#she is beauty she is grace and all that jazz

[woodblxssomcrowned]

WS!AU Kana. Honestly, thriving.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

How they show affection to you throughout the relationship TW: AFAB Reader, Sexual implications, Cringey men, MY SHITTY ASS WRITERS BLOCK

Lucifer

In the beginning, your story together was anything but perfect. He held unyeilding views about sinners, and in his eyes, you were nothing more than a psychopathic killer, a hopeless drug addict, or even, heaven forbid, a demonic radio host.

Yet somehow, you brought joy into his life. Your corny puns and lighthearted jokes became the new normal for his troubled soul. You consistently put him first, even when you didn’t have to, your calm, gentle smile illuminating the darkest corners of his small world.

It truly began with the small gestures—special nicknames that he lovingly crafted just for you. One fateful day, he became visibly upset when Charlie dared to use the same nickname. He sulked for days, unable to shake off the irritation that someone else had used his personal nickname he made just for you.

As your connection deepened, he began expressing his feelings through lingering touches. Afraid to voice the vastness of his emotions, he sought to convey his affection subtly. He would hold your hand a fraction too long during exchanges, his fingers brushing against yours with a hesitant familiarity. When he tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers lingered against your skin just a moment longer. He would pull you close, his hand resting possessively around your waist, silently claiming you as his own.

Eventually, the weight of his unspoken feelings became too much to bear. He opted for indirect confessions, praising your beauty and grace instead of uttering the words "I love you," which once led to heartache. He swept you off your feet, whether in a playful dance or as you strolled through the infernal streets of Hell, reveling in the joy of simply being together.

The moment of true confession came unexpectedly while Kattie Killjoy was out on the road with her camera crew. She stopped you both, curious about the new sinner who had captured King Lucifer's attention. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, declaring to the Hell's rings that you were his.

That kiss sparked a meaningful conversation about the future of your relationship and the love that had been quietly brewing between you for so long. From that moment, Lucifer began guiding you, helping you find your footing as Hell's next queen, all the while cherishing the fact that you chose to stand by his side.

Alastor

He didn’t hate you; instead, he regarded you as a mere plaything—a soul eager to make a deal, much like countless others before you. To him, people were simply pawns in a grand game, assets he could exploit over time. Yet, he never anticipated the profound impact you would have on his life.

Your calm presence was soothing, like the perfect Jazz song on a long night. You found joy in learning about his past, willingly immersing yourself in the world of Jazz, and becoming an enthusiastic participant. It warmed his heart to know he had at least one dedicated listener who wasn’t bound to him by ownership.

He couldn’t help but notice the way your hands lingered near him, a delicate dance of respect and curiosity. Your decision to take up dancing lessons at Mimzy’s work didn’t go unnoticed either. He appreciated your efforts far more than he would ever admit, silently cherishing the way you sought to connect with him.

It quickly became apparent to everyone in Hell—save for the two of you—that something special was blossoming between you. Your every move was shadowed by a newfound intimacy, and Alastor always seemed prepared with an extra outfit for dancing, making it almost too easy for others to see the affection that was growing between you.

Alastor, recognizing your hesitation to risk hurting him, decided to take the plunge and make the first move. He whisked you away to Mimzy’s dance hall, where you spent the night twirling and swaying together. While dancing was not unusual for you two, it was during the slow songs that he drew you impossibly close, enveloping you in a warmth that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

The truth of your shared feelings came to light when Rosie danced by and playfully remarked on how cute and deadly the two of you appeared together. With a broad smile illuminating his face, Alastor looked down at you, and before you could process the moment, he captured your lips in a searing kiss.

This kiss ignited a whirlwind of chaos around you—a symphony of Mimzy’s complaints, Rosie’s laughter, and the distant hum of TV static as carnage erupted in the streets, instigated by an irate man who had glimpsed a glitchy, blurry photo of your exchange. Although the man who snapped the picture met a swift end, the image ultimately found its way into Vox’s hands, setting off a chain reaction of consequences.

Adam

He was the first man, the quintessential figure, the one and only Adam of the Garden of Eden. With an aura of irresistible charm, he dismissed the notion of singular love or romance, believing he needed a multitude of women to satisfy his desires. Sweet, innocent feelings had no place in his world—at least, that’s what he thought.

Little did he know, you were slowly weaving your way into the fabric of his heart. You were the epitome of a perfect angel, obedient and charmingly polite. Initially, he found your demeanor a tad annoying, but as night fell, his imagination transformed you into the devoted wife he never knew he craved.

Over time, his nicknames for you evolved from crude jests to tender pet names, each one reserved solely for you. If anyone dared to inquire about this softer side, he would scoff, brushing it off as if it never happened. The same went for the fleeting touches—his instinct to stand closely behind you, resting his head on yours or your shoulder—he would never confess to being utterly smitten.

His feelings became undeniable when even the mere mention of Eve or Lilith in your presence ignited a fierce jealousy within him. He yearned to shout from the rooftops that you were the one—the "it girl" who had captured his heart. You were his forever, the beginning and the end.

To solidify these feelings and coax you into his embrace, he made it his mission to cling to you, undeterred by gossip or judgment. He wanted you to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his devotion to you matched yours to him.

