films, too, like Blondie of the Follies. She's absolutely adorable, and she deserves to be recognized for her talent, alone.

Rita Hayworth (Gilda, Cover Girl)—Absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. She steals every movie she’s in; she was Fred Astaire’s favorite dance partner, as you can see in clips from their movies [link][link]. Born Margarita Carmen Cansino, Rita's story had its tragedies—her father was awful and had her performing in nightclubs way, way too young; the studio totally remade her look because they were afraid of her hispanic image, putting her through painful treatments and diets; she had a string of failed marriages. But beside all that, I think there's something about Rita that still glows through—an inner beauty that has nothing to do with the studio, or the men who pinned their dreams on her. Rita brings an incandescence to roles that's impossible to replicate, and was truly a great actress in that she could switch from herself—shy Margarita—into a bold and glamorous femme fatale so convincingly everyone fell in love with her as Gilda. She's my favorite movie star, and I think she was a beautiful human through and through—Rita, gorgeous and real and shining bright.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Marion Davies:

the queen of comedy

If anyone is looking for a tragic infamous funny fav, this is your girl! She came from a catholic convent to become a showgirl! As many of these early Hollywood stars, she fell victim to falling in love with the wrong man. She had a long lasting affair with a older powerful married man, William Hearst. Their story was so iconic and scandalous that it is largely what inspired Citizen Kane. She gained her fame through him, which eventually gathered her the reputation of being social-climbing and taking advantage of more her looks than her talent. This made her controversial, which wasn't helped by her flirty fun personality and attitude towards other actors (including Charlie Chaplin). All of this hate meant that she was eventually ostracized by Hollywood and even blamed for Hearst's death. My poor girl was excitable, funny, charismatic, energetic, and extremely talented. I believe that at her heart and soul, she was truly a clown. She possesses an incredible gift for mimicry, a deceptively animate face, and an absence of on-screen ego that allows her to throw herself into anything, no matter how foolish or potentially embarrassing, with all of her considerable energy. And it's those ridiculous moments that are almost always her best in film, because to me, that's really who she was. She was silly and sweet and so so so so so funny! And she deserved better than the tragedy of the life she got.

Rita Hayworth:

Do you need any other propaganda? Here’s the video.

youtube

She was not called "the love goddess" for nothing: beautiful, glamorous, despite playing sexy and provocative roles her inherent shyness somehow also would shine through sometimes, creating this contradictory and incredibly attractive image

Often played "the bad girl" who tempted the male hero away from "the good girl"; but did have roles that broke her out of that mold. She was also the inspiration for Jessica Rabbit. THE pinup girlie.

HELP

youtube

She was soo beautiful when she was young and she MAINTAINED that beauty into her later years and I think that old lady glamour is hot. bombastic sex appeal

every line she delivers in gilda is so flirty and passionate or absolutely desolate and it's so good

I just have a lot of feelings about her

#rita hayworth #marion davies #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3 #Youtube

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storm-angel989 · 4 months ago

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Could you write Valentino x his biological teen! daughter? Maybe they both died the same death at the same time ( I heard he was shot by a cop) and they live in hell together? Thank you💓💓💓

In life, they called him The Mayor.

Born into a prison town, by the age of twenty four Valentino had already served his time in the penitentiary. Unlike the rest of the criminal population he was locked up with, Valentino used those locked up moments to work his way to the top. By the time he emerged, he had connections within every gang, and at least three members of each owed him favors.

Charm, after all, had always been his strong point. And he was skilled at selling anything to anyone. From drugs to bodies, Valentino had his hands in it all. He was on top of the world until she came into his life.

A cute little blonde thing. The words “I’m pregnant”. A house the next town over, bought and owned under an alias. Soft kisses and a proposal, a promise to be wed after the birth of their daughter. A shift from selling to negotiating deals- brokering deals inside and outside the prison.

For a fee, of course.

Nine months ticked past. A hurried ride to the hospital. Hours of pain and too much blood, Valentino watched death take the only person he ever loved. As he clutched his newborn daughter to his chest, he wondered if this was payback- karma for all the wrong he had done.

