#natalie sinclair

[gravehags]

dreadful need in the devotee - natalie edit

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x OC (Curator!OC)

Rating: Mature

Tags: drunkenness, soft copia, general aching sweetness, slight horniness

Words: 1,676

Summary: Taking shots from Terzo is probably a bad idea, right? The cardinal helps take care of her in the aftermath.

a/n: this is the first installment in what i'm calling the natalie edit - essentially all the fics under my curator reader series category reworked with the OC that developed in my head midway through writing this series - natalie sinclair. lmk what yall think.

~~~

He’s never seen her like this before.

Granted, she’s only been working at the abbey for almost five months so it’s not saying much, but he likes to think he knows her better than anyone else here. Over those five months she and him have become close, particularly after Imperator directed him to assist her in her quest to curate the abbey’s art collection. It’s a daunting task, but her enthusiasm for the subject was infectious, as was the bright grin that always graced her features whenever she made some new, exciting discovery. Before her, he barely interacted with anyone else apart from his fratelli and Sister Imperator, and her presence has felt like a refreshing rain storm after a long stretch of sweltering, oppressive loneliness. He’s invigorated by her and her anxious energy, as if she emanates some sort of force field that draws him in.

Perhaps drawing him in in more ways than one.

Copia shakes off the thought and sets down his glass of chianti, returning his attention to what she is currently occupied with. Terzo has just passed her a shot of something dangerous Copia suspects comes from the Ministry’s own stills and she, having completely shaken off her mantle of shyness, accepts with aplomb. Copia winces as she downs the concoction, mirroring the slight gagging motion she makes. He knows the stuff all too well, thanks to Terzo in their youth. Secondo roars with laughter behind him, two siblings clinging to his sides, while Primo sits in the corner smiling and shaking his head. She performs a deep, if wobbly, curtsy, an electric grin twisting her flushed cheeks. When Terzo pulls her in for an intimate side hug to murmur something in her ear as siblings around her laugh and cheer, a bubble of jealousy surfaces in Copia’s belly. Whatever Terzo says to her makes her blush deeper and roll her eyes, shoving him away as he laughs jovially.

What he wouldn’t give to make her blush like that for him.

Copia, mood slightly soured, turns to leave the area when in an instant, she is by his side.

“Cardinale,” she says, swaying slightly towards him with bright eyes. “Are you leaving?”

He reaches backwards to a bookshelf where he had placed his biretta and favors her with a soft, apologetic smile.

“Eh, sì. I think it’s time.”

For a moment she looks devastated, then in a moment of panicked clarity, she places a hand on his arm.

“Me too,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Please get me out of here before Terzo gives me another one of those shots, that shit almost killed me.”

Her hushed confession makes him chuckle and before he can respond, she’s ushering him out of the room with her hand on the small of his back, making the tips of his ears turn pink. Once the both of them finally escape out the door and down the hall, she lets out a dramatic heaving sigh and collapses against the cool stone wall.

“Cardinal,” she says, eyes focused on something over his shoulder.

“Sì, cara mia?” He chances the endearment he’s been dying to gift upon her from the moment they met.

She refocuses back on him at his words and oh, the way her cheeks flush all the way across her chest. Take that, Terzo, Copia thinks triumphantly.

“Take me back to my rooms? I…don’t think I can find my way.”

He grins slightly and nods as she links her arm with his and he guides her further down the hall. The journey up several flights of stairs and down several more hallways is quiet, punctuated by the occasional loud hiccup from the brunette on his arm. He knows that silence from her all too well now - she’s contemplating something. She absentmindedly rubs at the red wool of his sleeve with her thumb and more than once, she leans into him as if she’s about to say something.

But she remains silent.

When they arrive at her rooms, she lets out a dramatic sigh and turns to him with a pout.

“Help me,” she whines, gripping his sleeves and dragging him towards the door.

“Sì, sì, I will help you. Ah…keys?”