The pivotal moment that brought your lips together was orchestrated by Lute, who quite literally pushed you into Adam. Just as he was grappling with cold feet, he found himself frozen in place, your wide, sparkling eyes locked on his. In a whirlwind of surprise, Lute nudged you forward, and as he instinctively caught you, one hand on your lower back and the other tangling in your hair, he realized your hands were resting on his chest. In that electric moment, your lips met, sealing a connection neither of you anticipated.

From that day forward, Lute took immense pride in her matchmaking skills. Whenever Adam wasn’t around, she reveled in bragging about how she had transformed the notorious “massive asshole” into a devoted boyfriend, silencing his incessant boasts about his past conquests. This victory was a personal triumph for her and a welcome relief for the other exorcists, who were finally spared from his relentless chatter about your perfect form.

Husk

He had never been on the lookout for love—not even before his untimely demise. To him, it felt like a distant fantasy, something lost in the chaos of his life. As a gambling man with a penchant for risk, he often found that women were put off by his reckless ways and his struggle with alcohol.

But then you entered his life, and it took far too long for him to realize that his drinking had lessened, replaced by an increasing fascination with you. You became his unexpected remedy, igniting an obsession with your radiant smile and infectious laughter. Your genuine spirit shone brightly, even when the world felt heavy and overwhelming.

He transformed your drinks into special concoctions, always incorporating your favorites—whether they were alcoholic or not. Each glass was adorned with playful fruits and whimsical garnishes aimed at coaxing your smile.

One day, he casually suggested that you help him clean the bar, seizing the opportunity to brush his fingers against your lower back or hold your hands, delighting in the warmth of your presence.

He longed to take a step toward something more official, but with Charlie’s exuberance and Alastor’s unpredictable nature, commitment felt daunting. Yet, it was clear to everyone in the hotel how deeply he cherished you. Encouraged by their nudges, he finally gathered the courage to ask you out, only to stumble over his words and blurt out a clumsy, unrelated question that only made you smile wider.

Determined to make his intentions clear, he devised a plan to ask you out on his own terms. He orchestrated a lovely meal and implored everyone in the hotel to vacate for the afternoon. Once the scene was set, everything fell into place. Your laughter at his classy magic tricks and the sweet rhythm of your conversation made him realize—this was love blooming in its purest form.

When he finally confessed, he was beaming—a remarkable feat for someone who rarely wore a smile. Your genuine warmth and unwavering affection were all that mattered to him, melting away his grumpy exterior.

From that moment on, Husk transformed into a new man. He found purpose in his days, a reason to look forward to the end of his shifts. Yes, the looming presence of the radio demon still weighed on his mind, but you were there, ready to fill the void in his heart with everything he had always longed for.

Vox

You were nothing more than an assistant in his eyes—just a cog in the machine while he juggled the chaotic dynamics of his half-hearted relationship with Val and Vel. Love felt like a distraction; all he craved was power and the sweet satisfaction of seeing Alastor kneeling before him.

Yet, you were an infuriating thorn in his side, clad in alluring short skirts and stockings, flashing a smile that could light up the darkest corners of Hell. Each comment from Val or Vel about you ignited a possessive spark within him. He wanted you all to himself, and he was determined to keep it that way.

The nature of your interactions began to change, starting innocently with the passing of papers or showcasing new products on the tablet. But it quickly escalated to lingering touches—his hands resting possessively on your waist, gentle massages on your shoulders, and teasing breaths against your neck as he leaned in to whisper.

He was intent on making you want him, but pride held him back from crawling to you; that would be too undignified. Instead, he resolved to ensure you needed him just as much. One promise rang clear in his mind: he would never, ever use his hypnosis against you.

His feelings became undeniable the day Val cornered you, a tense moment exacerbated by his foul mood, thanks to Angel Dust’s antics and the fact that you had captured Vox's attention. What began as a heated conversation erupted into a full-blown brawl between the two men, both vying for your affection in one way or another.

When Vox emerged victorious, albeit with a few scrapes, he was seething. But the moment you approached him, your worried eyes searching his, everything shifted. In that instant, he realized you were the one—the only one he would ever need. Forget Alastor on his knees; it was you he craved at his side.

With one passionate kiss, he made his feelings clear, giving Val a defiant middle finger as you and Vox ignited headlines across Hell with your new love story. He would do anything for you—truly anything—and he meant every word.

[m0chisenpai]

Mochi what do you think about 90s model reader (think brandi quinones) and loumand (they 100 percent watch fashions shows in modern days)?

Its cannon that they like people who capture attention (*coff coff* lestat). I think they would meet her in a show and would send her flowers and letters to court her and all that jazz

Sorry if this is weird :/

vogue

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

in which your pefermonce off and on the runway catches their attention

author note: I ate this up so much, I literally scoured Pintrest and fell down a rabbit hole and have to fight every desire in my body to do another multipart series for this

The production people move like flies past your eyes while you sit in your regal beauty. Eyes unblinking, legs crossed perfectly, your hair now braided pulled up into a bun with a few pieces falling and curled.

You hold the hand of Armand, his finger runs over and over. You've come to learn this calms not just your nerves but his as well. Louis remains off to the side, he is weary of cameras these days. Preferring to leave you and Armand to such matters.

But when you pout those lips and flutters those ethereal eyes he relents to sit to the sides.

