#search & bid

[territorial-utopia]

Hyvää Joulua! Good Yule!!

Since I can't yet spend my yule with @theshiftingworkshop I need to compensate with art. Totally not inspired by an ice skating show we went to see together while I was visiting her. The outfits with bows were gorgeous and the men had white tail coats and UGH! What's better than dressing up as the present when you're v smol-

[letyouknowinc]

💘 Happy Valentine’s Day! 💘

LetYouKnow.com is the perfect match for new car buyers & dealerships.

Here’s why:

For New Car Buyers: 🚗 Search & Bid for exploring new cars with stated prices & all dealer fees included for transparent prices 💡 Think you found the lowest price? Bid lower with Price Bid. All dealer fees are included in your bid & you’ll know instantly if your bid is accepted. If it isn’t, just bid again 🙌 No awkward negotiations, keeping you in control of your new car purchase 📦 Many new cars offer free shipping

For Dealerships: 🏢 Receive committed new car buyers ready to purchase 💰 Free to sign up with no subscription fees & $0 customer acquisition cost ⚙ Autopilot simplifies inventory setup, making it easy and hassle-free

📱 Sign-up is easy for dealers at Dealer.LetYouKnow.com 📱

[elspeth-catton]

ahhhhh your girl finally won the bid for one of the saltburn tubs

[finchers-ipad]

THIS ISNT GOING TO MEAN ANYTHING TO ANYONE BUT I JUST WON A VINTAGE ‘PROPAGANDA FILMS’ CREW JACKET ON EBAY!!!

Basically, Fincher co-founded this music video and film production company (also a few commercials) in 1986 and they produced a few major films (‘Being John Malkovich’, ‘Adaptation’ and ‘The Game’) as well as a lot of less popular ones, but they mainly just did music videos. Some of the most popular music videos being: ‘Gimmie Shelter’ by The Rolling Stones, ‘Vogue’ by Madonna, ‘Day-In Day-Out’ by David Bowie and literally SO MANY MORE. And the company was eventually dissolved in 2002. But yeah i’m just using this as an excuse to info dump because i’m so happy i got it 😭.

[bakerstreethound]

I forget how therapeutic baking can be, and just bustling around the kitchen is motivating to wash dishes I put off for a few days. It's much better than just up and forcing myself to do it and fear/scare myself into doing it, which has the opposite effect.

[andmineworlddigitalmarketing]

How to Build a Winning Strategy for Paid Search Advertising

Paid search advertising, also known as pay-per-click (PPC) advertising or Google Ads strategy, is a powerful tool for businesses of all sizes. When properly done, paid advertising can bring a lot of web traffic to your site, produce leads, and increase sales. Nevertheless, you have to follow the process of developing an outfit search engine marketing campaign that is a sustainable one. This includes careful planning and strategy development etc.

1. Set Clear and Measurable Goals:

Before dealing with the ad creation, you need to set concrete and well-measured goals for business. What do you want to reach as a result? Perhaps you want to raise your products’ popularity with your target audience, get leads, sell your production online or an idea of these?

2. Conduct Thorough Keyword Research:

The process involving a prosperous PPC campaign lies in the investigation of proper keywords. Review the exact words that seekers form your target sector when they are looking for a product or service like yours. Google keyword planner is among the tools that ca be used for sourcing not only the precise keywords but also for the evaluation of their volume with their specific search phrase and required level of difficulty to match their ranking. 

3. Create Compelling and Targeted Ads:

Craft ad copy that is relevant to the keywords you are targeting and entices users to click. Do not forget to make the USP unique, promote the benefits, and have a good call to action. 

4. Optimize Landing Pages for Conversions:

After the ad is clicked, the user should be sent to a special ad-specific page. The page should be optimized for higher conversions, by using a short, clear, and strong call to action and removing any elements that prevent the customer from converting.

5. Implement a Robust Bidding Strategy:

Choose a bidding strategy that encapsulates your campaign objective. There are several choices:

 Manual bidding: Allows you to control your bids in a finer way but demands more effort and time. 

Automated bidding: Employs machine learning to adjust bids for conversion or other targets.

6. Track, Analyze, and Optimize:

The comprehensive study of conversion can provide you with important data on the performance of your campaign whereby you could compare key metrics such as click-through rates(CTR), conversion rates, and ROAS. You should cut out time for your decision on the restructuring of the PPC advertising campaign

7. Stay Updated on Industry Trends:

Search advertising is an ever-changing field and one has to be at pace with it. Keep yourself aligned with the latest advancements of search engines, bidding strategies, and the best practices to outperform the rest. 

Through these steps and your active modification of strategies, you can develop a successful paid search advertising plan that will bring unexpected outcomes for your business. 

Conclusion

PPC success mostly relies upon the ability to carve out clear goals that are in terms with relevant keywords, authoring ads which are captivating, setting up landings that are the main focal point of giving to the audience and selecting a right bidding strategy before. Continuous monitoring, analysis, and adaptation are significant factors in getting the maximum returns and growth which will last for a longer time.

[staff]

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[alvinstrat]

AI/ML Has A Long Way To Go

We still have a long way to go before AI can truly replace humans. AI is very useful as a layer of checks and in many repetitive routine tasks but humans are often still needed to oversee the AI.

Case in point, Search and Social media buying in Marketing.

Google has been using AI for years in Paid Search. During the earlier years, Paid Search was often too complicated and time consuming for the average person (marketer or small business owner) to learn and use within months. Google wanted to make it easier to use Paid Search, since it would boost their revenues.

I still remember that during the earlier years, I avoided using 'automated bidding' entirely because it was bidding very badly. But over the years, it gradually was refined and today it is a 'must use' for anyone buying media in Paid Search and Social. A skilled media buyer has changed from doing the keywords, biddings and audience targeting to monitoring and controlling the algos and complementing the algos with manual campaigns (to fix their deficiencies).

However, humans who have in depth knowledge are still needed to oversee these algos as they often have many deficiencies that requires skilled humans to correct. Running it fully automated will result in a lot of wasted spend (ironically, the digital platforms and their account managers would prefer some wasted spend as it increases their revenues, which is a minor conflict of interests) although conceivably I can see it performing better than someone with 0-2 YOE.

With advancement of technology, there is always a risk of doing great harm, for example, nuclear bombs, missiles, submarines, etc. AI can be used to do harm, of course.

[brownrice03]

How to Improve Your Google Ads Position Without Increasing Bids

Are you struggling with low ad positions on Google Ads while having a limited budget? It's a common challenge faced by many advertisers. The temptation to increase bids may seem like the obvious solution, but it's not always feasible, especially if you're working with a tight budget. However, you can employ several effective strategies to enhance your ad position without breaking the bank. This comprehensive guide will explore actionable steps to improve your Google Ads position without increasing bids.

[sheryasharmak1]

Elevating Your Digital Marketing with Expert PPC Campaign Management Services

In the ever-evolving landscape of digital marketing, the power of Pay-Per-Click (PPC) advertising shines brightly as a beacon for businesses aiming to enhance their online visibility and drive more targeted traffic to their websites. This form of advertising, where businesses pay a fee each time one of their ads is clicked, presents a golden opportunity to appear in front of potential customers precisely when they're searching for related services or products. However, the true essence of a successful PPC campaign lies not just in its execution but in its strategic management. This is where PPC campaign management services step in, bridging the gap between potential and success.

The Importance of PPC in Digital Marketing

PPC advertising is more than just an advertising channel; it's a strategic tool that offers immediacy and precision in reaching target audiences. Unlike traditional SEO strategies that take time to yield results, PPC campaigns can generate immediate traffic and offer quick insights into market behavior. However, navigating the complexities of PPC campaigns requires a blend of strategic insight, analytical skills, and ongoing optimization, underscoring the significance of PPC campaign management services. These services ensure that every dollar you spend is an investment toward achieving your business objectives, making efficiency and effectiveness the hallmarks of your digital marketing efforts.

Choosing the Right PPC Campaign Management Service

The marketplace is teeming with agencies and firms offering PPC campaign management services, but choosing the right partner is pivotal. A proficient service provider understands the nuances of different PPC platforms, whether Google Ads, Bing Ads, or social media advertising platforms like Facebook and LinkedIn. They bring to the table a deep understanding of keyword research, ad copywriting, bid management, and conversion optimization, ensuring your campaigns are not just seen but also resonate with your target audience. The right service will work as an extension of your marketing team, fully aligned with your business's goals and values.

Key Components of Effective PPC Campaign Management

Effective PPC campaign management services delve into the heart of your business objectives, tailoring campaigns that speak directly to your target audience. They start with comprehensive keyword research, identifying the terms and phrases your customers are using to search for your products or services. This step is critical in ensuring your ads appear for the right searches.

Ad copy optimization is another crucial component, where the focus is on creating compelling ad texts that attract clicks. This involves A/B testing different headlines, descriptions, and calls to action to determine what works best.

Bid management is about finding the sweet spot where you're paying enough to get your ads seen but not overpaying for clicks. Expert PPC campaign management services use sophisticated algorithms and historical data to adjust bids in real time, maximizing your return on investment.

Lastly, conversion tracking and analytics are what turn data into insights. By understanding which ads, keywords, and landing pages are driving conversions, PPC managers can continually refine and optimize campaigns for better performance.

The Benefits of Leveraging PPC Campaign Management Services

The complexities of PPC management can be daunting, especially for businesses with limited digital marketing resources. By partnering with a specialized service, you gain access to expertise and technologies that can transform your PPC campaigns from an expense into a strategic investment. These services can significantly reduce wasted spend by targeting only the most relevant audiences and optimizing your campaigns for conversions, not just clicks.

Moreover, PPC campaign management services stay abreast of the latest trends, platform updates, and best practices, ensuring your campaigns leverage cutting-edge strategies. This proactive approach to campaign management can be the difference between staying ahead of the competition and playing catch-up.

Success Stories: PPC Campaign Transformations

Real-world success stories underscore the transformative power of expert PPC campaign management services. Businesses across various industries, from e-commerce to B2B services, have seen significant improvements in their campaign performance, achieving higher conversion rates, lower cost per acquisition, and improved ROI. These success stories not only serve as testimonials to the efficacy of professional PPC management but also offer insights and inspiration for businesses still on the fence about investing in these services.

How to Get Started with a PPC Management Service

Embarking on the journey with a PPC campaign management service begins with a comprehensive audit of your current digital marketing efforts and identifying your specific goals. This initial assessment helps tailor a strategy that aligns with your business objectives. From there, setting up and launching your campaigns is handled by experts, allowing you to focus on your business while your digital marketing works harder for you.

Conclusion

In the digital age, where visibility and engagement are the currencies of success, PPC campaign management services offer a strategic advantage. They enable businesses to navigate the complexities of PPC advertising, ensuring that every campaign is not just a shot in the dark but a calculated step towards achieving marketing objectives.

[reasonsforhope]

Article | Paywall Free

"A bid to break up Alphabet Inc.’s Google is one of the options being considered by the Justice Department after a landmark court ruling found that the company monopolized the online search market, according to people with knowledge of the deliberations.