She fumbles around with the small jeweled crossbody bag she brought to the party, doing a concerning amount of rummaging for such a small capacity item. Finally she emerges triumphant, presenting her room keys to him with a flourish. Delicately, he removes them from the tangle of her fingers and opens the door. She pushes past him only slightly in her eagerness to be inside the comfort of her own rooms, and the first thing she does is remove the heels she’s worn for the evening, violently flinging them across the room. He winces as he hears something crash and fall.

“I was not built for that shit,” she grouses, now stomping barefoot into the center of the room, where she stands and sways for several minutes.

“Eh, bed?” Copia provides helpfully, gesturing to the closed door on his right.

“Damn straight,” she announces, stumbling slightly over to the door and opening it.

Copia’s been in her quarters before. After checking in on her one night and finding her crying and homesick, she had let him in and the two of them bonded on her couch about the inherent loneliness of the abbey. That was the first time she had hugged him, a deep crushing thing filled with so much emotion it nearly made him faint. He didn’t wash that cassock for a week after that, too content to smell her perfume on it til it faded to nothingness. He has not, however, been in her bedroom.

He follows her in and takes in the surroundings - it’s a decent size, with a queen bed in the center and a dark wooden dresser. The first thing he notices is the walls are covered in art - no surprise there - and he smiles at the subject matter. Devils, witches, and temptresses decorate ornate frames she had likely found in various storage rooms in the abbey. He may make a sister of sin out of her yet. He’s so lost in his thoughts that for a moment he doesn’t notice how she moves to strip down in front of him. When he sees her begin to slide the straps of her dress down he starts with an exclamatory noise.

“Cara!” he shouts hoarsely, causing her to jump. “Not here!”

She looks confused for a moment before he looks around behind him and spots a black sleep chemise crumpled on the duvet. He grabs it and thrusts it into her hands before ushering her into the adjacent bathroom. She doesn’t protest, but Copia does spot the mischievous curl of her lips as she shuts the door behind her. When she has been safely secured away from his gaze he returns his attention to the room. Shuffling over to her dresser he begins to pick up and study the tchotchkes she has collected - various pointed crystal towers, a little ceramic pig, some kind of small animal skull, and – oh. Her perfume sits innocently amidst the clutter, the decorative bottle calling to him. Copia looks over his shoulder before picking it up and inhaling deep. He bolsters himself so he doesn’t collapse against the foot of her bed, but he feels almost as intoxicated as she is upon smelling its contents. He’s ashamed to admit how much it affects him, once again glancing over his shoulder as he adjusts himself through the abundant material of his cassock. Copia does not wear deviancy as easily as Terzo. He’s about to chastise himself for being a pervert when her bathroom door flies open. When he turns to see her, he exhales shakily.

Maybe he should have grabbed different pajamas.

She struts out towards him, the silk of her nightgown shining in the low light of the room, and gives him what can only be described as a sultry look before flinging herself on the duvet. His throat is dry as he regards her reclining on the material, writhing slightly in an attempt to get cozy, causing his thoughts to wander and darken. When she finally gets comfortable, she looks up at him from under her dark lashes and he turns slightly to hide the hardening of his cock. Her movements have caused the hem of her chemise to ride up her body, exposing the meat of her thigh and the large shape of a tattoo there to his gaze.

He didn’t even know she had a tattoo there.

“Eh, goodnight.” He moves to make a rapid exit from her bedroom but she grabs his sleeve with impressive speed, pulling him back to sit next to her on the bed. Copia knows his cheeks are violently red as she takes his gloved hand in hers and squeezes it. He looks at her askance and practically melts at the soft way she regards him.

“Il mio cardinale,” she murmurs, and before he can say anything she’s brought his hand to her mouth, kissing the gloved knuckles in an echo of the way he introduced himself to her all those months ago. All he can bring himself to do is nod and she smiles warmly at him, looking more sober now than she has all evening. 

“You’re always so good to me,” she says simply, making his heart swell.

“You’re easy to be good to,” Copia manages to whisper in response. The gleam in her eyes makes him feel exhilarated. Brave. The boldness she has inspired causes him to lean down and softly kiss her forehead, lips lingering on her skin.

“Buona notte, Natalia.”

He moves to pull away but she’s got her hand on his cheek in a breath, brushing her lips to the point of his neatly trimmed sideburns.