When the interviewer settles in the chair he has your attention and your back straightens.

"Runway, Vogue and Dior, red carpets, music videos. But your most recent appearance in the critically acclaimed rock star The Vampire Lestat's music video put's you back in the public eye when you should look much more...different." That breaks your picturesque facade with a light giggle that crinkles your dark lined eyes,

"That damned name'

'Calm yourself my love.' You catch Louis' fleeting gaze.

"How does the face of the 80s and 90s reappear in the 2000s rained in blood and completely untouched by age?"

"Hmm I think I have my wonderous loves to thank for that, there are only so many things that can hide the thief of the night that is time. But I seem to be lucky to have escaped its grasp." Armand places a languid kiss to the back of your hand while Louis raises his glass from the side.

"I believe the Gift only encapsulated the beauty she had from the moment we first met." Armand speaks up.

"And this would be during your rookie years as an athlete may say?"

"Yes at the beginning of my runway career in my early 20s, though I would not turn till 30. Around the mid 80s I was found by my lovely companions when I was at my lowest. Watching from the sides. And I did everything to ensure not to fall in love."

"Cheeky." Louis coos in your mind.

"Let's go back then, how were you back then? You say you were at your lowest but your face was desired by so many."

"Beauty, fame, money, sex is all so fleeting. And the fashion industry sucked every bit out of you till you were a husk for them to drag along until the needles and knife was needed to hide any evidence of your decline."

Armand will never admit it out loud but he was particularly fond of the 80s and 90s. He loved the fashions o each era, but he fell in love with runway. It was theatre in an entirely new facet. Louis can recall, though his companions face was stone cold, the glimmer of warmth in his eyes that watched each and every model. Catching every small finite detail.

Louis was more than happy to donate and invest in the ocassional piece for Armand who returned the favor. Until one evening they are encaptured by a beauty amount the sea of tall skinny legs.

This angel that graced the runway one evening of Paris Fasion week. It was dull, Armand confided in Louis as they dressed for the show they and and a few exclusive members were invited to.

One by one Armand began to count them like sheep until she entered. A sheer black tube tob pencil skirt dress with a billowy white blouse beneath. Your eyes are smoky and sharp and your lips a bright chery red. When you walk, you lack the stiffness the other girls move with, no no you glide. The runway is your stage, you dance so beautifully.

Armand sits up as you walk past. He neded you then, he neededyou now.

When you are off you brush past the fussy designers who bark orders in French that is too fast and English far too broken. All you care to know is you have a period of relief to indulge in a smoke and soon after a bump from one of your acquaintances.

You slump in your seat, a cigarette warms you up as you enjoy the momentary silence until you are up again. You grow tired, bored of this. You see it boiling in your eyes, past the makeup, the eye liner and rouge.

From your side one of the assistants carefully moves to your side.

"For you ma'am a gift from some of our most generous investors of the arts."

"M' not sleeping with them" you mumble around the still lit cigarette which dangles from your lips as you open the card tucked into the dozens of fresh roses.

"A rose for a rose." You grumble putting out your cigarette on the card and getting up to squeeze into the sheer scandalous dress though you would hardly call it that with the pièce de résistance being an intricate veil that twists and covers and is encrusted with diamonds around your face and binding in the back.

As you go to line up, standing still for any changes and a quick make up touch you are nudged to get in line. But a thought lingers in your mind.

When you walk you can't help but wonder, which one of you wants to sleep and tell the tale, hm?

"On the contrary my dear." You almost falter when you turn to walk back. That man's voice sends shives down your spine as you carefully make sure not to falter. "We would prefer to have you more than just in the flesh."

His partner to the left flashes you a cocky smile. He's lucky you are being watched otherwise you would have scowled.

"Aw, don't scowl like that chere."

They follow you to London. Your picture is in all the tabloids and paprazzi is stationed outside of your hotel where you quckly find the bar. In an act of defiance, and trying to add your flare, you stopped during midwalk to kiss the collar of your mysterious suitor leaving a perfect red stain.

Since then your manager has been bombarded with numerous calls for editorials, spreads, and interviews.

"Another glass for her please."

Your eyes cut to the beautiful man whose eyes look enchanting through the fog of smoke he carefully clows away from your direction. A black turtle neck tucked into a pair of slacks to battle the chill.

But no words can describe the work of art that are his eyes which stare deep into your yours,

"I don't sleep with fashion fanatics, not anymore at least" you mumble into the dirty martini before a new one is placed in front of you.

The corner of his lips twitch into a mix of a smile and a smirk.

"Nah I'm not into the whole art of fashion. Just a simple collector is all," he watches how your luscious lips leave a red imprint along the rim of the glass.

"Oh? And do I fit your collection?"

He hums, "I'd dare to say you outshine it."

"Let me guess," you rest your cigarette in the ashtray to give him your undivided attention. "Your wife wants to watch doesn't she?" Your eyes look pass his shoulder at the women and some of your fellow workers.

"Your far off. Got no wife, but my companion does enjoy to watch ocasionally." Louis leans forward, his chin on your shoulder and his cold lips touch your ear. "And he's been watching this entire time my dear."

Your head quickly turns and sure enough, a man watches at the end of the bar. A gass half filled, his both arms rest on the counter and his eyes remain unmoving on you both.