A quiet car ride home, and Valentino’s focus stayed elsewhere. Rather than his usual alert eyes, the mind that usually assessed every shadow was too busy processing the information he had been given on how to keep this tiny creature alive. Exhausted, he slowly climbed the steps into the house and closed the door behind him.

“It’s you and me now, bebita,” Valentino said softly as he took a seat in the rocking chair.

The child cooed and he pressed a ready made bottle to her mouth. As she ate, he snapped open the top of his dress shirt and laid her against his bare chest, using one hand to keep her secure. So focused on his daughter and the events of the day, he didn’t notice their presence until it was too late.

Three quick shots. Two through him. One through them both. A flash of red. And then white.

“Ah, Valentino,” a loud voice boomed. “And your little girl too. How sweet.”

Valentino looked around frantically at the red and black painted office. Seven pulpits surrounded him, but whatever was behind them was obscured by a different colored fog. He looked down and to his relief, his daughter lay fast asleep in his hold.

“The Mayor, they called you, hm? You have quite the talent. And quite the rap sheet. I call dibs.” A different voice said.

A squabble of arguments, and words Valentino couldn’t understand. Sins? Greed? Lust? Where the fuck was he? He opened his mouth to demand, and instead he found himself in an entirely different room, in front of a rather usual looking desk.

“So you’re Valentino, hm? I’m Asmodeus, the demon of lust, and I’ll be the one you answer to.”

Valentino recognized the voice as the second one that had spoken. The red fog that surrounded him in the former room cleared, revealing a flaming red face surrounded by blue. Startled, he stepped back and wrapped his arms around his daughter.

“Leave her out of this, take me,” he demanded. “I’m the one who deserved to die, not her.”

Asmodeus raised an eyebrow. “You are dead. No way out of it now. But leave who out of this…oh, oh!” He stood up and walked around the desk.

Valentino stepped back and Asmodeous grinned. “Ah. Not very often we get a two for one deal. Tell me now, what is her sin?”

“Sin? She isn’t even three days old,” Valentino replied in what he hoped was an authoritative voice. “She’s done nothing wrong.”

Asmodeus shrugged. “Born out of wedlock, unbaptised. It’s all the same to heaven, they don’t give a shit.” He returned behind the desk and took a seat.

A thoughtful expression crossed his face. Or at least, what Valentino thought looked like was a thoughtful expression. Really, it was hard to tell.

“Let’s clear the air,” he said after a few seconds of silence. “You’re dead. She’s dead. You’re both sinners, so you’re in hell. You, my friend, will take on the form of a demon. And she, because her only sin was being born, will maintain her human form and grow up. She’ll stop aging at the age of twenty five but you…what to do with you?”

Valentino watched as he pulled out a binder from his desk and seemed to review its contents. Anger began to fester and he held his daughter ever so slightly tighter. Hell? Impossible.

“You're a demon?” Valentino demanded. “And I’m dead? And this is hell?”

“You’re both dead, and yes. I am indeed a demon. I represent the sin of lust, but you’ll learn all about that,” Asmodeus answered. He closed his binder and peered at Valentino.

“Usually, I send sinners straight to the pride ring with nothing but the clothes on their backs. This is hell after all- and you earned your place here. But your little girl didn’t, so I’ll make you a deal. You work for me, and I’ll set you up with everything you need to take care of that little girl of yours.”

A contract and a pen floated over to Valentino. Asmodeous’s name, already scrawled on the contract in bright red. Valentino looked down at his little girl and took a deep breath as he picked up the pen. Slowly, he scrawled his name on the line.

Asmodeous grinned. “Ah. Smart man. I knew I picked a good one. Now come, let’s get you settled. That little girl probably needs a bottle.”

Thirteen years later, Valentino would have traded the terror of that first day in hell for the current moment.

His daughter, dressed in what barely constituted clothing. Tight bandana top. Way too short jean shorts. Long hair, curled down and a face framed with makeup.

“You cannot wear that to school,” Valentino told her firmly. “Beyond the fact that is does not comply with the dress code, you look like a…”

“Like what Dad? Like a slut?” Reader yelled as she put her hands on her hips. “Go ahead, say it!”

Valentino gave her a stern look. “Go change. This discussion is over.”