The move would be Washington’s first push to dismantle a company for illegal monopolization since unsuccessful efforts to break up Microsoft Corp. two decades ago. Less severe options include forcing Google to share more data with competitors and measures to prevent it from gaining an unfair advantage in AI products, said the people, who asked not to be identified discussing private conversations.

Regardless, the government will likely seek a ban on the type of exclusive contracts that were at the center of its case against Google. If the Justice Department pushes ahead with a breakup plan, the most likely units for divestment are the Android operating system and Google’s web browser Chrome, said the people. Officials are also looking at trying to force a possible sale of AdWords, the platform the company uses to sell text advertising, one of the people said.

The Justice Department discussions have intensified in the wake of Judge Amit Mehta’s Aug. 5 ruling that Google illegally monopolized the markets of online search and search text ads. Google has said it will appeal that decision, but Mehta has ordered both sides to begin plans for the second phase of the case, which will involve the government’s proposals for restoring competition, including a possible breakup request.

The US plan will need to be accepted by Mehta, who would direct the company to comply. A forced breakup of Google would be the biggest of a US company since AT&T was dismantled in the 1980s."

-via Bloomberg, August 13, 2024

[loonylupinblack3]

Period Trouble

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?

Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its like…. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it

You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadn’t emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.

You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body. 

There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.

You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When you’d tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

She took one look at you and sighed. “What are you wearing?”

You looked down perplexed. “....my clothes?”

She raised her eyebrow. “You’re on a mission today, remember?”

Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavier’s bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.

Storm sent you a questioning look. “You up for this?”

The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you weren’t privy to. He’d just asked for help and you’d volunteered.

Oh how you regretted that decision now.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you muttered. “Let me just get changed real quick.”

Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.

“Why aren’t you in your outfit?” you asked, just realising Storm wasn’t wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.

She winced slightly. “Can’t go. Filling in for some classes.”

Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, she’d obviously choose her kids. You couldn’t blame her exactly, but it meant you’d have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.

You sighed. “That’s okay. I can go alone.”

When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. “Storm…..”

She sighed guiltily. “Xavier didn’t want you to go alone. The herb’s too valuable.”

You tilted your head slightly as you entered the house’s foyer. “So who am I going with then?”

Storm’s eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, “you’re looking at him sweetheart.”

You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didn’t necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.

You couldn’t say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, “lovely,” and walked past the man to the garage.

He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. You’d just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.

“What is it?” you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.

Logan’s eyes roved your body, searching for something. “You’re injured.”

It was your turn to frown. “What? No I’m not.”

He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. “Don’t bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.”

You made a face. “What are you talking about…..” you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.

Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury. 

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. “I can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. “I can assure you, I am not injured.”

You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. “If you think I am going on this mission with you while you’re wounded, you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m not-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot darl? Is that why you’re denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-”

You cut him off. “I’m on my period, Logan.”

He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasn’t your fault nor your concern.

Eventually he spoke. “Alright then. Get in the car. I’m driving.”

You scowled at him. “Says who?”

He didn’t even bother looking at you, already in the driver’s seat. “Says me.”

You sighed but didn’t argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.

“It’s an hour's drive to the city, give or take,” you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.

Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.

As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, you’d almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen you’d forgotten to grab.

Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Logan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.

You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasn’t at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.

When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.

“Should be somewhere along this street,” you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.

Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.

Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough you’d lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.

“Stay close to me,” Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. “Don’t wanna lose you again.”

You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. “How’d you find me?”

He gave you a smirk. “Followed the smell of blood.”

Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist. 

Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Logan’s face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.

An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.

“Mrs May?” you asked.

The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “That’s me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?”

You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldn’t have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Logan’s chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.

“We’re not here for flowers unfortunately,” Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didn’t he specify you weren’t a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?

Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones. 

The old lady looked at you two curiously. “Then how can I help you?”

There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. “Ah, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, I’ll be back….”

Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.

You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.

You frowned back at him. “What’s up with you today?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “What is up with me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed Darl but you haven’t exactly been up to par yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. “That’s not what I meant, and besides, I’m on my period.”

Logan stared at you, arms crossed. “What did ya mean then?”

“You’ve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.”

Logan snorted. “Ever the lady.”

“I’m serious. What’s up with you?”

Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. “You are what’s up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I can’t get it out of my mind that it means you’re hurt. You’re driving me crazy sweetheart.”

Well…. That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

Logan chuckled. “Not your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.”

You swallowed, looking back up at him. “Well…. Don’t you constantly smell when people are on their periods?”

“It’s different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Can’t get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.”

The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think he’d been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.

“I’m glad you care,” was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.

Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. “I do a lot more than care, Y/n.”

You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.

Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.

As soon as the shop’s door closed behind you Logan’s hand was back around your waist. “Not losing you this time.”

You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didn’t even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driver’s seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.

You looked at him but he didn’t say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didn’t have it out for you after all.

[parkerslatte]

Weak At The Knees

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

Summary: At Starfall, Y/N is searching for Azriel and when she eventually finds him, she is surprised to find him drunker then she had ever seen him before.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

As Y/N turned, her dress spun around her elegantly. The light blue was a contrast to everyone else’s darker gowns making her stand out within the mass of people. Y/N hadn’t picked the dress she wore, that had been down to her mate. Her mate who she hadn’t seen in a while. 

She scanned the room and didn’t see his face in the crowd, nor did she see the shadows that were usually resting calmly upon his shoulders. There was no trace of him. 

“Feyre,” Y/N said, catching the attention of the High Lady. 

Feyre stepped away from Rhys and turned to Y/N with a tired smile. “Y/N, I haven’t seen you all night!”

“I know but I’ve been in search of my mate all night,” Y/N replied. “Have either of you seen him?”

The High Lady shook her head. “The last time I saw him, he was with you.”

Y/N sighed. “That was about an hour ago.”

Y/N looked around the room and out of the corner of her eye spotted a shadow darting towards her. Y/N quickly bid Rhys and Feyre a goodbye and walked to the shadow. It darted out and wrapped around her body, Y/N shivered. Despite his shadows not being a physical being, they were always chilly to the touch and she could swear that she felt Azriel’s hands in their caress. 

“Now where is your master?” Y/N muttered and followed as the shadow led her to a door. 

Y/N opened it and smiled at the sight. Azriel was slumped on the floor, his wings stretched out at his sides, seemingly laying on the floor. An empty bottle resided beside him as he looked out of the floor to ceiling window. 

“There you are,” Y/N said, walking over to her mate. 

Azriel’s head snapped to her and a lopsided grin spread across his face. “Y/N, come and sit with me.”

The moment Y/N sat down beside him, Azriel frowned. “I need you closer.”

Y/N shuffled closer and Azriel continued to frown. “Not close enough.”

Azriel let his legs fall open and gestured for Y/N to sit between them. Y/N chuckled and did as he wanted. 

“Where have you been for the past hour?” Y/N asked as she leant back in his arms. 

Azriel pressed her back to his chest firmly, pressing a soft kiss on the back of her neck. “I’ve been here, waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” Y/N questioned, fully relaxing into Azriel’s arms. “Az, I had no clue where you were.”

“Oh, I thought I told you to meet me here?” Azriel asked, caressing her arms, causing goosebumps to trail in his wake. 

“No, my love,” Y/N said. “You never did.”

Azriel huffed. “That explains a lot. I thought you forgot about me.”

“Sweetheart, I could never forget about you,” Y/N said, turning her head to look at him. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not a lot,” Azriel replied, burying his head into the crook of her neck. 

“Then explain the empty bottle beside you,” Isal said, cupping his face. 

“That was for my shadows,” Azriel replied, fighting a grin trying to force its way onto his face.

“I completely believe that1,” Y/N said with a smile as she pulled away from Azriel and stood to her feet. 

Azriel reached out for her, a pout on his face. Y/N chuckled. Azriel rarely ever got this drunk, in fact he rarely ever got tipsy. It had been years since she had seen Azriel indulge this much. 

“Come on,” Y/N said and held Azriel’s hands in hers. 

“Where are we going?” Azriel asked, stumbling to his feet causing Y/N to balance him. 

“To get you to bed,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms around her mate. 

“I don’t want to go to bed,” Azriel complained. He wrapped his arms around her waist tightly and rested his forehead against hers. “I want to stay here with you.” Azriel pressed a sloppy kiss against her lips. “I wanted to stay here and share a drink with you.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “You took care of that yourself, my love.”

Azriel sighed., frustrated with himself. “Will you come to bed with me?”

Y/N smiled and caressed his face. “Of course. Now come on.”

Y/N led Azriel out of the room, him clinging to her the whole time. There were eyes on them immediately when they stepped out, everyone clearly not used to seeing Azriel act the way he was. 

“I was wondering where Az slipped away to,” Cassian commented, sliding up to the mated pair. 

“He was hiding away in a separate room waiting for me,” Y/N answered while Azriel simply pulled her back against his chest. “An idea he completely forgot to tell me about.”

Cassian looked at Azriel and a quiet laugh sipped past his lips. “It’s been years since I’ve seen him this drunk. But I’ve never seen him like this, the last time he was just…broodier than usual.”

“That’s not true,” Azriel mumbled against Y/N’s head. “Y/N, tell him that it’s not true.”

Y/N laced her fingers with his. “Cass, it isn’t true.”

Cassian laughed and finished off his drink. “Well, I’ll let you get Az to bed. Mother help me when we go to training tomorrow with his hangover.”

Y/N peeled herself away from Azriel, to his dismay. She wrapped Cassian in a quick hug. “Well it’s a good thing that is your problem and not mine.”

“He’s your problem tonight,” Cassian said and pulled away. 

Almost immediately, Azriel’s arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against him and buried his head into the crook of her neck, his lips pressing soft kisses against it. 

“Don’t worry, he’s not a problem,” Y/N said as she turned in Azriel’s arms. 

As Cassian bid goodbye to the couple and went to find his own mate, Azriel began to press more kisses against Y/N’s exposed skin. Despite being mated for over a century, Y/N felt herself begin to get flustered

“Having fun there?” Y/N asked, locking her arms around his neck. 

“I love you,” Azriel mumbled. 

Y/N smiled and gently cupped his face, pulling him away from the crook of her neck. “I love you too.”

“I don’t want to go to bed anymore,” Azriel said. “I want to stay here with you and watch Starfall.”

“Well we can find somewhere to sit,” Y/N suggested. 

“But I just want to be with you,” Azriel whined. 

Y/N’s eyes filled with amusement. “My love, have you forgotten in your drunken haze that there is a balcony connected to our bedroom.”

Azriel smiled. “Can we go there?”

Y/N pecked his lips. “That is where I was taking us anyway.”

“I love you,” Azriel muttered again. 

“You’re awfully affectionate tonight,” Y/N commented. 

Being affectionate was common for Azriel, but only behind closed doors. The most he would initiate any sort of public affection was maybe a quick kiss on the lips or cheek or a squeeze of her hand. But behind closed doors Azriel was the most affectionate male in existence. 