"Put her tab on my card will you?" Your mysterious heart throb drops a card that clanks and you catch a glimps of the name.

"Louis de Pointe du Lac" you read it to yourself as he stands to walk languidly to the man. Placing a hand don his shoulder and sitting beside him.

You should be unnerved by their constant appearances, but you enjoy this game of cat and mouse. Sharing words at afterparties, drinks at hotel bars, and one night together in the satin sheets of Milan.

Your room is always filled with flowers when you arrive. Champagne and chocolates await by your bedside. You never fail to find their eyes in the crowd, you dare to say this is what love must feel like.

You keep the notes and letters from Armand. His way with words are what bring the light back in your eyes as you walk and model.

Whatever it is, your agent tells you one day, keep it up. because you begin t see a spike in your career and appearances. Leading you to walk your first large red carpet event.

When you step out of the shining vintage car immediately you are met with flashes, clinging to your sur shrug for comfort imagining their arms as you walk and pause for questions and for photographs.

"Can we be under the assumption you have a special someone?" Your interviewer asks over the roar of paparazzi and photographers at a red carpet event.

"Hmm, I guess you could continue to speculate." You give a cheeky grin to the camera as you walk off with a flurry of questions at your leathered heels.

When you enter the museum hosting the charity event they await you. Your drop your shrug into the arms of one of the attendants while Armand takes hold of your clutch. You walk in between them looking at the beautifully restored and donated pieces. The theme is very rococo and you adore it, the artwork, pottery and ceramics and the beautifully restored gowns on display.

"Oh my goodness look at this one, it reminds me of a Monet" you coo as you stand before the water lily pond. Your hand on your chest as you pause. You wish it were yours. Though it is not the original you want it still.

And that's enough for Armand to place a red sticker near the artists name.

"Oh you didn't have to, Armand." you pout at him as he cups your jaw looking into your eyes.

"You clearly desired it, did you not?" When all you do is nod he hums. His thumb begins to stroke the soft skin of your jaw. "Then you shall have it."

"We would travel the cities I was in. And during the off season I spent here or in the comforts of one of our other homes. I believe Berlin will be our destination this year for the holidays, right my love?"

And how can Armand no to those eyes.

They gleam with mischief, golden flakes sparkle in your bright eyes. "Whatever her hearts desires I have assumed the duty to fulfill each ofthem, we both do."

You shush him, had you still been mortal you swear your cheeks would be flushed.

The interviewer

"But I believe this Gift would have to be my most treasured one."

[corkinavoid]

Fun Facts about Fiance to a Star

Lore/relationship drama of Phantom family and those connected to it, this time. Long post, be warned.

It all started like a fairytale - Madeline Walker was the fairest in all lands, beauty and grace, genius magical prodigy, skilled with a sword, kind, loyal, and fierce. When she first came to AMITIE, young and full of stars in her eyes, Clockwork had warned her not to dig too deep.

She did not give his warning much thought.

Over the years, a lot of men tried to win her over, but she declined all of them. Vlad, who had fallen in love with her at first sight, decided to be smarter than most and claimed the place of her best friend, hoping that later she would notice him. Madeline did not. Instead, she had fallen - both literally and metaphorically - all over Jack Fenton, who, unlike all others, had never given much thought to her beauty or genius. Jack only saw a girl who was just as interested in studying otherlings as he was.

The three of them together - Maddie, Jack, and Vlad - had created lots and lots of trouble during their years in AMITIE. It was Jack who once overrun the fifth floor by a giant plant spirit - a weave of a charm gone wrong. Even now, years later, it is not recommended to bring any plants on the fifth floor hence they may come to life. It was Vlad who accidentally forced a blessing of Nocturn over a whole class of White Golds, and Clockwork had to spend a week trying to release them from their forever sleep. It was Maddie who engraved an explosion charm into her staff, which backfired splendidly a month later - the ceiling of the cafeteria still has a few scorch marks from that day.

And it was all them together who created the first unmarked door.

It was a breakthrough, a path to the Other Side, an accomplishment like no other. For the first time, humans could come to the Other Side at will.

Unfortunately, it also meant that otherlings could come into the Mortal Realm just as easily. But nor Maddie, nor Jack or Vlad knew it then.

Excited at the successful experiment, the working door to the Infinite Lands, Madeline proposed to Jack then and there, and he, overwhelmed by his happiness from all sides, agreed instantly. Vlad was forced to accept it - he did not like it, but Maddie made her choice, and he could not convince her otherwise.

Just a year later, Jazz was born. And, by sheer coincidence, the second unmarked door had appeared, not in the research labs in the underground floors, but on the eighth floor, by Vortex's classroom, without anyone noticing.

It was not long until the Darkest Pariah had noticed these new paths. And, when he went through out of curiosity, what did he find? A place full of mages of all sizes and shapes. Ancients - his subjects - teaching humans of the ways of magic. And a charming maiden with hair as bright as fire and a wicked grin on her lips, with magic like no other. It must have been destiny.

Yet, when he asked, the maiden turned him down, just like she did with every other man. She claimed she was already married. Pariah did not understand - her soul was untied, which meant whatever marriage she was speaking of has not been official in his understanding. So, finding no other way to claim what he already thought of as his, he stole the love of his life and brought her to the Other Side.