“I hate you! And I hate this place!” She screamed back.

Valentino winced as she slammed the door. Behind him, Vox chuckled.

“It will get better, Val, once she gets through her teenage years. Until then, buck up buddy. She’s just like you.”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Velvette said as she stood up. “Val, might as well head down to the studio. Give her some time to cool off.”

With a sigh he picked up his mug of coffee and made his way downstairs to his office. As he did more and more frequently these days, he wondered if he would be facing the same struggles with her on Earth that he did in hell. Probably, he figured. After all, it was his daughter. At least in hell, he had friends to help raise her. And a life of luxury he hadn’t imagined existed on Earth.

And if he had his way, he would be sure she never knew any different.

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the-badger-mole · 5 months ago

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Can I give you a prompt for your 2k follower special? I'd love to see you do more of your Book 1 Zutara au.

Alright... cracks knuckles. Let me give this a shot.

Here's the thing, I honestly think that I did the best that I could with my Endless Impossibilities thread, but maybe I have a few headcanons left in me?

I love the idea of Book 1 Zutara being a one-sided, completely unwanted crush on Zuko's end. It starts out as a completely disinterested admiration for her waterbending. Zuko recognizes that she's a prodigy. Even untrained, she manages to give him a good fight. He also likes how feisty she is, which is something he questions in himself in his more introspective moments. (It's fine. Turns out he just likes challenging women who speak their minds).

On the subject of him recognizing her raw talent and admiring how well she does in a fight despite being untrained, he likes that she fights him as if she really thinks he can win. Zuko has a very skewed opinion of his own skill, and despite being able to best fully trained, grown men, he thinks, and is often treated like he is a sorry excuse for a firebender. So even though he often has to hold back on Katara the untrained prodigy, her moments of ingenuity, like when she scrambles Jun's mole with the perfume, make Zuko think that she's so much smarter than he is.

At some point, Zuko finds out that Katara is the daughter of the SWT's chief. The closest thing to a king they have, which to Zuko makes Katara a princess. Never mind that government in the SWT doesn't really work that way. The idea that Katara is royalty and not lowborn as he originally thought is very intriguing. I don't always put this in my Book 1 Zutara timeline, but I think it works there. I like the thought of Zuko spending lots of sleepless nights in his cabin considering the implications of this new information and what, if anything, it means (it means that once he's restored his honor and taken his rightful place as his father's heir, he can court Katara and not have it be the scandal it would be if she really were just a peasant from the SWT. But he won't admit to himself that's what he's thinking).

Zuko's not stupid. He knows that nothing could ever happen with him and Katara. Especially not while he's hunting down her friend. That makes the pinning so much more fun! (for us, the audience. Not so much for him). He hardly ever allows his feelings to get in the way of his mission. He's not intentionally losing to Aang (he really isn't. He's never fought an airbender before and there is a learning curve). But maybe he doesn't follow as closely as he could. Maybe he's gentler with Katara than with her companions. Maybe he takes a bit of inappropriate pride when he sees her getting better at waterbending.

Zuko has a lot of nightmares. There is plenty for him to have nightmares about, but he dreams about Katara too. They are sweet dreams, and he feels worse about them on waking than the nightmares. He feels like his psyche is torturing him with visions of what can never happen. At least he survived the things he has nightmares about. He'll never actually get to experience Katara smiling at him, or stroking his scared cheek without flinching. He'll never actually know how her hair feels brushing against his arm as she leans in to kiss him. He likes dreaming about her. He hates waking from those dreams.

That's it. That's all I got. I hope this satisfies you until I can actually pull this all together into a cohesive story! Thanks for the asks! I'll probably be doing 2k posts through the weekend, so feel free to drop something into my asks!

#atla #zutara #2k followers #2k followers celebration #ask the badger mole #asks open

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dana-chan-the-control-brain · 1 year ago

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Fnaf Movie thoughts!

I wanted to ramble some of thoughts and theories I had about the Fnaf Movie.

Cause the brainrot is real and won't leave my brain.

(wow just read back that sentence. Excuse any grammar errors or dumb shit, I'm still very sick)

Below the cut will feature heavy spoilers, so unless you want to be spoiled of the major twists this movie has, I would recommend wait to read this.