“Buona notte, Copia.”

When he finally brings himself to leave her bedroom, and then her quarters, he is bursting with radiant light. He wants to sing, to scream, to cry all at once. 

Take that, Terzo, indeed.

[sims-creations]

[natalie] “ian, I am serious! I understand how you must feel but your brother has a right to be here!”

[ian] “then you obviously don’t understand, nat! goddamn it, he was never supposed to be anywhere near my wife!”

[chelsea under her breath] “he kinda dated her first, so...”

[nathalie] “hush, jeanie!”

[enidtendo64]

More Wednesday x Yellowjackets bc I’m the only person who wants this specifically niche crossover alive

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

Return of the ex

Sinclair Bryant x reader

After a year, Natalie shows up again and Reader is not having it. (Takes place in the same timeline of “Coal and Cards” and “Blankets and Snuggles”)

———————————————————-

The hazy warmth of late summer had firmly settled in, and you and Sinclair were enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon, cuddled up on the day bed in the sunroom. Your head was pillowed against his chest as Sinclair read out loud from his book. The cozy feeling of his arm around your shoulders and the way his voice rumbled through his chest had you hovering in a sleepy haze. The peace of the moment was broken by the sound of the doorbell. Sinclair saved his place in the book, "I'll get it, Love." he said, as he untangled himself to get up. You stretched out comfortably as you heard his footsteps reach the door to open it, but you were snapped out of you half asleep state instantly when you heard him say the name neither of you hoped to hear again.

You got up and headed to the front door. When you reached the hall, you saw Sinclair standing in the doorway, one hand holding the door, his shoulders tense, and a blonde woman standing in front of him. "Won't you please talk to me?" She said in an annoying pleading tone. Sinclair's voice was uncharacteristically flat, "We have nothing to talk about. Why are you even here?" "I made a mistake, I know it, but we can still work things out." "Natalie, I told you it was over a year ago. There is nothing to work out, I don't feel anything for you anymore. We're done." "You can't just throw away the years we had like they were nothing."

Having heard more than enough, you stepped up behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist. You felt his tension start to relax at your touch and you leant closer against him. "Honey, who's this?" You asked innocently, even though your eyes narrowed at the woman in front of you. Sinclair sighed slightly, "This is my ex-wife. And she was just leaving." Before she could say another word, Sinclair closed and locked the door before turning and walking away. You stayed near the door for a few moments, watching through the frosted glass to make sure she'd left before going to look for Sinclair. You found him in the living room, his hands braced on the back of the couch, leaning heavily against it. You went to hug him, resting your head against his back and rubbing your hand gently across his chest, "Hey. It's okay, she'd gone." You spoke gently. You felt him take a deep breath and start to relax against your touch. You pressed a kiss firmly against his shoulder before saying, "It's getting late in the day. Will you help me get dinner started?" "Yeah." He answered, his voice lacking its usual mellow strength, "Of course, love." He stood and turned in your arms, giving you a tight, reassuring hug before stepping back, taking your hand and heading to the kitchen with you.

A few days passed and you and Sinclair had put the incident of the creepy ex out of your minds. You should have known it wouldn't be that easy though. It was a Wednesday evening. Sinclair had gotten home from work and had headed upstairs for a shower and not long after the front doorbell rang. It was Natalie again. She looked surprised to see you and you were internally glad you managed to unsettle her. "I...I want to talk to Sinclair." Your frown deepened, "He's made it clear that he has nothing to say to you. You have no place here." "I'm his wife!" She yelped indignantly and you felt your blood boil. "Ex-wife." You practically growled, "And honestly, you lost all right to call yourself Sinclair's wife when you started shagging your brother." You had a lot of pent-up rage at this woman who had broken Sinclair's heart and now was your chance to release some of it, "What are you doing here anyway? Hoping he'll welcome you back with open arms, all is forgiven?" The look in her eyes let you know that's exactly what she was hoping for. "As I said before," you said flatly now, "He wants nothing to do with you. Now get away from our house." Her eyes