She fought him. Again and again, every day, until Pariah saw no other way than to simply charm her into accepting him.

A year later, the Wandering Star was born. Maddie insisted on him having a human name as well, but Pariah never liked how 'Daniel' sounded.

Meanwhile, as Pariah was enjoying his play-pretend at a family, back in the Mortal Realm, both Jack and Vlad were going insane with worry. They kept searching and searching for Madeline, first together, then separately after a fair share of arguments between them. It was Vlad who had finally found her through many trials and dangers. In Pariah's castle. With a kid.

Long story short, he stole her away, together with Danny, and brought them both back to the Academy. The charm Pariah put Madeline under fell just as they got to the Tower, and Vlad, in his frenzied and panicked state, confessed to her at that moment. He told her he could protect her and do it better than her oaf of a husband, he would accept the half-otherling kid, he would do anything for her. He already did everything for her, he stood in the way of a burning curse that was guarding Pariah's castle...

But Maddie, overwhelmed by a sudden flood of memories that came back after Pariah's charm fell, pushed him away and ran to find Jack, leaving the heartbroken, cursed man where he stood.

In the next few years, everything seemed to go back to normal. The doors - each and every one that spawned over the Tower - were sealed and locked away. Jack and Jazz reunited with Maddie, and Danny was accepted into the Fenton family easily. Clockwork offered them to stay, to live in the Tower - if Maddie or Danny ever stepped out, they would immediately be found by Pariah. The Academy was the only place that was hidden from his gaze.

Danny grew and learned more and more. He met Tucker when he was five - the boy's family were magi-blacksmiths, and they moved to the town near the Academy to have access to its research and labs. Later, they both met Sam. She was undergoing a course of Trait control in the Tower since her familial plant powers were amplified by a blessing granted by Undergrowth. Sam bragged about a prophecy that spoke of her gaining unlimited power in the future.

Vlad, who disappeared shortly after Maddie's return - supposedly to gain control over the remains of the burning curse that were left in his body - came back when Danny was eleven. Yet, he didn't try reconnecting with Fentons, nor did he speak to Danny about anything. He buried himself in research and, slowly, merged in the background. Just another unfamiliar face in the crowd, another researcher in the Tower.

When Danny was twelve, he found one of the sealed unmarked doors. What happened next, everyone in the Academy remembered as the Time Catastrophe: when re-opened by a child that had way more power than he could control, the door did not lead him to a different place. Rather, it led him to a different time. Clockwork later explained it as a mistake caused by the fact he was personally mentoring Danny most of the time, so the boy must have unconsciously picked up a thing of two from him, from the Ancient of Time.

In any case, through that door came Dan. And it went... Not very well, but by the end of it, the older, different, wrong version of Wandering Star stayed in this dimension. After all, it was an accident that brought him here, and there was no way to send him back. Jack and Maddie offered him to join the family, of course, but the man declined. And, seeing that he was not the Child of King to the Other Side, not the one Pariah was looking for, Clockwork let him leave the Tower. He became a mercenary - a wanderer - and wasn't that ironic, given his name.

Everything came to an end two years later, when Danny turned fourteen. The Rift, a giant portal to the Other Side, opened over the Tower, and countless demons came through it. And, at the front lines of the otherling invasion, was the Darkest Pariah.

On his right side was Vlad and a girl who looked so much like Danny.

The demons, born over the years from Pariah's loss, grief, and anger, could not get through the walls of the Tower. Guarded by the oldest Ancient, it stood tall and protected by numerous shields the Ancients have created over the ages. Fentons were safe inside, but... There was no one to stop Pariah. The Ancients, bound by the Crown, could not fight the King, only defend themselves. So, in his attempt at luring the ones he desired out, Pariah sent the demons to towns and cities around, threatening to keep killing everyone they find until the Academy gives him what he wants. And he wanted Maddie.

When she heard about it, she knew she had no choice. One life over hundreds, maybe thousands of others, it was a simple decision. Yet, before she could make it, a child stood up in front of Pariah.

Danny, who cared for his mother and called Jack his father, despite knowing he was not born to him. Danny, who spent his life in the Tower, closed off from the wide world because of Pariah's obsession. Danny, with two friends by his side, an ice blade in his trembling hands and silver in his eyes that spoke of anger, of hurt, and of a burning desire to protect those he loved.

The Rift was closed only half a day after it was open.

Darkest Pariah met his end at his son's hand.

To the outside world, the Rift had been an unfortunate catastrophe caused and later handled by the mages of Academy. Only a handful of people - and the otherlings, of course - knew the truth, and none of them really wanted to share it.

Vlad, narrowly escaping death with the help of Dani, was made to stay at the Academy, where Clockwork could keep an eye on him. He never confessed it, but everyone was sure he's been the traitor who told Pariah of Maddie's and Danny's whereabouts.

Dani - Vlad's poor attempt at recreating Danny, the reasons for which he also never told another soul about - had spent nearly a year in Frostbite's care. At first, she remained loyal to Vlad as her creator, but over time, with the help of many talks with both Danny and Clockwork, she learned the whole ugly truth about everything that happened. Since then, she never spoke to Vlad and never returned to the Academy, spending her life as a free spirit and roaming the world.