Whenever they were alone and just lounging around after a long day, Azriel’s favourite position was to lay with his head on Y/N’s chest, silently listening to her heartbeat, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’m with you,” Azriel answered. 

“Come on,” Y/N said and linked her fingers with Azriel’s. 

Y/N led her mate to their room and closed the door behind them. The moment the doors were closed, Azriel began to pull Y/N over to the double doors to the balcony. Y/N followed him, watching as his wings scraped against the floor. Azriel didn’t seem phased. 

Proceeding to open the doors, Azriel pulled her out into the cool night air. Y/N couldn’t help but smile in response to the genuine joy that presented itself on his face. 

Azriel wrapped his arms around Y/N and pulled her close to him and planted his lips on hers. Y/N smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“There was something I wanted to tell you tonight,” Azriel mumbled against her lips, his body swaying. “I wanted to tell you when I snuck away.”

Y/N caressed Azriel’s cheeks. “What was it, my love?”

Azriel pulled away from Y/N and walked to the end of the balcony. Y/N followed. 

Azriel pointed into the distance. “I bought that cottage you liked.”

Y/N looked at Azriel in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

Azriel turned to Y/N, a smile on his face. “I did. You liked it so I bought it.”

“But you said you didn’t want to move too far away from the rest of the Inner Circle in case anything happens,” Y/N said, wrapping his arms around his neck once again. 

“I know,” Azriel said, his arms slipping around her waist. “But I need to start doing things for myself, not for others. And I have my own family now.”

A fond smile spread across Y/N’s face. “Are you sure about this, Az?”

Azriel nodded. “I had everything planned out tonight. We would slip away and share that bottle of drink together and I would tell you, but I think nerves got in the way and I began to have a few drinks to find the courage to tell you and then I had already finished the bottle and completely forgot to tell you to meet me.”

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair. “You talk a lot when you’re drunk. And you’re not as articulate with your words either.”

Azriel groaned and buried his head into the crops of Y/Nm’s neck. “This isn’t how I planned it.”

Y/N’s hand found its home on the back of Azriel’s head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Azriel.”

“I love you so much,” Azriel mumbled, peppering kisses up her neck until his lips met her mouth once more. 

Y/N melted into the kiss, somehow feeling herself falling more in love with Azriel— if that were even possible. 

“I will never tire of kissing you,” Azriel whispered, his hands squeezing her hips. 

“Then kiss me again, but—mmph—“ 

Y/N was cut off by Azriel's lips on hers, this time his mouth fully dominated hers as if he were a starved man. Y/N clung onto him, afraid that if she were to let go, her knees would buckle. 

She could get lost in his kisses with no way out and she would die a happy woman. 

However, the moment Azriel removed one of his hands from where he gripped the railing of the balcony, his body immediately began to sway. Y/N pulled away from the kiss and tried to stop the inevitable conclusion to this stunt but it was too late. Azriel fell back, pulling Y/N down with him. 

His back landed onto the stone balcony with a loud thud while she landed softly upon his chest. Y/N quickly looked at Azriel, afraid that he was hurt but before she could ask him, the most beautiful sound rang through the air. Azriel’s laughter. 

Azriel never laughed often. He would offer the occasional chuckle, or if he were in a specific instance— a giggle, though he would rather be shot down from the sky than ever admit that. 

The laughter was contagious as Y/N began to laugh with him, fully relaxing atop his chest when she knew that he wasn’t hurt. Azriel’s hands rested on her back and hip, keeping her pressed against him. 

“You have me weak at the knees,” Azriel spoke through his laughter.

“You didn’t need to bring me down with you,” Y/N replied. 

“Wherever I go, you go,” Azriel teased. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “When I said that at our mating ceremony, I didn’t have this particular instance in mind.”

Azriel smiled wide. “It doesn’t matter. You said it.”

“And now I’m living to regret it,” Y/N joked. 

Azriel’s hand caressed her face, his hot breath fanned across it. “No you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Y/N replied. 

The moment their lips touched, the most beautiful sight that happened once a year shot across the sky. Both Y/N and Azriel were too wrapped up with one another to notice, but neither of them cared. Their most beautiful sight was when they looked at each other. 

[wandaverse]

meet me in the pale moonlight.

vampire countess!wanda x human painter!reader

summary: In the early 1870s, the young and renowned Y/N arrives in the bustling New York City looking for a new start. Little does she know that a creature of the night lurks in the shadows and that there’s something sinister about the woman she’s become enamoured of, the elusive Countess Maximoff.

warnings/tags: dom!wanda, fem sub!reader, smut, oral, cunniIingus, fingering, mas0chism, blood klnk, hints of humiliation and praise klnk, thigh and foot riding, age gap if you squint, wanda calls r pet, 18+ / MINORS DNI

word count: 10,284

moodboard

Clipping your bag safely back onto your belt, you bid the kind dressmaker farewell and motion to leave her Madison Avenue boutique.

Several days ago and after a rather lengthy trip aboard a steamship across the Atlantic, you finally arrived in the hustling and bustling New York City, the city of dreams in the land of opportunity.

Over the years, you have developed quite a respectable reputation as a commissioned portrait artist for the wealthy with an admired talent that both boosts their egos as well as your own wealth. After a lifetime of travelling across the European continent, you decided to migrate to the Americas in search of a new opportunity, or rather a muse to reignite your inspiration and maybe for a little fun on the side too.

The dressmaker quickly assures you that she’ll have your clothes ready by the end of the week, a welcome relief since you’re still waiting for your remaining belongings to arrive by sea.

On your way out of the boutique, you thank her one last time, not paying attention to your surroundings and distractedly bumping into another woman with a fright.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry! Are you quite alright?” the esteemed lady apologises profusely.

You swiftly regain your bearings and brush her off. “It is no problem at all. I apologise as well for not watching where I was going,” you say guiltily.

The instant you both glance up though, she seemingly forgets about the entire ordeal. You recognise immediately the starstruck look on her face that can only mean that she somehow knows who you are, that word of your talents has already travelled across the seas through migrated aristocrats and the like.

“My word! You’re Y/N Y/L/N, aren’t you?” she asks breathlessly.

With a smirk that you try your best to mask as humble, you can’t deny the pride of being so quickly recognised in this new city.

“Indeed I am, a pleasure to make your acquaintance Ms…?”

“Agatha Harkness, dear, but my friends call me Agnes. It’s lovely to meet you,” she introduces with a shake of your extended hand. “Say, I don’t believe I heard word that you were in our fine city. And I assure you, I would have if it were known. No news gets past me. If anything, I’m always the first to know.”

You bet she is, you nod overwhelmed, quietly taking in the words of someone who is clearly a gossip.

There’s an odd and rather manic intensity about her, you notice. You brush it off as the typical artificial friendliness of the elite and especially of the nouveau riche, which you suspect Agnes is.

And yet, it still feels like something is off about her, like she’s not quite herself, a peculiar strain in her smile and an emptiness behind her eyes. How odd.

“I only arrived a few days ago, is why. All my luggage hasn’t even arrived yet.”

“I see… if that’s the case, why I don’t suppose I could commission you then? Be the first American to have their very own Y/L/N painting?” she requests giddily.

Her excitement rubs off on you, no matter how eerie, and you can’t deny her. “Well, I don’t see why not. I’ll have my people be in contact with you to sort out the details soon.”

“My, I can’t believe my luck!” she celebrates. “Oh! You must attend my gala tonight. Please, be my guest of the evening. Let me have the honour of being the one to introduce you to our society here.”

Once again, you’re charmed by her fierce enthusiasm. “Of course, the honour shall be mine.”

Frankly, you don’t really think it’ll be any different from the circles you traversed in Europe, but who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone intriguing.

—

Later that evening, long after the sun has already set, you step out of your personal carriage at Harkness Hall, located in the newer district of the Upper East Side.

Politely being escorted through the manor, you finally arrive at the ballroom and when the grand doors open, all eyes instantly land on you as you are faced with similar expressions of recognition as Agnes’. Said woman speedily and yet somehow elegantly races up the steps, rushing to your side.

Delicately tapping a fork against the side of her champagne glass, she easily silences the commotion in the crowd below. “Might I have your attention, my friends, to introduce you to my esteemed guest of the evening, the wonderfully talented Miss Y/N Y/L/N.”

As soon as she finishes, a rush of wealthy men and women alike gasp and rush to the foot of the stairs. Agnes proudly links her arm around yours, as if you were childhood friends instead of mere acquaintances, and leads you down the stairs into the pit that awaits you. For a second, and only a second, a rush of anxiety ambushes you but you mask it with some well-practiced charm.

For the next while, Agnes personally introduces you to all the socialites interested in portraits of their own, showing off the fact that she is your first client.

You quickly tire of their suffocating attention and it’s only when you peer past the crowd that you notice that one lone woman hasn’t so much as flinched at your presence, instead remaining in the shadows along the walls and gracing you with only a mere glance.

As the night rages on, you curiously observe the intriguing woman from across the ballroom. With a keen eye, you take note of her every detail. Of her deep burgundy gown so dark it almost resembles blood when illuminated in the light, of her thin black birdcage veil that covers her eyes behind the intricate lace, and committing it all to memory.

She moves with a certain refined grace you’ve only seen few nobles possess and despite primarily keeping to herself, exudes an intimidating and rather domineering aura felt throughout the hall. Only a few dare to approach her, some men who don’t know any better and a few attendants who don’t have any other choice. Every so often, she catches your gaze and you almost feel the air leave your lungs.

When the crowd eventually disperses, you pull at the link between your and Agnes’ arms and inquire about your newest interest. “Agnes, might I ask, that woman over there standing alone by the fireplace, who is she?”

“Ahh, why that would be the elusive Countess Maximoff. Our Lady Wanda hails from a distant European kingdom, or so she says. Frankly, she could be anyone from anywhere in the world considering how little we all know about her,” she briefly explains.

Countess Wanda Maximoff, you recite in your mind. A fascinating yet beautiful name for an equally as alluring woman.

“She’s a well-known and respected socialite in this city. In fact, she might even be the richest of all of us, but no one knows for sure, just as no one knows exactly what she is a Countess of,” Agnes continues, unprompted. Internally, you thank her for being so nosy.

“I must apologise, unfortunately that is really all I know about her. She was already residing in New York when I arrived from Salem many months ago,” she admits. “I do know, however, that she has no husband or family of her own. The rumours are that she had a husband once and that he either died or simply disappeared. Either way, she isn’t a typical woman of our society.”

Lost in thought, you take in her words, all serving to only interest you more and more in the stunning yet seemingly solitary woman.

“Miss Y/N,” Agnes calls, breaking you out of your intense trance as you stare at the mysterious woman. “I must tell you, Lady Maximoff is actually currently staying as a guest at Harkness Hall. For a few days now actually, and for the next while when you complete my portrait.”

Oh?

Why doesn’t that make things all the more interesting…

“Y/N, it’s best that you stay away from her. Trust me, there’s something unusual about her that one must not associate themselves with,” Agnes warns you seriously, a stark contrast from the enthusiastic and bubbly person you’ve become familiar with today.