I unfortunately couldn't see the movie in my theatres, cause I got horribly sick and wasn't able to get the full theatre experience.

I was able to watch on Peacock, with all my fnaf plushies with a super sinus clogged headache, so that's the mindset I had. lol

Anyway.. Movie time

I absolutely LOVED Mike and Abby. First off.

I didn't even mind a lot of time of the movie was spent AWAY from Freddy's. Because so much is just about learning about Mike and his family and connection to Abby.

Sure, we could have spent the WHOLE movie at Freddy's. But that is not what this movie is about. And it's clearly trying to tell a bigger mystery and this felt a very introduction friendly entry point to anyone confused about the fnaf lore.

I love how completely obsessed Mike is with Dream theory. To the point he's taking heavy duty sleeping pills on his job that he clearly doesn't need and just is doing it so he can relive his dreams/fabricated memories.

The intro credits with the 8-bit style graphics of the minigames in fnaf2-4??? Like bro? I cried. That was so iconic and they fill in the backstory for the purple guy, who actually appears as his sprite??? Like... Man iconic.

Also... Dude... Mike Schmitt in the movie is like... what the Fans wanted Mike in the games to be for YEARS. Like... Mike in the games is nothing. He's a silent face. We know so little about him, and everything else is purely speculative. Even the whole "he was foxy bro and has regret over his brother" ...That's all theory and not confirmed. As far as we know, Crying child and his brother might not even be Afton kids.

But this Mike is EXACTLY the motivations we wanted Mike to have? If that makes sense? He laments his brother was taken at a young age and expresses regret and motivation to want to get him back. he has the motivations that the fandom built for him for years and ran with it, and I LOVE THAT.

FNAF Movie actually gives good reasons why Mike comes back every night, as said in Living Tombstone's iconic song "why do you want to stay?" Cause of his regrets with his brother and his obsession with dream theory and doesn't realize the animatronics are a threat until like... night four.

THE ANIMATRONICS?? THE PUPPETS??? THEY LOOK SO GOOD??? HECK YEAH!!!!

I SCREAMED when I recognized Matpat's voice, and then I saw his face. Reconized him for his voice WAY before I saw his face. I didn't think he'd have a speaking or face cameo and get to say his iconic "it's just a theory" line and about food too??? King shit.

Letting the animatronics have moments where they can just be cute and friendly as well as creepy and bloodthirsty is so great! I want to give them all pets.

THE CHILD ACTORS ARE ALL SO GOOD! To the point you don't even notice! It's often hard to get children to play a convincing performance, but these children acted really well! They must have a real talented director who knew how to get the best of their child actors. You don't even realize that the child actors are great, cause they're so good it's unnoticeable. AMAZING

VANESSA BEING WILLIAM AFTON'S DAUGHTER IS NOTHING SHORT OF BRILLIANT!!!!

I MEAN, I SCREAMED WHEN SHE SAID "William Afton My father"

I was screaming about this in my group chat.

I was screaming for a thousand years.

AND IT makes sense why the cops never found the bodies. Vanessa is a cop! She's covering for her father!

I absolutely LOVE what a girl failure Vanessa is too!

Like she shows up, HEAVILY flirts with Mike (like she was laying it on so thick my demisexual ass was picking up on her vibe) and just shows up to give him exposition on the FNAF lore. fheogheahf. Like. It's great.

(no doubt she was flirting heavily with Mike at the start due to manipulation from her father, I do believe it grows to genuine fondness later)

I've heard people complain about her flipflop nature... BUT THAT's the POINT!

(a literal arcade game in security breach.)

She let Abby play with the animatronics, knowing it was dangerous. Her original plan was to kill Mike, but she changes her plans when she sees he has a kid. (who she thought was his daughter at first) It was only after Abby got injured by Accident, she realized that what a danger she posed by brining them here at all. She only threatened to shoot Mike because she hoped that such an extreme threat would get him to quit. She even tells him about how many security guards quit. But it doesn't.

She even said she tried to warn in her own way. She's terrified of her father. And we get deep foreshadowing about that throughout the movie.