Soon after the fall of Pariah, Maddie, who was now free to leave the Tower, decided that her life as a mage and researcher had come to an end and left it behind. Jack followed her, deeming his wife more important than magic. They offered both Jazz and Danny to go with them, but Danny could not leave the Tower yet - not because of someone or something keeping him there anymore, but because of the responsibility that fell on his shoulders after Pariah's defeat. He was the Heir now, the rightful Prince to the Other Side. Jazz stayed behind as well, for many reasons, starting with the fact she did not want to abandon her brother and ending with her own goals, most of which were related to magic.

Two years later, Clockwork had given Danny a scroll with a long-forgotten prophecy that tied him with one of the Gotham princes.

-------

This is the very brief run-through Danny's life before the events of Fiance to a Star. I skipped over a lot of details here, like how Sam's prophecy turned out, for example (short answer to that is pretty much 'unfortunate plant possession'). If you have any questions about other characters, feel free to ask them! Depending on how much I get, I might end up making a whole another post with answers.

Oh, yeah, by the way, about Fenton/Phantom. Fenton is Jack's last name, and, naturally, both Jazz and Danny have it. Yet, Dan and Dani technically do not belong to the family, so after Jack and Maddie left, Dani jokingly offered Phantom as a last name for Danny, Dan, and her. Since they are phantoms of each other, she thought it was poetic. The boys thought it was a great idea, and later, Jazz was also included in the Phantom family. It wasn't long before Sam and Tucker also started using it, so now they are a weird mix of friends and family that all go by one last name in certain circles (among otherlings, mostly).

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Norma Shearer (Marie Antoinette, The Women)— First Jewish woman to win an Oscar for her acting!! She pioneered stronger, more independent and complicated roles for women onscreen. One film historian described her as "the exemplar of sophisticated modern womanhood and ... the first American film actress to make it chic and acceptable to be single and not a virgin on screen."

Hazel Scott (Broadway Rhythm, Rhapsody in Blue)—ok ok let me tell you about Hazel Scott. She was a Trinidadian piano genius. By the age of 3 she could play the piano by ear. She would play jazzed-up versions of classics in nightclubs and could sing too! She appeared in five movies, and used her influence as a piano prodigy to improve Black representation in film—she turned down offensive parts, demanded equal pay, and always wore her own costumes to ensure she was portrayed as glamorous and beautiful. She was the first African-American woman to host her own television show, The Hazel Scott Show. She stood up for civil rights and was an overall icon! If you want to watch her being a genius, here she is playing two pianos at once. And here's this one that shows off her consummate glamor! [videos beneath the cut]

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

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Norma Shearer:

She got into showbiz on a technicality, there was a line of 60 girls to pick from, the studio needed 8 and she was second from last. She coughed loudly and then stood up and grinned when the casting director looked over at her, and he let her in because it made him laugh. After that there was several years of hard work before she landed her first movie. Where she had been repeatedly put down for her face in silent film, he was praised for her voice when the talkies first came about. She was most in her element in the pre-code era, when she played the strong, graceful, self-sufficient type of woman and she won the academy award for best actress in The Divorcee in 1930. She directly competed with greats like Greta Garbo and Joan Crawford for the rest of the 30s.

She just epitomizes Old Hollywood to me and seems criminally underrated these days

Short-haired, modern woman, pre-code queen

someone call the fire department because this woman is H-O-T HOT!! Three chilis and a warning label hot!! Ever-burning passion HOT!!! But also glam and elegant and gorgeous (the side profile portrait is the most beautiful picture of any person ever)... she has the range

Hazel Scott:

[piratefishmama]

Finders Givers | Part 1

“—But maybe someday when my ship comes iiiin~ She’ll understand what kinda guy I’ve been, an then I’ll win”

“Chrriiiisss!!” Eddie whined as he tossed himself onto his front, burrowing his head under the pillow

“And when she’s waaalkin, she’s loookin, so FI-I-IIIINE!!”

“CHRIS!!” It was no use, she couldn’t hear him. Too busy belting out Billy Joel in their little kitchenette at… he shoved his pillow aside, realising it was a fruitless endeavour to try and block out the dying cat that was his roommate.

They’d gotten in at just gone two in the morning after blowing the very last of their ‘rainy day’ fund on ten for two dollar shots at a local student haunt, and now it was… ten in the morning, they didn’t have jobs left to get ready for, he still hadn't been able to find his wallet anywhere.

And Chrissy was. Singing.

As if they didn’t have to start job hunting again or risk the fury that was their greasy landlord and his mission to extort them of all their hard earned money. They’d be out on their asses by months end if they didn’t find something soon and the band wasn’t raking in as much cash as he’d have liked for it to be raking in.

Last he heard some big shot was looking to buy the Hideout too, probably shut them down for good. That’d be just their luck.

“An when she’s TAAALKIN she’ll say that she’s MI-I-IIINEE!” He threw his covers off, accepting defeat. At least it smelled like eggs and bacon, so she was clearly cooking the last of their breakfast foods.

Chrissy was of course in her sleep shirt, legs bare, with naught but slipper socks to keep her toes cosy on the tile floors of their kitchenette, swaying to the vinyl player belting out Billy Joel by the open window. Many a man’s fantasy come true, Chrissy was a vision while lost in her favourite music, but to him, Eddie Munson resident flaming homosexual, okay she was still beautiful he had eyes, but those leggy legs and swaying hips didn’t do it for him, thanks. “CHRISS!!”