You turn to her and look in her eyes again. For the first time today, you detect a clarity in them, a genuineness that only confuses you more.

“Agnes, may I ask, why did you accept her as a guest if you dislike her so?” you question.

“No one says no to Wanda Maximoff,” Agnes replies ominously. “Every so often, she requests to stay with one of her ‘friends’ for a short while. It turns out that this time I drew the short straw. She always has some sort of excuse, she told me that her estate is undergoing works, but I’m certain she has other properties. All I know is you don’t disobey a woman like her.”

You give some thought to Agnes’ words, to her warnings and the seeping fear that comes through. And yet, the idea of such a strange woman, defiant to the strict norms of high society, who you don’t disobey, only intrigues you more and more.

You regard the woman in red and decide in the moment that no matter what, you’re going to solve the mystery of the elusive Wanda Maximoff, even if it kills you.

Dismissing Agnes’ warnings and brushing off her arm that attempts to pull you back, you waltz across the room and beeline toward Wanda. In the corner of your eye, you spot horrified looks from the other socialites around the room, but ignore them all the same and focus only on the woman in front of you watching you approach her with an amused yet impressed eye.

And you’re glad you do because up close, the Lady Maximoff is absolutely and entirely striking, breathtaking and enchanting and every other word you would use if you were a poet instead of an artist staring at her new muse.

Her milky skin is notably pale and perfectly contrasts against her chocolate brown hair, so soft you almost want to run your hands through the layered strands. Studying her bone structure, you note that it’s incredibly sharp and accentuated by the shadows, making her resemble a sculpture carved from marble come to life. Even under the lace veil, her eyes are enchanting, a clear sage green that complements her dark maroon dress.

For the first second or two, you find yourself rather speechless, the entire English language suddenly disappearing from your vocabulary as you take in her beauty.

In the same second, you notice offhandedly that she too rakes her eyes up and down your form. Feeling a shiver run down your spine under the weight of her gaze, you hope she appreciates the sight as much as you appreciate yours.

“Hello, Y/N Y/L/N, my lady,” you manage to say and extend your hand towards her.

“I know,” she replies with a smirk, seemingly entertained by your courage (or stupidity). “You’ve been quite popular tonight, among the ladies especially. The woman of the evening I hear.”

A part of you is secretly delighted. That means she’s noticed you just as much as you’ve noticed her. The other part is dazedly captivated by the deep lilt in her accent, hinting at whichever secretive European land she originates from, a part of the mystery you seek to soon unravel.

“And whose company do I have the pleasure of being graced with, might I ask?” you tease.

In response, she simply smirks at your charming attempts and finally accepts your hand. “Countess Wanda Maximoff,” she formally introduces, “but I’m sure you already knew that too.”

Delicately, you clasp her gloved hand in yours and place an innocent kiss below the back of her silk-covered knuckles. Proudly, you earn another smile from her at the endearing impropriety of a young girl pressing a gentlemanly kiss on the back of her hand.

“You’re awfully bold, aren’t you?” she remarks with a cock of her head.

“Artists love beautiful things,” you smirk. “It just so happens I’ve found the most beautiful of all.”

She scrunches her nose as she cringes at your flirtatious attempt. You don’t regret your words though when you mean it so sincerely.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Miss Y/L/N?” she asks, skipping the pretenses. “I’m sure you’ve already heard all the things they say about me.”

“I don’t care about them and what they have to say. I’d rather hear it all from you instead,” you profess.

Peering down at her wine glass, she smiles again at your attempts to charm her. This one seems a little more genuine though, a sign that your persistence (and perhaps, foolishness) is slowly piercing through her walls.

She looks back up at you and seemingly ponders your unsaid request as she pensively sips her wine. At last, she says, “Alright then, what would you like to know?”

You grin cheekily at having so easily won her favour. “Well for starters, pray tell me, which land do you come from?”

“Europe,” she answers simply.

You both know that you already knew that, both because Agnes already told you as well as the evident hints of Slavic you identify in her accent.

“Where might one find your county of ownership though, my Countess?” you attempt to press.

“I’m sure you’d like to know,” she teases with another smirk, just as mysterious and secretive as Agnes described.

You’ve spent your entire life travelling through Europe’s High Societies, from the Parisian aristocracy to Florence’s art scene, and yet you’ve never heard of or seen her before this night. And you’d certainly remember if you did, she’s not a face one forgets.

“So, we’re playing this game, are we?”

“You started it, Miss Y/L/N,” she matches your teasing tone.

You’ve noticed that she only calls you by your name formally, keeping a distance between the two of you despite having let you in more than anyone else tonight.

You’re even more aware of all the eyes on you, watching like hawks as your interaction plays out. How odd of a pair you must be, a sight to behold you’re sure. You’re keenly aware of how you’re likely equally as intriguing and alien as she is. How your existence defies the rigid social norms; a girl of your standing able to dance through high society while working to accumulate your own wealth and remaining single at a less than conventional age. You wonder if perchance, in this way, you interest her as much as she interests you.

Clearing your throat, you decide to accept that this is as much as you’ll learn about her tonight. “Agnes tells me you’re staying as a guest at Harkness Hall,” you segue instead.

Tilting her head once again, she lifts an eyebrow in curiosity. “That would be correct.”

“As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, I have been commissioned to paint a portrait for Ms Harkness.” Gently, you once again place a kiss on the back of her resting hand. “I suppose we’ll be seeing more of each other then,” you quietly bid farewell before walking away, not turning back although you know she’s following you with a curious eye.

Later throughout the night, the other cautious elites approach you one by one, all warning you to stay away from Wanda. There’s a certain look in their eyes that you can’t quite decipher yet, resembling that of Agnes’ expression if you really think about it. Something akin to fear or intimidation or something in between and like they’re trying to tell you something they can’t say with words. Their warnings only serve to further interest you in the Countess and the mystery that surrounds her though.

Returning your gaze to the woman before you depart for the evening, you find her already staring fervently at you with a smile you can only describe as devilish. Her pearly white teeth seem to sparkle under the chandelier’s light and you swear that from this side of the ballroom, you spot a glimmer of red in her eyes under the veil.

But, when you remember her beautiful green eyes, you suppose it’s simply a trick of the light.

—

The day after the next, you return to Harkness Hall for your first session with Agnes.

The moment you step foot through the doors, you instantly search for Wanda but are dismayed to fail in your pursuit, not even hearing word of her throughout the entire day. From morning to night, while you’re painting in Agnes’ drawing room or enjoying lunch with her in the garden, you never see Wanda even once.

You suppose it’s a large estate so it’s not hard to believe that your paths wouldn’t cross, but the thought does nothing to dispel the persistent pout on your face.

You honestly try your very hardest to focus on the woman posing in front of you, but the task is near impossible. You almost want to ask Agnes about Wanda, where she is and what she’s doing, but you suppose that would be highly improper. Not that you would typically care, you’d just rather not let it be known how taken you’ve become with her.

It’s only later that evening when you walk through the estate to take your leave, around the eleventh hour after the sun has already set and the hustle and bustle of Harkness Hall has come to a standstill, that your eyes once again find the Countess’ solitary form.

Bathed in the moonlight, the Lady sits by herself in the courtyard facing away from you. You’re once again struck by her beauty. In this pure light and under the night sky, her ivory skin almost glows. You briefly ponder the idea that she could be an angel descended from the heavens above.

Seemingly sensing your presence, despite how stealthily you’d hidden yourself behind the doorway, she spins around faster than you can blink and catches you.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she remarks with a drawl and that sinisterness that makes you think that more accurately, she must be a fallen angel sent to this world by the devil himself.

Matching your intense gaze, she simply says, “Come,” beckoning you to her side.

And you obey without a single objection, padding across the courtyard and placing yourself in the seat beside her obediently.

“I heard you were here painting Agnes today,” she brings up cordially.

Your eyes drop down and you notice her drinking something in her glass that oddly looks a little too dark and thick to be wine, that leaves a deep cherry stain on her lips that would otherwise be an unusual lipstick shade. You equally notice that despite her attempts at pleasant small talk, she doesn’t make any attempts to offer you a glass of whatever it is she’s drinking.

“I was,” you affirm. “I was….” hoping to see you, you trail off and keep to yourself, not wanting to seem desperate in her eyes despite how desperate for her attention you truly are.

She smiles to herself, seemingly hearing your confession all the same. She has a way of reading you without you saying a word.

“And how are you finding it so far?”

“It’s going as well as it can. Agnes is a wonderful subject,” you share, hiding the fact that the only woman you wanted to paint today was her.

A beat of silence passes, only the soft breeze of winter heard in the space you share.

“Have you ever sat for a portrait before?” you ask.

Shaking her head thoughtfully, she answers “No, never.”

“Why, might I ask? Your beauty is one I’m sure hundreds would flock to capture on canvas and stone.”

Inwardly, she smirks at your unrelenting boldness. “Yes… be that as it may, it’s not one I’m happy to share with the world for all to see,” she answers just as cryptically as everything else she’s told you thus far.

You suspect there’s a deeper and very real reason to it, but don’t question further. You’re happy to take as much as she gives you, as little as it is.

“Would you let me paint you one day?” you ask honestly.

Wistfully, she turns to glance up at the scattered stars in the clear sky, musing on your offer. “Perhaps,” she finally turns to look at you again, “if you’re a good girl.”

A fierce blush rushes to your cheeks as she gets up and caresses your chin with her gloved hand before leaning down and placing a fleeting kiss on the very cheek reddened by her teasing. As she saunters away from you, you watch her go and dazedly wonder if whatever she was drinking left its own stain on your skin.

Only when she walks past a statement mirror in the hallway are you pulled out of your trance. You can’t see her reflection, you remark.

Confused, you give it little thought before reasoning that it must be your tired eyes playing a trick on you.

—

Over the coming days, you return to Harkness Hall for your work with Agnes and continue seeking Wanda’s company.

Every time though, you only ever locate her after the sun’s gone down or alone in some secluded space like the library or tea room with the windows shut.

This time, you lose the fight and ask Agnes about her peculiar behaviour. She tells you that the Countess typically goes out at night and only returns in the early hours of the morning. Otherwise, during the day she either slumbers until the early afternoon or rests indoors.

Agnes doesn’t quite understand it either, but she’s neither questioning it nor complaining when it makes it a little easier for her to avoid the Lady. You thank her for her explanation (gossip), but it only piques your curiosity more and more, as does everything else you learn about Wanda.

Every time you do cross her path though, she always invites you to sit with her. Most of the time, she nurses a glass of the too-dark-and-too-thick wine. You never ask for a glass of your own or a taste and she never offers.

And every time, you find yourself entranced by her beauty for at least a minute or two or typically, much more. At times, you think she must be from another world, one so delicate and divine that man cannot and must not touch it lest it be corrupted. Other times you think her beauty is simply not human and must be a form of corruption of its own. But maybe that’s just the dramatic artist in you.

You’re saddened to say that after all this time though, you still don’t know much more about her, the mystery still largely unsolved. You know that she’s rich, she’s alone, and she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on, which is essentially everything you already knew from the first night you met her.