flashed at your wording, and she seemed to finally put two and two together, "You're living together?" She asked, incredulously. You smirked, "Not that it's any of your business, but yes we are. We've been together since Christmas." Natalie's mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish before she stammered out, "How could he!...he just...he just moved on so soon...like what we had was nothing..?!" "Oh shut up!" You snapped, now fully sick of her. "You pathetic, creepy, deceitful bitch! You broke his trust, you broke his heart, and now you have the absolute gall to act outraged that he doesn't want anything to do with you and that he found someone who actually loves and cares about him!" Natalie actually took a stap back away from you. "Right now, the only reason I'm not tearing your hair out is because I'd rather not go to jail for assault." You snapped, "But if you don't clear out and stay out, I'm gonna drag you to the river and reinvent the ducking chair." Finally getting the hint, Natalie turned and hurried down the path to the gate. "Good riddance." You muttered under your breath before slamming and locking the door. You turned and froze as you saw Sinclair standing at the foot of the stairs" "Hi Love," you said, "Um, how much of that did you see?" "A fair chunk of it." He answered, looking at you with adoring soft eyes, "You're quite fierce when you're angry." You huffed a little, walking towards him, "She deserved it. God she's awful." As you reached him, you snuggled against his chest, "You deserve so much better." Sinclair looped his arms around your waist and rested his cheek on your top of your head, “I have the best right here.”

[digitalfountains]

Natalie Jayne Roser by Sophia Sinclair

[iddybyddybee]

Ladles, gentles, and n’beetles, for Pride Month ‘23, I present the three recent ships that are currently rotting my brain: RoNance, WenClair, and MistyNat.

I know none of them will be canon, but I am a hopeless romantic and a sap for opposites attract, so I keep on dreaming. Just one profession of love will do~

[evans23]

I just rewatched Close my eyes and I’m still as stunned as the other times. Ok, Sinclair talks a lot, maybe too much but he is clearly in love with her. You want to work ? Good, work but don’t forget that you can’t stop this shitty work making you sad at any time, I can support you with all my money while you’re living a more lavishing life than the one you are already living now. You want to go out with friends for a whole weekends ? Yeah I don’t mind, have fun. You’re feeling beside yourself ? Let me spoiling you with shows and some sightseeing tour even though I’ve already understood you’re having an affair with your brother.

Oh, so I was right, you were really having an affair with your brother, your real brother, connected to you by blood ? Good. I am keeping a cold head. No, I won’t scream or kill one or even both of you. I am far above that kind of behaviour compared to you little rascals.

Yeah, to put in a nutshell, Sinclair has his shortcomings , the said shortcomings being him talking without stopping but what could he do, Natalie is so mundane, making no effort to be a minimum interested about any of his interests and she doesn’t seem to have any of hers except going on a shopping spree spending money on clothes. But Natalie has no excuse. She cheats on her husband to set on fire a life she considered boring until she realised what she could lose. She used her stupid brother because she had no fun in her life rather than communicate with her husband about how she was feeling !

Oh and can we talk about this moment when she has a jealousy crisis because she thinks Sinclair is having an affair (just after she has shagged her brother) because the hard-worker putting food on the table is not at his office… only to discover with a disgusting jubilation he was just having a meal with a good book… all alone because his wife was too occupied to fuck her brother to have any interest for him or to enter in the restaurant to keep him company…

Yes, definitely, she is just a supercilious little girl who is never happy even when she has everything to be so.

[cultswans]

like or reblog if you save.

[11eleven-hopper]

ST

[mediagifs]

[lottiematthewsbf]

Masterlist (wip)

Yellowjackets

Scream

Five Nights at Freddy's

Warrior Nun

Gen V

[gravehags]

can't find you in the dark - natalie edit

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x OC (Curator!OC)

Rating: Mature

Tags: brief dracopia, both cardinal copia AND natalie being awkward little fucking nerds, horror movie discussion, sexy dreams

Words: 1,758

Summary: She's been working at the abbey for three months and there's just something special about the Cardinal. Her subconscious agrees.

a/n: second installment in the natalie edit, come get yall food