And she jumped, barely managing to save the bacon from winding up as a sacrifice to the dastardly floor gods. Whipping around to face him, she graced him with the signature Chrissy ‘sunshine smile’ which… didn’t track for the killer hangover she ought to have had given she had three rounds of those shots all in that tiny-ass body of hers.

“Eddieee!!”

“Chrisssyyyy, what’cha doin, Chriss?”

“Breakfast! And Billy Joel!”

“I see that, at… ten in the morning, after student night!” They weren’t students, Chriss could pass for one though “Whaaat’s going on?”

“Letter! The letter, on the top there, read it!” And she was turning her back again hips swaying, moving the foods over to two plates, the only two they currently had clean, oof, it was his turn on dishes, damn what he wouldn’t give for a dishwasher.

Curiosity piqued, he crossed the short distance (it wasn’t a large apartment) and plucked up the neatly tri-folded piece of paper, letterheaded with a real fancy SH logo, a business address and corporate phone number, the letter reading,

“Dear Tenant” he didn’t do inner voices, he had to read it out loud “This is to inform you that as of the week commencing June 12th the building will be under… under new… new ownership?!” He looked up, eyes wide with alarm.

“Keep reading!!” She prompted as if predicting his alarm, she wasn’t even looking at him, clearly jazzed about something, new ownership? The building had been sold from under them and she was happy? He looked back at the paper.

“At this time, we will be… suspending… suspending?” She nodded, turning with two plates in her hand to their tiny little table that Wayne had donated when they moved in “suspending your required rent payments as we… look toward renovating the building and all apartments within.”

“Keep reading, there’s more!” He sat down at his usual chair, paper held in both hands, eyes fixed to the print as he read.

“Any rent arrears accrued in the duration of the building renovations will be… hold up—”

“Yep.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, not joking, it’s official I called them this morning, took me ages to get through to someone but it’s legit, Eddie.”

“But—but shit like this—this doesn’t happen Chriss, and you know what the Police said that one time you got scammed, right? If it seems too good—” he was still looking at that word, that one little word that made all the difference.

“Then it’s probably too good to be true! I know, I know, but I got the confirmation from their office, I GOOGLED the number too, I didn’t just call the one on the letter cause I know scams can get’cha that way.” Although what kind of scam it could be was baffling as it wasn’t asking for money it was saying they wouldn’t be asking for money for a while “sobered my ass right up let me tell you, best hangover cure in the world, and Mrs Jablonski next door got one too! And Dottie across the hall, I’m pretty sure I heard upstairs yelling earlier, an I mean like happy yelling, not yelling yelling like usual. Cheering! I think it’s legit, Eddie…”

“So… we just… we don’t have to pay rent, at all… for however the fuck long these renovations take to happen? Do we have an expected completion date to these renovations? Or start date?”

“Nope, just a from week commencing, the lady on the phone had no idea about them but she got the confirmation from ‘upstairs’ and just said there’d be more information sent to us eventually and not to worry about it.”

“Not to worry—not to worry about it?” He wanted to worry about it, every fibre of his being demanded he worry about it. Not that they could even pay rent if it was asked for, they had no money and no jobs after he’d decked their line manager for calling Chrissy fat, she was not fat, and she’d only just stopped staring at herself in the mirror as if every inch of her was wrong. She’d passed the month mark since she‘d last forced herself to throw up. She was finally getting some plump back into her cheeks.

She was on the mend. She was recovering. And he’d just—Eddie had seen red. He just wished he’d have been wearing his rings at the time.

“You can call them if you want!” She spoke around a mouthful of sunny side up eggs. “I think whatever it was, was a really random decision high up, like… it wasn’t something decided upon by a board of directors or anything because she took a while to get confirmation about it, but—but I dunno Eddie, maybe… maybe things can be good for a while.” They wouldn’t have to panic about getting jobs.

Wouldn’t have to deal with grease trap Carl the guy who collected their rent every month who seemed to just… always be greasy. Hands, hair, face, clothes. Who’d look at Chrissy like she was a piece of meat, or make disgusting comments about how lucky Eddie was to live with her, while she was stood right there holding Eddie’s arm back stopping him from launching at the guy.

Wayne had offered to run the guy over one time “Would be a one an done, son, would catch him at just the right time as he left the place an be gone just as fast, wouldn’t even know I was there.” Like a grade A parent, with all the gold stars available at the local craft store. But Eddie could deal with Carl.

They wouldn’t have to anymore though. If this was legit, it meant Carl was gone. No more Carl.

“…Screw calling them, I think we should go down there and see what’s up.”

“M’kay, but eat your damn breakfast that’s the last of the maple bacon an you got the bigger piece.” If he immediately traded the bigger piece on his plate for the smaller one on hers, well… she only smiled over it, she liked the maple kind more than him anyway.

Or so he'd told her.

Part 3

[cheynovak]

Old Hollywood

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: At the end of an opulent party, Ben, Hollywood’s golden boy, takes his girlfriend Y/N on a quiet walk home. Her silence a reminder of Ben's earlier thoughtless behavior. Regret softens him, and he approaches her with a quiet apology, asking to dance

Warnings: nothing too graphic.