She does occasionally share some stories with you though, of her life when she was younger in the foreign Slavic land you still haven’t identified. She tells you of growing up in a castle at the top of a mountain, of being bathed in the riches of love. “I’ve lost all the family I’ve ever known,” she confesses the next evening after you share stories of your own rough upbringing.

As always, she remains cryptically vague with every word she offers you, never giving you details and always leaving you wanting more.

Sometimes, she even reveals glimpses of her other facets like her interests and apparent appreciation for the theatre. “There’s a new musical on Broadway that I believe you’d enjoy,” she remarks offhandedly. Despite your attempts to suppress it, you feel a fluttering sensation within you at the prospect of seeing the Countess outside the walls of Harkness Hall, of even courting her if she allowed.

You’d like to think that you’re the only one honoured to hear these words from her, that you’re someone special to her as she is to you.

Other times when you come upon wherever she’s hiding and she doesn’t instantly detect you, you watch her quietly from the shadows, hiding away and observing her peaceful form. You fetch your pocket pad from the bag on your waist and roughly sketch her reading, birdwatching, embroidering or simply gazing at the night sky.

Then, you return home and paint her as accurately from memory as you can, attempting to capture her beauty with oil paints and canvas.

One day, you hope you’ll have a chance to show her how she’s become your muse and how you see her unlike anyone else.

—

Almost a week has passed since you started painting Agnes and you only know because you’ve been committing every encounter with the Lady Maximoff to memory.

Over the days, you’ve become comfortable and developed a routine of sorts for yourself. Around mid-morning, you arrive at Agnes’ manor and recommence work right away. Once noon comes, you have lunch with her in her expansive garden and enjoy tea with Wanda in the mid-afternoon if you can locate her, otherwise you greet her on your departure in the evening.

For the short while, you develop a new normal, which makes it all the weirder when a sense of unease overcomes the city and its inhabitants. From your own maids and coachmen to Agnes and the other elites you come across, everyone all of a sudden seems on edge. Almost like a blanket of doom and gloom has been laid over the city.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s only Wanda who seems normal and unperturbed when you find her in her usual lounge chair in the courtyard under the moonlit sky. Once again, you obediently take the seat beside her.

Tonight, you can’t help but notice that she’s not nursing her favoured drink and if it were possible, she appears more pale than ever. You want to ask if she is well, but instead of overstepping, you decide to ask why everyone seems so off.

Pensively, she oddly smiles at your question and peer up at the sky. You follow her line of sight and see that the moon tonight is full and bright.

“Be careful, Miss Y/L/N,” is all she says as you turn to her again. There’s an unsettling look in her eye, like she knows something you don’t.

“You never know what’s hiding in the shadows, what creatures of the night lurk in the dark,” she warns ominously before turning to you and flashing a blinding smile. “One wouldn’t want something to happen to a pretty young thing like you.”

You gulp at her forbidding words and sudden predatory appearance, left only more confused and unnerved than ever. Flustered, you avert your gaze and miss the flash of crimson in her eyes.

—

The following evening, you’re half asleep in your carriage home when you abruptly realise you forgot a broken easel that you wanted to have fixed at Harkness Hall. Having requested your coachman retrieve it for you, you now patiently wait in your carriage in front of the estate.

Leaning your cheek on the window with a pout, you’re a little saddened since you didn’t see Wanda at all today, the first time it’s happened all week.

When you asked one of Agnes’ maids where the Lady was, she said she hadn’t seen Wanda all day either which meant she must’ve still been asleep since she didn’t hear her return until just before dawn. But then even on your way out a few moments ago, you still couldn’t find her in any of her usual hiding spots to your dismay. 

Staring out solemnly at the Upper East Side streets, you notice that it’s a lot quieter than usual. This district is typically much busier, even at this late hour with the wealthy enjoying their night on the town. 

However, it seems everyone is as on edge as they were the previous day. Most people have opted to stay inside with the windows shut, leaving the streets mostly empty barring a few passersby and dimly lit lamp posts. Even your coachman seemed a little less willing than usual to fulfil your request, as if he just wanted to rush the both of you home to safety. From what, you’re not too sure.

Sleepily, you lift your gaze and stare at the moon, slightly fuller and even brighter than it was the night before, having just reached the peak of its cycle. 

You admire its alluring beauty for a brief second until something in the alley across the road from your carriage catches your eye; a lone man and woman hidden in the shadows. You think they must be one of the only people who don’t fear what everyone else does to be lingering in the darkness like this. 

Intrigued, you study the pair when something strikes you. The woman throws her head back laughing and you catch a glimpse of her canines, so pearly and sharp you’re almost sure they look like fangs.

It’s only when you narrow your eyes and the woman leans forward out of the shadows into the light that you realise with a start, it’s Wanda.

—

When the sun rises and morning comes, you wake up safe in your bed but just as shaken.

With the calming of your heart, you reason that the events of the night before must have been a dream or even a hallucination of your tired mind. But you’ve been making the same excuse a lot lately and the image is etched so realistically in your memory it must be real.

In a daze, you ready yourself for the day and go to the dining room for the breakfast awaiting you. Perhaps some food in your stomach will wake you up from whatever this is, you think.

You’re distractedly munching on some berries when your handmaiden enters the room with a boiled kettle for your morning tea. It seems that the water isn’t the only thing bubbling this morning though.

“Miss! Have you heard the news?” she asks worriedly.

“I can’t say I have,” you answer, shaking your head. “What appears to have happened?”

“My, there’s been a murder! In an alley near Harkness Hall!”

Your blood instantly runs cold and you freeze like a bucket of cold water has been thrown on you.

“W-what?”

“A young man in his early 20s, foolish enough to stay out late on a full moon. They say his body was otherwise unmarked except for two puncture wounds in his neck. The sheriffs think it’s the Moonlit Killer again!” she frantically explains, every word striking your shaky bones.

“The Moonlit Killer?” you whisper to yourself in thought. “Who is that?”

“The city, no the state’s, very own serial killer, miss! No one knows who it is and they haven’t been caught yet, but for over a year now there have been murders across New York every full moon,” she tells you, the kettle completely forgotten as well as your breakfast which you know for certain you can no longer stomach with the tightening of your throat.

“The victims always match each other too, always young men taken in dark alleys and left with only two punctures in their necks.”

Like fangs…, you piece together.

It all makes sense now, why everyone was so on edge with the arrival of the full moon.

Quietly, you think back to what you witnessed last night. You’re sure it was Wanda. You would recognise her anywhere, in a crowded ballroom or even a… dark alleyway.

An image forms in your mind and you quickly race to your studio, ignoring the concerned calls of your handmaiden. You pull out a fresh canvas and your brushes and you paint and paint and paint.

You paint Wanda’s unusually pale ivory skin. You paint her red irises that you’ve seen on occasion. And lastly, you paint the sharp fangs you saw last night that lie where any other person’s canines would.

Once you’ve finished, you step back to take in your rough portrait and drop your brush in shock.

It can’t be…

You’ve only heard tales of them during your travels when instances similar to last night’s rocked the cities you visited. You’ve only seen frightening drawings of them in books that told farfetched legends of the undead.

Creatures of the night, skin as pale as the moon, pearly white fangs as sharp as blades, and most of all, eyes the colour of scarlet.

Everything suddenly makes sense now, pieces fall into place as the mystery is finally solved.

The glasses she’s always drinking of some liquid that looks too dark and thick to be wine must have been blood all this time and her main source of sustenance since you’ve never seen her eat a single crumb.

The way she oddly sleeps during the day and always shies away from sunlight, because if she didn’t she would quite literally be burned.

How you’re sure you’ve never seen her reflection in mirrors or water or windows because she doesn’t in fact have a soul to reflect.

Why no matter how much you asked around or researched about the elusive Countess, you could never obtain any information dating back earlier than over a year ago, precisely when the Moonlit Killer started taking their victims.

And how you’re certain that if you matched the homes of the other aristocrats she stayed with to the locations of the killings, it would all line up perfectly.

Countess Maximoff is… a vampire.

With the realisation, you’re filled with frightening clarity, both proudly smug at having unearthed her secret and slightly fearful at the true nature of the woman you’ve become enamoured of. Foolishly, you thought it was your eyes playing tricks or simple coincidences, but it’s too much to be.

For a second, you even think you must be going crazy to be entertaining this thought. Wanda… the beautiful, alluring, and bewitching woman… is a vampire. A monster? How could someone so enchanting be so horrific, though? So cruel…

But then you remember the old wives’ tales about sirens and succubi and creatures of sin that seduce and corrupt with their otherworldly beauty and frankly, now you’re only more sure of your discovery.

And that’s when it hits you… there’s only one way to test your theory.

—

That evening, you put your plan into motion. You haven’t much time. You figure in a few days she’ll announce her departure from Harkness Hall and return to her estate until she has to hunt for the next full moon, so why wait to confirm something you’re already so sure of.

In the dead of night, you pad through her designated wing and sneak into her bedchambers, awaiting her eventual return in the early morning. Earlier, you sent your carriage home with a feigned excuse and listened carefully to confirm that Agnes had retired for the evening.

Making yourself comfortable on Wanda’s loveseat, you patiently survey the door and await her arrival, alone in the dark room lit only by a few ruby candles and the bright moonlight.

In the Winter night, you feel the cool breeze on your exposed skin and shiver, pulling your coat tighter around you. Beneath it, you wear nothing but a lace blood red nightgown that leaves your neck bare in hopes of enticing her.

As expected, she’s absent for most of the evening, you assume too preoccupied with hunting her prey. Tonight, the moon is at the absolute peak of its cycle. Her lust for blood must be uncontrollable, but the thought only excites you more.

You almost fall asleep against your hand propped up on the armrest when finally, sometime between the second and third hour, you hear a shuffle outside the door that instantly wakes you.

Creaking, the door opens to reveal the Countess you’ve been waiting for, clad in a black hooded cloak and dark burgundy dress. Dark enough to conceal any bloodstains, you realise.

You suspect the city will awake to news of another victim at the hand of the Moonlit Killer, but that’s for whatever awaits you after the sun rises. Right now, you have your mystery standing in front of you, surprised to say the least to see you in her bedchambers and especially at this hour.

In the dimly lit room, you can barely see her if it weren’t for her skin that seemingly glows under the moonlight and the fleeting glint of red in her eyes that show themselves when she lifts off her hood and removes her cloak.

She’s as beautiful to you now as she was before you knew what kind of creature she really is. The thought leaves you as breathless as the sight of her. You think you would have fallen for her no matter who, or rather what, she is.

Fully facing your standing figure now, she smirks, knowing that there is something different about you tonight and this encounter. A sense of pride fills you at her sinister expression.

“Miss Y/L/N, what a surprise to find you here. Have you gotten lost in the middle of the night, sweet thing? Sleepwalked from the other side of the city, perchance?” she asks playfully. There’s a hint of something new in her tone, something a little demeaning. You can’t say you hate it. No… not at all.