I really hope that in some sequels we will get to see Vanny at some point. Maybe even Springtrap and Vanny working together in the same movie??? CAN YOU IMAGINE THIS?!?!? I WOULD GO FERAL

Anyway, Vanessa is such a girl failure and my girl blorbo. I support her and her woman's wrongs

The minor look of regret after Will stabs his daughter... peak cinema.

The springlock scene... The quiet of the stabs, giving such a realistic collapse... the "I always come back" ...Embracing the monster he knows he is. He is the mask. He isn't hiding behind the mask, like he is being Steve. he is the mask now. Just... Chefs kiss.

The animatronics dragging springtrap away mirrors the ending of Silver Eyes so well, and I'm glad, because that was the best part of the Silver eyes. <3

THE LIVING TOMBSTONE GOT TOP BILLING FOR THE FIRST CREDITS SONG! PERFECT

Garret is 100% going to be the Puppet in the Movie Series. He was the one taken in the car, the spelling out in the minigame sounds at the very end says: "COME FIND HIM" And after Living Tombstone ends, the credits music fades into Grandfather's clock music box... Puppet's song..... Garret will be the Puppet in this universe and I so look forward to that.

I enjoyed the movie. I'm glad that they left the overarching mystery of Garret open to be explored in the sequel.

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoilers #danachan's rants

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theunsinkableship1 · 3 months ago

Text

LUKOLA FANDOM: The bad and the ugly

DISCLAIMER: This is LUKOLALAND only. Skip this if you're not a shipper. This is only my point of view. No harm intended

Luke

Luke has recently found himself at the center of an undeserved hate campaign. Luke is not only a talented actor but also a genuinely kind and down-to-earth person. Those who know him personally often speak highly of his warmth, and strong work ethic. His colleagues frequently commend his positive attitude on set, his dedication to his craft, and his ability to bring a nuanced, relatable charm to his characters.

Despite this, Luke has been unfairly criticized for a range of baseless reasons. One of the most prominent accusations involves "Papgate," where he was allegedly involved in a publicity stunt that some claim detracted from the show's success. However, it's important to recognize that Luke has always been committed to the success of Bridgerton. As a professional, he understands the importance of the show's reputation and would never intentionally jeopardize it. A professional PR team would never have advised Luke to engage in such a stunt, especially given that there was no pressing need or benefit in doing so, after all, the hard launch has yet to occur. It's clear that Luke genuinely admires his good pal Nicola and values their relationship too much to have intentionally ruined their night. The lack of evidence to support these accusations further highlights the unfair nature of this criticism. His hard work and talent should be celebrated, not overshadowed by baseless accusations.

Another point of contention has been Luke's personal life, with some fans unfairly speculating and judging his choices. However, Luke, like anyone, has the right to live his life privately and without undue scrutiny. We might raise an eyebrow at some of Luke's associations and choices, but that's something we can ponder in the privacy of our Lukolaland without spreading negativity. Luke wasn’t jobless; he was taking a well-deserved vacation after months of hard work with his friends before returning to work in August, just like many do. There's nothing out of the ordinary here. It’s important to remember that we don’t have all the details, so we shouldn’t be quick to judge without knowing the full story. I trust that both Luke and Nicola will navigate this situation wisely and come through just fine. He has conducted himself with integrity, and the assumptions made about his relationships are purely speculative and often harmful. It’s wrong to attack him, his family and friends.

Luke Newton is a promising young actor with a bright future ahead of him. Beyond his undeniable talent, he is known for his kindness, and humility. Luke has always been a good-looking guy, though attraction is subjective. If he’s not your type, that’s fine, but many others do find him attractive, and it doesn’t make sense to broadcast your disinterest across Lukolaland. If you’re not a fan, simply move on without trying to ruin it for others. What truly matters is the work he’s done. Luke plays Colin with skill, bringing depth, relevance, and nuance to the role, with a performance that is both detailed and deeply empathetic. If his performance wasn’t to your taste, feel free to critique it constructively, but keep the focus on his acting. Luke is talented, passionate, and generous, and those who know him appreciate and love him for that. Even his Barbie, I mean-his costar, Nicola has nothing but kind words to say about him. While fans may have opinions, it is important to approach these with empathy and respect, rather than extending unwarranted criticism.