~~~

There was little she loved more than chilly October nights, and her time at the abbey only solidified this. Every night before bed she would open the two leaded glass windows in her room, their diamond panes glittering in the low light from her bedside lamp. She slept best like this, surrounded by cool, fresh air bundled contentedly under her plush duvet.

She’s restless tonight however. Something is amiss.

When she turns over from her side to her back, she sees why.

Sitting in partial darkness in the cozy chair of her reading nook is a figure cloaked in shadows. She should feel frightened - should scream for help in the presence of the intruder but something within her tells her one thing.

She knows this man.

He leans forward and when she finally glimpses his face, a wave of relief washes over her.

“Cardinal,” she breathes, hand over her heart. “What…what are you doing in here?”

“I had to see you, dolcezza,” he whispers hoarsely, standing as she blushes at the nickname. His garb is different from the usual red or black cassock she’s seen him in - a simple stylized suit - and there is no excess fabric to mask anything. Particularly what is happening at the juncture of his thighs.

She knows she’s ogling him as he advances upon her bed but the tight black suit and unusual short bat-like cloak he wears around his shoulders is intriguing, to say the least.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

She’s fully sat up against the pillows now, hands in her lap when he sits down next to her on the bed.

“Sì,” he murmurs, “dolcezza, will you permit me?”

Her heart flutters once more at the endearment he’s never bestowed upon her before tonight. She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into but she gives her breathless answer anyway.

“Anything.”

She gasps as he turns to fully face her, and she jumps when he places a gloved hand on her belly. His body slides closer even as his hand slides further upwards, pushing her flat against the bed until he is cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She’s forgotten how to breathe as he caresses her, teasing her nipple into hardness. He moves his face close to hers - so close - and she’s enveloped in the scent of his cologne.

“I need you,” he breathes into her neck. “Natalia, please let me. Per favore, permettimi di averti.”

Bringing her hand up to the side of his face, she cups his cheek, thumb running along his neatly trimmed sideburn. He looks desperate, hungry even and so she nods, still unsure of his intentions. Copia lets out a shuddering breath before leaning back down into her neck, lips touching her pulse point. With his hand still resting on her breast, he licks at the skin there, causing her to sigh, before sinking his teeth into the supple flesh. She starts and begins to panic, but he’s holding her so tenderly, fingers toying with her nipple as he begins to hungrily suck. The pain is gone soon enough and is replaced by the most heady feeling of pleasure. His moans echo in her ears and her hips buck upwards, desperate for friction, all the while he drinks from her. And drinks. Each graze of his sharp teeth and swipe of his tongue against her skin makes her gasp and writhe, cunt throbbing. He doesn’t slow his actions, but she’s content to lay there in his grasp as he drains her of life. Her eyes slip into blackness for a moment before–

Before the blaring of her phone alarm.

God fucking dammit.

She hauls herself out of bed and moves through her morning routine as if puppeteered by some higher force - putting no real thought into her actions as she gets ready for the day. She’s so consumed by her dream that she bumps into someone in the hallway.

Someone very familiar.

“Signorina Sinclair! Ah, mi dispiace, I did not see you there.”

His voice finally seems to be the thing that snaps her out of her reverie, and she shakes her head.

“Oh, no Cardinal, it's my fault. Head too full, you know?”

He nods and gestures with his head to the towering stack of books balanced in his arms, obscuring most of his face with only his black biretta peeking out.

“Eh, shall we continue our research from yesterday on that sculpture? In my office?”

Her heart skips a beat at the suggestion of being alone with him and if her response is a tad too eager, he doesn’t notice. Now walking by his side down the hall, she reaches for a few of the books from his stack to lighten his load. When she sees his face for the first time since her dream last night - handsome and freckled - her face heats up and she quickly looks away before he can register the deep flush on her pale cheeks. She’s only known him for three months of her life but she’s come to learn that there is something so very special about him. Maybe someday she’ll tell him he’s the only person who has made the abbey feel like home.

The books are heavy and old, and she’s thankful when the two of them finally reach Copia’s door. Usually he would come to her office adjacent to the library for this kind of research, but she’s glad for his invitation today. As Copia finagles the door handle and swings it open, she’s reminded of why she loves this room so much. She’s only been in it a handful of times, brief moments at that, but there is something incredibly charming about it. Bookcases line every bare inch of wall, stuffed to the brim with tomes on everything from Satanic scripture to Catholic iconography. She greatly appreciates the diversity of his collection and for a while now has been working up the courage to ask to borrow some texts. At the center of the room sits his desk - a commanding mahogany thing - with one high-backed chair behind it and one in front. Light filters in from the leaded glass windows alongside one corner of the room, bouncing shadows upwards onto the intricate coffered ceilings. The room suits him incredibly well, and immediately sets her at ease with its warmth.

“Are you going to stand in the doorway all day, signorina?” he teases lightly, setting his stack down on top of his paper-strewn desk before removing his biretta. God, she loves that silly little hat.

“Yeah, yeah sorry I, uh, didn’t sleep well last night.”

Setting his biretta down on his desk he shuffles over to her, brows knit in concern.