“No, my lady. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

She simply lifts an eyebrow in response, signalling you to continue while she hangs up her cloak and only offers you part of her attention. You almost want to beg to have all of it.

“I’ve been watching you,” you admit.

“I know you have. And what have you so skillfully unearthed, Miss Y/L/N?”

With a nervous gulp, you confess, “I know your secret, what you hide from the others.” Her ears seem to perk up with interest at your admission, but she’s still unsettlingly calm about the revelation.

“I know why you sleep during the day and what you do during the night. I know why you avoid sunlight at all costs and why no one seems to know anything about you. I know what you are.”

At last, she turns to you and gives you her full and complete attention. As much as you previously desired it, you quickly find yourself wilting under the weight of her stare.

Crossing the room in three strides, she stands face-to-face before you. “Oh? And pray tell, what exactly am I?” she teases and finally unveils the true scarlet hue of her eyes with a tilt of her head, equally as stunning as the green if not more bewitching.

It leaves you in a state of vulnerable immobility like prey trapped in the clutch of its predator and you pull at the sleeves of your coat in an attempt to regain your courage. Distantly, you wonder if perhaps there’s more to her species that the myths don’t yet know about, that perhaps she wields sinister abilities to influence the mind which would explain the eerie nature of Agnes’ facade.

“You’re… you’re a…”

Intimidatingly, she stalks to you in a few weightless steps almost like a bat. Delicately pulling her satin gloves off and haphazardly tossing them to the wooden floor, she reveals her long sharp nails, claws really.

Getting closer in your space now, she takes your chin between her thumb and index finger and tilts your head up to face her, the chilled skin of a soulless body sends shivers through your bones.

Menacingly, she grins, no leers, at you and detracts her fangs, glistening in the moonlight and bared for you to see. Up close, it strikes you with an immediate fear, but also something equally as exciting that leaves a tightening sensation deep in your belly.

“Say it,” she whispers, her cool breath against your lips and sending a chill down your spine.

With a gulp, you finally bring yourself to say out loud, “You’re a vampire.”

If it were somehow possible, her grin grows even wider and more sinister and you briefly think that she might just eat you alive.

“Good girl, I knew you were a smart one the second I laid my eyes on you.” The term of praise, as proud as you are to have received it, only intensifies that feeling in your belly and for the first time this evening, you question if you’re actually capable of surviving a night with the vampire Countess.

Patting your cheek with her other hand and cocking her head amusedly, Wanda continues. “Although, you were foolish enough to have come here alone and approached me like this.”

Maybe she’s right…

“No one would know if I killed you right here and now. No one would even hear you scream before I sank my teeth in your neck.”

Or maybe, that’s exactly what you want from her.

In a heartbeat, you instantly regain all your confidence. You know her secret and you came here for a reason. It’s time to claim what you’re owed, what you came to this city searching for.

Hastily, you untie your coat and drop it to the floor, revealing your barely clothed body to her stunned eyes. A rush of excitement goes through your veins at the sight of her dilated pupils, a telling sign that she just might desire you as much as you desire her.

Placing your own hands atop the ones she still rests on your face, you confess, “I want to be yours.” She lifts her eyebrow in curiosity at your proposition. “You don’t need to feed on other people, or hunt when you’re desperate anymore… You can just feed on me.”

For the first time ever, you hear her laugh, throwing her head back with her imposing fangs on full display. A deep and maniacal sound that’s degrading and humiliating as you stand there before her exposed and yet, you decide you’d do anything to hear it again.

It takes a second or two for her to regain her composure and you think you spot tears in her eyes, only further reddening your blushing cheeks.

“You know,” she says in between huffed laughter. “I typically only drink animal blood, as I’m sure you’ve seen on occasion. It’s a lot more… convenient and certainly a lot less messy. But the real reason,” she confesses, whispering almost secretively as her ruby coloured irises stare into your blown out pupils, “is that blood from a human source is dangerously addictive. That’s why I only feed on humans on days like this when the moon’s pull is too strong. Because everyone I drink from ends up dead and somehow, I just know that if I drank yours… well I’d be addicted for eternity.”

But what if that’s exactly what you want?

Blindly reaching towards a nearby table, you grab what feels like a glass and smash it against the surface, successfully slicing your left palm and sending drops of blood rolling down your skin.

In the same heartbeat, Wanda instantly freezes, her enhanced sense of smell immediately picking up the intoxicating scent of your blood. Tightly closing her eyes and letting go of her hold on you, she takes two steps back from you, seemingly struggling to restrain herself.

Fearlessly, you take two steps towards her, crowding her space just as she crowded yours.

“Let go,” you tempt, lifting your bleeding hand in an attempt to flood her senses and lure her further into your trap. “Let me be yours,” you whisper teasingly into her ear.

In a second, her eyes burst open, now blazing scarlet and burning into you. Roughly, she wraps her hand around your throat and pushes you against the nearest wall, uncaring of how you wince at the strength with which she slams you.

Just as harshly, she finally kisses you, her icy lips meeting yours and moving against each other as one as she almost devours you in her eagerness. And just as eagerly, you let her, drowning in the rush of losing yourself in something so wrong that feels so right.

The cautiousness with which she treated you before has completely disappeared as she dangerously tightens her grip around your throat, claiming your lips over and over again.

In her lust-clouded haste, her sharp fangs faintly slice your bottom lip and you quickly start bleeding with a wince that’s promptly muffled by her soft lips. Her greedy tongue licks it all up and you’re blessed with her deep moans at the rich and teasing taste.

To your dismay, she pulls away and releases her grip on your throat. But when you look in her bloodshot eyes, pupils blown and glittering in the moonlight, you’re thrilled to see a complete lack of resistance, a surrender to the offer you’ve presented.

And yet, there’s a hidden question in them, if you’re really willing to cross this line with her. In the back of your mind, you wonder that perhaps you're the first person who’s ever shared this secret of hers, who's ever willingly given themselves to her.

You hope to be the only.

Without saying a word, you simply crane your awaiting neck towards her, offering the expanse of it to her on a golden platter.

“I’m yours,” you whisper into the night for only her to hear.

In the blink of an eye, she becomes a predator before you. Still trapped between her body and the wall, you watch in equal amounts of fear and lust as she bares her fangs and sinks them into your naked neck.

You scream in pain and tightly scrunch a hand in her hair until, almost like you're hearing yourself outside of your body, you realise that your screams have become moans, the pain in your neck abruptly replaced by pleasure racing through your bloodstream.

“Mine,” you hear her snarl in between your moans and you only barely manage to yell, “Yours”, back.

Wanda is equally disarmed as she buries her face in your neck. She drinks and drinks and drinks, and as predicted, loses herself in you. It’s a criminal understatement to say that your blood is the best she’s ever tasted in her centuries-long life and endless list of victims. It’s rich and thick and if you hadn’t already offered to become her pet for eternity, she would have stolen you away anyway.

She revels even more in the sounds of your very evident pleasure, which when mixed with her instant addiction to your taste leaves a tight sensation in her core.

As she continues feasting on you, she slots a knee between your open legs and tightly grips your waist in her hands, harshly thrusting you down on her leg and surely leaving bruises in her wake. Eagerly, you grind against her firm thigh, head lolling back and hitting the wall with a resounding thud.

Somehow, your unabashed moans get even louder as you feel your blood starting to drip across your chest. Distantly, you consider that maybe you should quieten yourself lest someone hear of your tryst, but that thought swiftly disappears when Wanda presses her knee against your core while pushing you down to grind against it and deepening her fangs in your neck.

She’s everywhere. Pressed against you, piercing you with her teeth, becoming one with you. Suddenly, the overwhelming sensations become too much and you come undone in her arms, climaxing unexpectedly from the equally consuming mix of pleasure and pain.

In a lust- and blood-drunk daze, Wanda takes little notice of your state and attempts to keep drinking every ounce of the red liquid left in your body. She feels you start to loosen your hold on her hair and slacken against her thigh though, so she reluctantly stops lest she loses her pet as quickly as she got her.

Regrettably, she pulls away from you but you’re glad she keeps her knee between your legs because you immediately slump against her from an exhaustive combination of the severe blood loss and intense climax.

Surprisingly tenderly, she captures you in her arms and holds you up against her and the wall. You take a second to regain your breath as your heart races to pump more blood through your veins.

“That was…” you trail off, dazed and half struggling to hold on to consciousness.

“Delicious,” she finishes for you.

You eventually manage to open your eyes and watch her sadly remove a hand from your waist to wipe your blood from her mouth with the pad of her thumb, serving to only spread it across her face even more.

The sight is more arousing than it should be and as you stare at her, you discover that with her porcelain moonlit skin, scarlet coloured eyes, snow white fangs, and mouth covered in your dark blood, she’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen.

In the haze of the afterglow, your gaze lowers to her bloody lips and you briefly wonder how you taste. Somehow reading your thoughts as she always does, she places a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips and you’re equally surprised by the taste of your blood on her lips. It’s different from what you expected, not as jarringly metallic as when you bite the inside of your cheek but rather smooth and rich like a well-aged wine.

As you deepen the kiss searching for more, she returns the eagerness by tracing the surface of your lips with her tongue, easily parting them and entering your mouth. Distracting you with the feel of your tongues swirling against each other, she sneakily reaches behind your back and unties the fragile bow tying your nightgown together.

Pulling away, she lets the sheer fabric fall in a heap to the floor and leaves you chasing her lips like a lovesick fool. You feel even more foolish when you look up and find her staring intensely at your entirely exposed body while she remains fully clothed, almost moving to wrap your arms around your bare chest in an attempt to hide yourself from her scrutiny.

Just as quickly though, she captures your wrists and traps them beside you against the wall. “Don’t hide from me. You’re mine now, pet,” she whispers in her criminally deep voice.

Not to mention her apparent assignment of a new title for you, a stark contrast from the formal way with which she has been regarding you until now. A fierce blush rises to your cheeks at her choice and when combined with the sound of her voice, you think you could come from the short sentence alone.

Softly and slowly with all the time in the world, or at least the few hours left before the sun awakes, she places delicate kisses across your shaking body. Her icy cold touch cools every inch of your burning skin that it contacts, along the curve of your jawline up to the space below your ear, down your neck and especially taking care to lick your puncture wounds clean before travelling across your chest and licking up any blood that previously escaped her.

Taking your left nipple in her awaiting mouth, she latches on and sucks greedily before switching to the right. You squirm and try to free your hands wanting to touch her, but her bruising grip around your wrists unrelenting keeps you trapped. If she notices you continue to painfully twist yourself in her grasp anyway in an attempt to amass more marks as proof of her ownership of you, she doesn’t utter a single word.

A second later, she withdraws from your body and sighs against your wet skin, which when coupled with her chilled touch and the cool winter night leaves you shuddering with goosebumps.

Stepping back from you entirely now, she reaches behind herself and undoes her own dress. When it falls to the floor, so does your jaw as you shamelessly stare at the pale expanse of her skin, almost completely unblemished and illuminated by the moonlight.