Nicola

I've come across articles and comments that unfairly critique Nicola’s appearance, suggesting she isn’t attractive enough due to her so-called "average" or "oversized" body. The only thing average about her body is that it fits an average size. Let's set the record straight: Nicola is neither fat nor skinny, she’s simply herself. And let's stop equating body size with beauty. Fat people can be stunning, just as skinny people can be less so; it's a fact of life. To claim she doesn't meet certain standards of beauty is not only incorrect but downright absurd. Have you seen her? She is a definition of beauty, both inside and out. Her radiance is undeniable, fitting most conventional beauty standards effortlessly with her baby blue eyes. She embodies all the qualities we value collectively in terms of feminine beauty and her body is a Roman empire.

While you might not personally be attracted to her, that view is far from the majority. Nicola outshines 99% of the population, and among the remaining 1%, she’s in the top tier, thanks to the beauty that comes from within. Her intelligence, brightness, and wisdom add to her allure, making her truly captivating. It's absurd to claim that Luke isn't attracted to Nicola simply because she doesn't fit someone's narrow idea of "his type." Attraction is highly personal and goes far beyond superficial traits. Luke and Nicola share an evident deep connection that likely transcends physical appearance, focusing more on personality, shared values, and mutual respect. Moreover, the idea that Luke wouldn’t be attracted to someone as radiant, talented, and charming as Nicola is equally baseless, if anything, she embodies qualities that many find irresistibly attractive. And we have no definitive idea of what "his type" is as both of his exes looked different and the only trait that they have in common is that they’re attractive talented genuine and kind women who are actresses; Its therefore not wrong to assume that Nicola could fit that description and not the contrary. Just as some may assume Nicola isn't his type, the reverse could be just as true, maybe she is not attracted to tall, dark and handsome men with a remarkable shade of blue eyes, which only underscores how irrelevant these superficial judgments are. Nicola is human, at least I think that she is, and like all of us, she might make mistakes. But unlike many, she is thoughtful and deliberate in her life choices. Nicola has every right to choose her own partner, and while we may wish otherwise, that decision is hers alone. She’s independent and career-driven, and she’s certainly not desperately waiting around for just anyone, only for the one who truly makes a difference in her life. That’s likely why she hasn’t publicly claimed anyone yet. Thankfully, we can trust her judgment, as she knows best who brings happiness and adds value to her life.

Tifaine

Within the Lukola fandom, some creators have been unfairly attacked for their dedication and hard work. Tifaine, in particular, has faced criticism despite her contributions to the community. While it may seem unusual to outsiders that grown people dedicate so much time to shipping real people, it is essential to understand that this community is built on love and admiration, not harm. The only people who have the right to criticize this are Luke and Nicola themselves, and they have expressed appreciation for the support they receive from fans. If Nicola or Luke ever express discomfort or a desire to reassess those boundaries, most of us would comply or, would stop because, contrary to popular belief, we are functioning adults with full lives.

Tifaine's work in the fandom has been invaluable, and while disagreements may arise, it is important to recognize the effort and passion she brings to the community.She has certainly sacrificed time, money for the cause and she puts herself out there which attracts a lot of negativity. Based on my understanding, she was merely presenting facts mostly well-known and non-detrimental ones that do not undermine what’s happening between the two leads. She has consistently shown that she cares deeply for both of them and genuinely wishes for their success, whether individually or together. I trust her intentions and appreciate the significant effort she has put into her work, which is far from negligible. Her dedication is commendable, and her contributions have helped create a space where fans can come together to celebrate the love and success of Luke and Nicola.

In conclusion, I believe that the recent wave of negativity in the community is both unwarranted and harmful and frankly quite counterproductive. And if none of them is above criticism, it is crucial to remember that behind the screens they are real people deserving of respect and kindness. As fans, our role should be to support and uplift, not tear down. By fostering a community built on love and understanding, we can ensure that the fandom remains a positive and welcoming space.