“Are you unwell?” he asks, hesitantly reaching his gloved hands out to her. By the time she’s worked up the courage to take them in hers, he’s pulling away and she’s kicking herself.

“No, no. Just…had a weird dream.” She falls silent for a moment as she walks over and takes the chair opposite him. “You were in it.”

She’s blurting it out before she can control herself and immediately swearing loudly and profusely in her head.

He sits down behind his desk and she notices that the tips of his ears are red.

Huh. Cute.

“Yeah uh,” she clears her throat, tapping her fingers against her thigh, “you were a vampire.”

It sounds so stupid now as it exits her mouth but his head cocks to the side in interest.

“Oh? Un vampiro…was I very dashing?”

The tension she’s feeling is broken by the goofy, roguish grin he wears and the way he runs his hand over his silver threaded brown hair. 

“Very. You had a cape and everything.”

His grin becomes wider. “You know as a child, I watched many old horror movies. I wanted to be Dracula but ah…was never quite smooth enough, hmm?”

“Hmm instead you’ve turned into Vincent Price, which one can argue is far more attractive. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Bela Lugosi but there’s just something about Vincent.”

What the actual fuck is wrong with her today and the way she’s running her mouth? She’s about to blurt out an apology, an explanation, anything when he smooths his leather clad fingers over his mustache, cheeks aflame.

“Eh, you…you think so?”

Double or nothing. “Absolutely.”

“Bella signorina,” he murmurs, avoiding her gaze. “You are far too kind to this old cardinal.”

She thinks back to her dream, the way his hand cradled her breast as he lapped at her neck. The way her cunt positively ached even after she woke up. She swallows thickly.

“Have you ever, uh. Have you ever seen Nosferatu?”

“Which one?” he replies without skipping a beat. “Murnau or Herzog?”

Now that gives her butterflies in her stomach and makes the edges of her lips curl.

“Both, but for these purposes Herzog. That movie has such a dreamlike quality to it. Kinski portrays him with such sadness. Anyway, that’s the kind of vampire you were like in my dream.”

She pulls a large book from the stack on the desk and begins busying herself with note taking while he processes what she just said.

“Herzog’s Nosferatu is eh…far more erotic. Wouldn’t you agree?”

All the color drains from her face and her hand stills mid-page turn. When she finally works up the courage to respond, her voice is hoarse.

“Y-yes. Uh yeah, most definitely.”

“Particularly the way he feeds on Lucy, sì? Caressing her, intimately exploring her.”

His head is cocked and he’s not looking at her, clearly lost in his own thoughts about the film. That’s the only reason she knows he’s not tormenting her on purpose with this line of questioning and observation. His hand is under his chin, elbow propped on the desk. The morning light casts shadows on his dramatic profile, illuminating the freckles dusted over his cheekbones and she has to pinch herself from sighing at the sight.

“Ah, anyway!” he announces suddenly, slapping the leather clad palms of his hands on the surface of his desk. “We have much work to do, Natalia. Perhaps if you’ll join me for lunch, we could eh. Continue our conversation? About horror movies, that is.” Now he’s the one blushing, hands fidgeting with the corners of his biretta as he casts her a shy glance.

Wow, she thinks to herself, he sure is something.

“Definitely,” she says with an encouraging smile. “It’s a date.”

Her wording makes him choke inelegantly on his own spit as she smiles beatifically at him.

Lovely.

[sims-creations]

[leon] “seems like helena’s enjoying herself quite a lot in that handsome fella’s company, don’t you think, nat?”

[natalie] “oh hush, leon! they’re just drunk and having a good time!”

[leon laughing] “exactly my point, ma’am!”

and then there was angelica, probably the only person left at this party who was still sober and happy to be so. leon wasn’t wrong with his comment about helena and tristan. even a blind person could see how well they got along. still it wasn’t a good look that by now she seemed to have only eyes for him. and yet there was her aunt sitting on her ex-husbands lap right next to her, giggling like a drunk school girl, so why even bother...

[nataliecstrange]

Sketchbook spread of Wednesday & Enid

[digitalfountains]

Natalie Jayne Roser by Sophia Sinclair

[cam3ron77]

making the gays the housing in my world with me bestie

fill my asks with recommendations for house and ill make them since i need inspiration