You carefully place your hands on the curves of her waist, hidden beneath her burgundy corset. For a brief moment, she lets you admire her body like an artist admires their muse before she gets impatient and turns around in your arms.

Pulling her hair to her front, she demands, “Won’t you lend me a hand, pet?”

Wordlessly and obediently, you unlace her corset while leaving delicate kisses behind her ear and along her neck. She buries her hand in your hair and you almost let out a moan from the way she tugs at it. Under your breath, you curse the corset for being so intricate as your shaking hands struggle against the detailed binds.

Luckily for you though, it finally becomes undone and drops to the floor with the rest of your clothes. With your hands returning to her waist again, now soft and bare, you turn her around to face you and almost collapse.

You’re not sure how it’s possible, but she continues to take your breath away. She’s more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in your lifelong travels. More than any of the marble Grecian sculptures or oil paintings of Aphrodite.

Just as she did, you take your time peppering kisses over her ivory and cool skin. You gently kiss every inch from right under her jawline to the dips of her collarbones and down along her chest to the mole of her left breast, from the curve of her shoulder down to the edge of her fingers and even lightly sucking your blood off her thumb.

Delicately, you devote yourself to kissing her perfect skin marked only by a few moles littered across her body, mapping them like constellations, and licking away any of your blood that stains the porcelain surface of her chin and neck.

Here and there, when you get to a particularly sensitive spot like the space under her jawline, she writhes in your arms and lets out a breathless gasp. You continue sucking on the same spot lightly, proudly drawing pleasure out of her as she did with you, but only lightly and not harsh enough to mark her flawless skin.

Internally, you think you could spend an eternity worshipping her body if she let you. You wouldn’t mind all the pain if you had the pleasure of being hers.

As you take your time exploring her body, her thin patience finally runs out and she roughly wraps your hair around her hand, pushing you down to exactly where she needs you.

“On your knees, pet,” she demands breathlessly and you instantly obey, falling to your knees with a thud and ignoring the bruising pain, proudly collecting more evidence of your tryst.

Diligently, you continue trailing your kisses down between the centre of her chest and her taut stomach until you reach her core, which you brazenly pass in favour of nibbling her inner thigh.

Roughly yanking your hair though, Wanda makes her annoyance known. “Oh, don’t be like that now, sweetheart. I thought it was clear who’s in charge here,” she bends down and sneers in your face.

“‘Mm sorry…” you frantically nod and apologise while keeping the enticing idea of disobeying and testing her patience in the back of your mind for another time. Right now, though, you desperately want to taste her.

Lifting her leg over your shoulder, she increases your accessibility or rather traps you and pushes your head back towards her centre.

“Be a good pet now won’t you, darling?”

You don’t need to be told twice, swiftly diving in between her thighs. You’re pleasantly delighted to feel how wet for you she already is, probably since the moment she sank her teeth in your neck.

Burying yourself against her core, you greedily part her folds with your tongue and lap up all her juices. Immediately drunk on her taste, you moan against her and the resounding vibrations apparently stimulate her even more as she whimpers above you and tightens her grip on your hair.

As you eagerly stroke your tongue against her pussy and brush your nose against her clit, you decide that between her legs must be the best place on Earth. And if anything, you so quickly become addicted to her sweet essence just as she was with your rich blood.

Almost crazed, you both want her everywhere and to be all over her, meticulously switching between placing kitty licks between her folds and latching onto her bulb.

Losing herself in you, Wanda somehow pushes the back of your head even deeper against her and bucks against your face. “Good girl… just like that,” she murmurs.

If your mouth wasn’t so preoccupied, you would’ve begged her to pull your hair harder.

Glancing up as you devour her, you realise that she truly is a fallen angel sent from the depths of hell to corrupt you. As you stare at her lust hazed eyes and domineering form stalked over you, you find yourself getting pleasure just from her pleasure alone.

You think that whether she suffocated you between her thighs or sucked out all your blood with her fangs in your neck, you’d be honoured to die by her hand.

With her moans getting louder and her body writhing above you, you catch on to her rapidly increasing need for more and raise your right hand to rub her clit with the pads of two fingers.

Catching her off guard, you swiftly thrust the same two fingers between her folds and earn a blissed out scream. You fit perfectly inside her as she clenches around you, sending a tightening sensation to your own core.

Latching onto her clit with your mouth again while your fingers slide in and out of her, you proudly smile against her at the tightening grip on your hair.

“Faster,” she manages to demand and you once again obey, pistoning your fingers in and out of her even faster and setting a ruthless rhythm. Soon after, your fingertips locate her g-spot so you curl the ends of your two fingers, hitting the spot with every thrust.

As you watch her, you notice that her hands are preoccupied with gripping the back of your head in pleasure and her bedpost in an attempt to stay standing.

With so much of her immaculate body shamefully left unattended, you reach your sliced hand back up her still cool body and cup her breast. As you massage the supple mound, the pain of the fresh cut stings your skin but you hear yourself whimper in time with her own moans.

You’re everywhere and the stimulation of your touch starts to make Wanda go crazy. Releasing her hold on your hair, she glides it down your back and scratches the skin below your shoulders with her claws in an attempt to pull you even closer.

Shuddering against her, you wince at the pain but proudly add the scratches to your long list of scars from tonight.

With her hand on your back, she feels you pathetically grind down against nothing and decides to take pity on you, placing her foot below your core. Finally getting some much needed friction, you rub yourself against her in a frenzy and practically ride her foot.

In a daze, she peers down at you and is entranced by the sight of you on your knees for her, looking up obediently at her with doe-like eyes, your face covered in her juices and skin covered in bite marks and hickeys she placed haphazardly, all while servicing her every demand and devoting yourself to her every need.

Unable to hold herself back anymore, she climaxes. Feeling her clench around your fingers and hearing her scream, you quickly follow and come against her foot. Bewitched, you see her arch her back in satisfaction and let her ride out her high against your face.

Once she calms down, you greedily lick up all her cum and clean up her centre just as you did with your blood on her skin. When your mission is complete and she pushes you away, overstimulated by your persistent touch, you stare into her eyes as you slide the same two fingers that were just inside her mere second ago into your own mouth, sucking them clean and taking care to not leave even a single drop.

If it were possible, her already blown out pupils dilate even more as she watches the show you put on for her. Pulling you up with a strength that’s probably owed to her inhumane cells, she tugs you into a kiss once again, tasting her essence on your tongue just as you did with your blood on hers.

Fitting your waist in her hands again, she hastily throws you on her bed before straddling your hips and pressing you against the mattress. She wastes no time and leans down to reclaim your lips, carelessly letting her fangs nick your lips again.

In the corner of your sleepy eyes, you see the glowing moonlight illuminate the stars in the night sky outside, the sun still a lifetime away. For this next little while, all that matters is the cool feel of her touch against your scorched skin and the pleasure of the pain she brings.

For under the full moon, you are completely and irrevocably hers; a vampire’s pet for better or worse.

[aaagustd]

friends & lovers | jww (m)

title: friends & lovers pairing: jeon wonwoo x female reader genre/rating: fluff, smut, best friends to lovers,  idiots to lovers; 18+ summary: Sometimes the love you’re searching for has been right beside you all along. Patience is the key…the right moment will present itself eventually. wc: 2.2k warnings: swearing, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), restraints (wrist pinning), grinding/dry humping, clit stimulation, slight orgasm control, cumshots, crying, begging, soft sex, pet names, nipple play, cum play, aftercare release date: february 9th, 2025; 9:23pm est author’s note: Hello!! This was a bday gift I wrote for @beomcoups a while back. Huge shoutout to @hobeemin for beta reading it for me at the time. I’m currently moving all of my old content here, so if you’ve read this before don’t be alarmed lol. I’m the original author.

playlist: My Boo by Usher ft. Alicia Keys | Focus by NCT 127 | ‘bout you by Seventeen | Let Me Hold You by Bow Wow ft. Omarion  | Tonight I Celebrate My Love by Peabo Bryson & Roberta Flack | Candy by Baekhyun | By My Side by JUNNY | Boo’d Up by Ella Mai | Like You by Ciara & Bow Wow

masterlist | inbox | join my taglist | read on wattpad | read on ao3 | divider credit

“People are staring at us.”

You both giggle as the carousel makes its final round, shyly peeking over your shoulders at the crowd of people watching you. Somehow, Wonwoo managed to get the ride operator to start it up with just you two on. 

Both of you hopped from seat to seat like you used to do when you were kids, and your parents had to threaten to take you home if you didn’t remain seated. Although you’re adults now, you’re still fond of the old habit.

“So, let them,” you shrug. “Maybe they’ve got eyes for the cutie on the horse.”

“Can you stop?”

Wonwoo throws his head back when he laughs and clutches his stomach, giving you a glimpse of the smile you haven’t seen in months.

Ever since he and his girlfriend broke things off, he’s been cooped up in his apartment, feeling down and not wanting to be bothered. You’re glad he accepted your offer to go to the fair and take his mind off things. He says he’s fine and looks better than he did five months ago, but you know that something’s still bothering him, and you hope that tonight you can dig deep enough to find it.

“Why would I? This is fun.” 

You both step off as the ride stops, feeling high with adrenaline. Suddenly, you feel his fingertips at your sides, and he playfully tickles you, making you shriek and squirm. 

“Wonwoo!”

On-lookers coo and clutch their chest, mainly older couples and romantics. Neither of you even notices the admiration they have in their eyes until someone grabs your attention.

“You two are such a beautiful couple. May my husband and I have a picture with you? You just remind us of our younger selves,” a lady in her golden years asks with a genuine smile.

Immediately, you begin to break the news to her, but Wonwoo interferes.

“Oh, ma’am, we’re not—”

“Sure! I’ll take it. I have long arms,” he insists, taking her phone when she hands it to him. Wonwoo throws his arm over your shoulder and holds it high enough to capture all four of you. He takes the picture but doesn’t stop there. “Now one for us.”

After returning the woman’s phone to her and her husband, he pulls his device from his pocket and takes another, but this time he brings you in a bit closer. He wraps his arm around you a little tighter and whispers in your ear as he snaps the picture.

“For new memories,” he says to you.

You release a shaky breath when you disperse, and you can’t do anything but smile and wave as the couple bids their farewells. 

You never could explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever Wonwoo would be so close to you in that way. It always seems so intimate, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. You know it’s only those buried feelings that are causing you to react this way and nothing you should feed into.

When you’re finally alone, you turn to him and ask, “So, what now? Are you ready to go?”

“A little bit,” he answers. 

“Well, don’t let me hold you up. I’m probably just gonna go grab something to eat until my roommate’s done fucking her boyfriend. I had fun, so thanks for coming—”

You pause when Wonwoo shakes his head.

“I said I was ready to leave here,” he informs. “Not leave you.”

“Oh, okay. So umm, where do you wanna go?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” he quizzes. “We can go grab something.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he continues.

“Or…we can meet at my place, and we can order something. You can stay over if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I don’t mind,” he assures.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you—”

Your mouth shuts when he gives you a look, but your smile grows when he turns away and starts walking toward the parking lot.