#lukola #lukolaland

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onlybeeewrites · 1 year ago

Note

If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe like friends to lovers or something x

The Muse

Requested: By anon

Warnings: nothing just pining

Painting: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Request: If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe friends to lovers or something

Authors Note: I beg for forgiveness that it has taken me so long to get to this. I had insane writers block, then university hit like a truck and had to put writing on hold. But I have returned and I loved this request. I am currently rewatching Brigderton after watching Queen Charlotte so I hope this to your liking. So sorry again, love <3

—————————————————————————————

You had grow up beside the Bridgerton Household your entire life—to the estate beside theirs at least. Your father’s had been quite good friends, and as your parents began with their families the relationship between the two had grown. This has allowed you to have direct access to the household since you could even remember. Your were at the young age of four and twenty, just a few years older than the eldest Bridgerton daughter, but still a few years younger than the second eldest Bridgerton who also just so happened to be your closest companion.

You remembered the first time you had met the boy, or at least remembered meeting him. You were but about six years of age, and Benedict was ten. Your mother had dragged you over to the house as she more often did to have tea with the Viscountess Bridgerton as they did more often than not. It was in their tea room where you were interacting with Colin when Benedict had come in rather excitedly to show his mother a drawing he had made. You could remember her cooing her second eldest son, praising his rather interesting art piece. Curiously you had glanced over, interested with all the paint colors and such. Benedict had noticed your curiosity and offered for you to have a closer look. From then on whenever you had come over you had eagerly awaited to see what Benedict had created next.

This little routine continued as you all got older. Of course after the passing of their Father, there was more comfort and reassurance whenever you had visited. Though, even in a time of such great sorrow, Benedict had portrayed that emotion within his paintings and drawings. You had been the one to support him and aid him in any such way possible.

As time continued, the two of your had grown closer. Of course you had grown closer with all the Bridgerton siblings, Benedict was the one you were closest with. The one you could also scope out at balls if you needed to escape another dreadfully boring dance partner, or an attempted suitor that was twice your age. Of course your father was there to ensure nothing of the sort would occur, but there would be times where Benedict was simply closer and much better at conversation.

Often Lady Whistledown commented on the you both, sometimes a bit too often. There would be whispers about you both, how often you dance with each other at balls or are seen giggling a bit tipsy with each other in the corners. Most of the time it had not bother you—when you were younger at least. Though as you blossomed and grew into yourself, you also were able to recognize your feelings. You believed it was around ten and six when you had realized you were doomed. That you had fallen completely in love with Benedict. It was not something you liked to think about nor dwell on for too long. Why would he, a Bridgerton, a most handsome, talented, funny, charming man like himself even think about courting you?

It was not that you felt like you were unattractive in some sort of way, you were rather pretty. But it was the fact that you were best friends with Benedict that caused you to think this way. There was a chance of him not returning those feelings. There was a chance that he would laugh in your face assuming it was a joke. There was a chance of him scoffing in your face and cutting you and your friendship off completely.

There was no chance that you would even consider taking that risk—no matter how often Daphne or hell, even Elouise would reassure you that he had returned those feelings to you.

Though one afternoon, you sat with him in the Bridgerton’s drawing room. You had been having some tea that Rose had gotten for you while Benedict drew. He drew with his charcoaled that made his long fingers turning an odd shade of black within his drawing pad. You had always admired the way he looked to serious when he drew. His eyebrows furrowed, causing wrinkles to cover his forehead. He also had this habit of tilting his head; you assumed it was to get a different angle on whatever his latest creations was. But your most favorite thing was when he would be stuck on something. Maybe it was because he could not draw it correctly, or the art was not coming out the way he wanted it to. But once he figures it out, or it comes out the way that he had wanted and the ways his eyes lit up with pride and eureka was your absolute favorite.

“what is it you are drawing today?” You asked, lifting the fragile porcelain to your lips as you take a small sip of the warm tea. Your eyes flicker from your cup to the Bridgerton across from you. And just in time too because was already looking at you. His body tensed slightly before he attempted to play it off.

“Nothing you must worry your head about,” he said in a teasing tone, as he most often did. But he was just trying to play it off when in reality it was you. He was drawing you, in your beautiful soft green dress, your hair done up into a neat braid to keep from your beautiful face. You looked stunning and he wanted to capture it like he had done many time before.