Both of you get in your vehicles and drive towards his apartment, the tingling sensation still coursing through your veins. You try your best to calm yourself before you get there, but as you get out of your car, your legs are wobbly and shaky, indicating that you are far from okay.

Wonwoo turns to you as his door opens.

“Wanna shower?”

Gratefully, you sigh. “Yes, please.”

After a shower, slices of pizza, and a couple of movies, you and Wonwoo lay awkwardly in his bed. Both of you scroll through your phones, trying to ignore the thick tension in the air. There’s something on his tongue; you can hear it. You want to ask him, but you don’t know how.

Eventually, you start to believe it’s just your nerves. You haven’t hung out like this since before his two-year-long relationship, so you figure you just need some re-adjusting. You wiggle your way towards him so you can familiarize yourself with the feeling of being so close to him.

It isn’t long before his fingers start playing in your hair, making your eyes slightly heavy. You roll over on your back so you can look at him and try to stop yourself from falling asleep so quickly.

His smile greets you and leaves you slightly curious.

“What?” you giggle.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

He sighs. “I missed you. That’s all.”

When his eyes begin to wander, you follow them once they’ve set on a particular sight. It just happens to be your thighs, and you start tugging down your borrowed shirt upon the discovery.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, more to himself than anything.

You clear your throat. “Wonwoo, I’m glad you’re feeling like yourself again, but I don’t think I can be your rebound. I’m not—”

“What? No, love. It’s definitely not like that. It’s just…Fuck it.” He shifts in his spot so he can speak to you face to face, leaving you no option but to look at him, even though you’ve been avoiding eye contact since you got here. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“It’s about the breakup…why it happened,” he explains.

You blink a few times. You never knew the reason behind the split or how it happened; it wasn’t your place to ask. Now that he’s finally telling you, there’s an uneasy feeling growing inside of you.

“We broke up because we liked other people. She wasn’t over her ex, and I…”

“And you?...”

He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to lay it all on the table.

“I had to be honest with myself and admit that I’m really in love with my best friend,” he confesses.

Your eyes widen, lips ready to run a mile a minute, but he speaks before you do.

“I thought about this before, but the timing was just never right. And now…” he sighs. “I don’t know. I just feel like we’re on the same page, but then again, you’re looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“Wonwoo, I—”

“I know. You don’t feel the same.”

The disappointment in his voice gives you all the courage you need to come clean, and you do so before you can change your mind.

“I do feel the same,” you admit. “I’ve loved you since we were teenagers. I just never knew how to tell you.”

He seems a little shocked after hearing this.

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, his thumb tracing circles on your hand.

“Yeah.”

Your best friend just stares at you, not saying anything. You hold his gaze and never break eye contact. Moments go by like this, until eventually, his lips begin to hover over yours. They become more inviting the longer you lay there waiting for something to happen.

However, Wonwoo toughens up and makes the first move on your behalf. His mouth presses against yours delicately, and he lowers his body so that you can run your hands through his hair.

You envelop each other and get lost within the first shared kiss between two best friends who have been denying their love for one another for over a decade. The pit of your stomach goes into a frenzy as the butterflies rise and flutter wildly.

Dizziness clouds your mind as you’re swept away by the feeling. You’re light as a feather, so high that coming down seems impossible. 

It doesn’t help that Wonwoo’s lips have become greedier, and his desire is growing by the second. Your legs part to allow him in the space, and he takes the opportunity instantly. Your wrists get pinned above your head while he slowly begins to grind his crotch against yours.

A moan slips out, and he takes the chance to invade your mouth with his thick muscle. Your tongues begin exploring each other’s crevice, and you become drunk off his taste. You can’t get enough of him but the need for oxygen exceeds your lust-driven fantasies.

“I want you,” you say without much thought. Your breathing is labored and rough, but you still try to speak.  “I need you.”

“Fuck, same. But…”

“But what?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No condoms.”

His voice oozes with need, and his bulge is straining against his shorts. He’s as desperate as you are, but he’s trying to hold back.

“We’re good on this end. It’s okay,” you assure him. “Are you?...”

He nods. “Yes, of course. I haven’t since…”

“Well, can we?” you try again. “Please?”

“Okay, baby.”

Wonwoo lets go of your wrists and pulls down his shorts, letting his dick spring out freely. A small gasp escapes you when his length slaps your thigh. You lift your head to see it and instantly become mesmerized by its girth. You crave it and want it to fill every inch of you just like you’ve always fantasized about in your room alone.

“Like what you see?” He smirks when you nod and starts to run the tip up and down your slit, coating it with your arousal and secretly stimulating your throbbing clit. “Let’s see if you can take it.”

When he slowly enters you, your mind goes completely blank. You arch into him as he bottoms out, and he holds you and places kisses up your neck.

“Wonwoo,” you call, and he smiles against your skin.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes, please. I want to feel you.”

Wonwoo’s movements start strong, and he makes sure to hold you in place while he thrusts into you, preventing you from flying off the bed. You cry his name over and over with each powerful snap of his hips.

He lifts your shirt and exposes your breasts to his greedy mouth, taking his time with each stiffened peak and making your eyes roll back from the multiple sources of pleasure you’re receiving. 

The coil inside you tightens until it can no longer stand the pressure, and you blurt out a warning to inform Wonwoo of your orgasm.

“Wonwoo, I’m so close!”

“Me too, baby,” he moans in your ear. You run your nails down his sweaty back to ground yourself because it feels like your soul will leave your body any minute. Wonwoo goes deeper and deeper until you can no longer stand the build-up growing inside of you. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

And on his command, your body gives in, and the pleasure takes over you. Tears roll down your cheeks, but Wonwoo kisses you before the salty droplets can reach your trembling lips. Your entire body is set aflame by the heat coursing through you. The intense feeling leaves you a panting mess beneath Wonwoo, and you just lay there as he fucks you through the rest of your orgasm until he finally reaches his release.

“Fuck, where can I?”

“Anywhere you want,” you answer. “I don’t mind.”

He can only nod as he pulls out and paints your stomach with his warm cum. Wonwoo uses the tip to smear his arousal and spell his name on your skin, making you giggle and slap his arm.

“You’re nasty,” you tell him.

“Anywhere you want… I don’t mind,” he mocks but still leans down to kiss you. 

You pout when he pulls away and disappears into his bathroom for about a minute. When he returns, you’re grateful to see him with a warm washcloth and a new shirt for you. He cleans you up and helps you change before he turns out the lights and joins you in bed. Neither of you say anything at first, but eventually, he can’t hold his tongue anymore.

“I really am in love with you. I would have never done this had you not asked. You’re more than a rebound—”

“I know that, Wonwoo. We’re good, okay?”

You turn on your side so you can hug him, and he nestles in your embrace.

“So, are we keeping this a secret or…?”

You release a breath before you answer, absentmindedly playing in his brown locks. You think about your answer for a moment, and then you reply.

“As much as I want to keep you all to myself… I’ve waited all my life to call you my boyfriend.”

“So what does that mean?” he asks shyly.

“It means…” You tilt his head so he can look at you. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them the truth.”

Wonwoo smirks at you and returns to his position buried in your chest. He whispers as he drifts into his slumber.

“That’s my girl.”

And you couldn’t agree more.

[soulprompts]

SITTING IN SOMEONE'S LAP PROMPTS.

listen. i want to tell ye that i have infinite reasons for making this. that i've been designing this for weeks, months even. but i can't. this happened because i saw one (1) meme and aligned that with two (2) cups of coffee. either way besties, you're all getting a strangely detailed list of reasons to drop your muse into another muse's lap. you wanna switch the roles? add a [ REVERSE ] if you want your muse to be the lap that's being sat in! don't add to this list, don't claim it as your own, i'll curse all your potatoes to be soapy and sad to consume.

[ SHAVE ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap so they can carefully shave the last of the receiver's stubble from their face.

[ MAKE-UP ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap in order to get a better vantage point to apply makeup to their face.

[ SNIP-SNIP ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap whilst giving them a haircut.

[ HAIR ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap so that the receiver can style or just play with their hair in peace.

[ CAR ]: sender ends up sitting in the receiver's lap whilst in a very crowded car together.

[ STUMBLE ]: sender loses their balance and trips backwards, falling into the receiver's lap in the process.

[ INTIMIDATION ]: sender, in an effort to frighten the receiver by invading their personal space, sits in their lap to try and inspire discomfort or fear in them.

[ LOOK ]: sender, wanting to see something that can only really be seen from where the receiver is sitting, sits in their lap in order to see it as well.

[ HEAL ]: sender ends up in the receiver's lap trying to tend to their wounds to the best of their abilities.

[ FEAR ]: a frightened sender sits in the receiver's lap in an effort to feel some measure of safety and protection.

[ COMFORT ]: sender, after a challenging and emotionally draining experience, settles into the receiver's lap in search of a feeling of comfort.

[ ADJUST ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap in order to fix their collar or tie or other item of clothing.

[ STRADDLE ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap with one leg on either side of their legs, straddling them effectively.

[ EMBRACE ]: sender settles in the receiver's lap to give them a long, well-deserved hug in comfort.

[ CARRY ]: sender, having been carried by the receiver for other reasons, winds up sitting in their lap once they sit down.

[ THROW ]: sender flings themselves at the receiver, so eager for a hug that they end up in their lap.

[ DROP ]: exasperated (or maybe just exhausted) the sender drops down into the receiver's lap to rest.

[ CUDDLE ]: eager for some well-earned cuddling, the sender finds it much easier for everyone involved to sit in the receiver's lap during the cuddle session.

[ MOVIE ]: while watching a movie together (and possibly being so distracted by the film that they don't realize what they're doing) the sender settles back into the receiver's lap.

[ CHAIR ]: the distinct lack of available chairs in a room results in the sender having no choice but to sit in the receiver's lap.

[ CLOSENESS ]: after having been apart for a considerable length of time, the sender sits into the receiver's lap just to be close to them.

[ PRETEND ]: in a bid to persuade others that they're in a relationship (even though they're probably not) the sender climbs into the receiver's lap to convince the on-lookers of their legitimacy.

[ LEARN ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap so they can teach them a particular practical skill (e.g. pottery, knot-tying etc.)

[ ACCIDENT ]: the sender, unaware that the seat they're trying to claim is occupied, drops into the receiver's lap without realizing it.

[ EXHAUSTION ]: the sender, surrounded by nothing but uncomfortable places to rest in, finds a solution by sitting in the receiver's lap in order to rest and possibly sleep.

[ CHILLED ]: the sender and receiver find themselves in a particularly cold room, leading the sender to sit in the receiver's lap in order to share body heat.

[ KISS ]: the sender lowers themselves into the receiver's lap in order to kiss them properly.

[ FLIRT ]: the sender, only just beginning to explore the romantic side of a relationship with the receiver, sits in their lap in order to express their feelings clearly.

[ ROMANCE ]: the sender, in a well-established romantic relationship with the receiver, sits in their lap just because they can.

[ THRONE ]: having found the receiver sitting in their throne, the sender sits in their lap in order to symbolically and physically share the seat.