It was always you that he drew, especially when you plagued his thoughts in the late. Hours. Oh if you only knew that you were his muse. The very figure and image of you filled pages and pages of his work. Two of the things he loves most wrapped into one. But what if you were to find out? You would never return and that would break his heart. He was so in love with you it ached to not be able to hold you, kiss you when he wanted. He felt this especially at balls and suitors would come up to your constantly, it made his blood boil. But he had hoped he kept it well hidden. Well, enough to keep it from you. His family on the other hand seemed to know or notice it for quite sometime. According to his mother, both of your mother’s knew of it. Everyone seem to know. Everyone but you.

Too busy in his thoughts, he did not feel the dip in the sofa until it was too late. You had seated yourself right next to him with a small huff as you tried to peak at this new creation before he was able to hide it. But he managed, which caused you to pout slightly. Of those lips…he wanted nothing more to cup your face and kiss you right then and there.

“Benedict. You always show me your drawings,” you had insisted, which just caused the other to shake his head.

“Nonsense. There are plenty of work that you have not seen. Besides it is no good anyways, there is no point in showing it off if it is no good.” He said, giving his best friend a look. This only made you want to see more. “you always saw your work is no good and it is always beautiful. Let me see, please?” You pleaded as you took hold of a part of his drawing pad. There was some back and forth, some ‘no’s’ and ‘oh please’ as you both struggled to take proper hold of the pad.

Eventually his hands slipped and lost its grip on the pad, landing it right into your smaller grasp. “ha! I have got it now. Now, let us see what you have been working so hard on,” you tease before looking at the drawing Benedict had been working so hard on. It was a lady, a rather beautiful one. But the longer you looked, the more you realized that this lady in the charcoal had the same features as you. the same face shape, body type, hair—even the little scar that was right on the bridge of your nose that you had gotten as a child. And you face began to redden as you slowly looked towards Benedict. “Are…is this of me?” You ask in wonder, amazement and without a single sound of disgust or hated—this reassures Benedict a bit more at least.

He nods and before he could utter another word, you flip through pages; more drawings of you. “You make me look beautiful..” you say in wonder and this causes Benedict to furrow his eyebrows once more but not in concentration but confusion.

“Because you are beautiful. I draw what I see and what I see from you is…” he stopped himself from speaking another word, too afraid to come across as too forward. He took a breath, figuring now is a better time than ever. The Bridgerton boy took the drawing pad from your hands and placed it next to him before giving you his full attention. Your face is covered with blush, flustered from this whole thing.

“I suppose now I must explain myself before it comes across strangely. But I do draw you. More times than not because you plague my every waking moment, you have since we were children. You have captured my heart from years and you have refused to return it to me. My dearest friend…..my feelings for you grow into one where I want you by my side forever, not just in my drawings. You are my muse for everything I do and I cannot bear it being another nor you being with anyone else..” he said, “So I suppose-“

You cut him off by leaning forward and giving him a kiss. Your soft ones pressed against his own. It was bold and improper. But his words were moving and your heart would not stop its fluttering. So you had kissed him, hoping no one would see. The kiss was everything you both had imagined it would be like and more.

So once you had pulled away to his surprised but smug reaction, you simply nodded, “Of course, it would be delighted to court you, my dearest. I have been waiting so long for this moment.” You say, still almost not believing that your love was also your best friend.

“I suppose we both were a bit too blind and afraid to admit it, hm?” He chuckled, taking your hands in his, getting a bit of the charcoal onto your hands. You giggle and nod,

“Yes I suppose so. But I also would love to see these other drawings of me that you have mentioned,” you teased him, now making it his turn to blush as he realized what he had admitted.

“Perhaps another time…?” He asked hopefully and you grin mischievously, almost impishly.

“Or perhaps we can give you something else to draw,” you said suggestively continuing to tease him about such thing.

“Oh I quite like the sound of that,” Benedict grinned as he pulled you in for another quick kiss. Perhaps it was a good thing you had seen the drawings after all.

#bridgerton imagines #onlybeeewrites #bridgerton #Benedict #benedict bridgerton #Ben Bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader #anon post #send anons #friends to lovers #cute imagine #onlybeeeanswers #onlybeewrites #open asks

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