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The party glittered like a scene pulled straight from a dream, an intoxicating mix of laughter, jazz, and the clinking of glasses. Ben, or Soldier Boy as the world knew him, sat at the center of it all, as effortlessly commanding as ever. The cut of his tuxedo was immaculate, the sharp lines accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame.

His hair was slicked back with precision, his smirk a magnetic pull that drew people to him like moths to a flame. Around him, a small circle of Hollywood elites and his old war buddies hung on every word he spoke, laughing a little too hard at his jokes, their admiration almost palpable.

But Ben’s attention wasn’t on them. It was on Y/N.

She sat beside him, her presence quiet but powerful. Her gown was a masterpiece: the bustier sculpted her waist and accentuated her figure, while the feathered skirt swirled with every slight movement like liquid moonlight.

The city’s elite might have had their jewels and their silks, but none of them could compare to her. Her beauty wasn’t just in the way she looked; it was in the way she carried herself—graceful and unassuming, a rare treasure in a world of gaudy excess.

And she was his newest possession.

Yet, despite her beauty, she was subdued tonight, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Ben noticed. He always noticed. But instead of addressing it, he leaned into his role, letting the room admire him as he cracked jokes and sipped champagne.

He wanted to bring her into the spotlight with him, but every time he tried, she withdrew just a little more. His frustration, always lurking beneath his polished surface, slipped out in subtle ways—a dismissive comment here, a clipped tone there.

By the time they left the party, the tension between them was a silent undercurrent. The city air was crisp as they strolled through the streets, the buildings above them sparkling like diamonds against the night sky.

Ben slid his hand to the small of her back, a protective gesture that also served as his way of grounding himself. He didn’t say much, just let the sounds of the city fill the quiet between them.

He stole glances at her, the way her face caught the glow of passing headlights, the way her dress fluttered with each step. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, and for once, he didn’t know how to tell her.

When they reached their apartment, Y/N slipped out of her coat and moved toward the record player, her movements fluid and familiar.

She chose a record and placed the needle with care, the soft crackle giving way to the soulful strains of a jazz melody. She poured herself a drink, the amber liquid catching the low light of the room, and stood by the bar, her back to him.

Ben leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

The tension in her shoulders, the silence that felt heavier than the night itself—it gnawed at him. He replayed the evening in his mind, his clipped words, his casual disregard for her quieter nature. His frustration at her reluctance to shine the way he believed she should had turned him into a brute.

He hated himself for it.

“May I?” he asked, his voice softer than it had been all night, as he stepped toward her and extended his hand.

She turned to him, her eyes searching his face for a moment before she placed her hand in his. He guided her to the center of the room, his other hand settling gently on her waist. The music swirled around them as he began to sway, their bodies moving in time with the rhythm.

At first, she was stiff, her movements hesitant, but he held her close, his thumb brushing against the small of her back in slow, reassuring circles. He leaned in, his lips close to her ear. “You looked like an angel tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. “The kind of beauty that makes the world stop.”

She tilted her head slightly, her body relaxing as his words melted away the barriers she’d built up. His fingers grazed her chin, lifting her face so their eyes met. “You have no idea how lucky I am, Y/N,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t say it enough, but it’s true.”

Her lips parted, a soft breath escaping, but before she could respond, he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his lips warm against her skin. He trailed upward, slow and deliberate, pausing to brush his lips against the curve of her neck, where he felt her pulse quicken beneath his touch.

“Forgive me?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear as he nipped at the lobe. Her soft gasp was all the encouragement he needed.

When he finally kissed her lips, it wasn’t the bold, brash kiss of the star the world knew him to be. It was tender, filled with the kind of vulnerability he only ever showed her.

His hands cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone as he poured his heart into her, into them. The world outside faded, leaving only the music, the dim light, and the heat of their embrace.

As they swayed in place, their foreheads resting against each other, he whispered, “I love you, Y/N. More than I can put into words.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she smiled softly.

The night might have started with tension, but now, in the quiet intimacy of their home, there was only love.

Ben's kiss deepened, his lips trailing softly along her jawline, then down to the curve of her neck. His touch was reverent, his hands sliding up her sides, the callouses on his fingers brushing against the soft silk of her skin. He didn’t rush, didn’t overwhelm her—he simply worshipped her, like he always did, but tonight with an extra layer of tenderness.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?” he murmured against her neck, his voice thick with emotion. “The way you pull everyone’s gaze without trying. You don’t need the lights or the camera—you shine on your own.”

Y/N leaned into his touch, her breath hitching as his lips trailed lower, brushing over her collarbone. His hands slid over her waist, kneading gently, his thumbs brushing the curve of her ribs like he was savoring the feel of her.

“You remind me of something I can’t quite name,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “something rare. Like the first warm breeze after a long winter—or the way the sun feels when it breaks through the clouds.”

His words settled over her, soft and intimate, filling the spaces between them as he pulled her closer.

He kissed her shoulder, then the hollow of her throat, and she shivered as his hands traced the flowing fabric of her gown. His fingers found the feathers at her hem, teasing the edge of her skirt as if to test whether she’d let him explore further. She melted into him, giving him silent permission.

“You know,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear, “I thought I’d seen it all. Hollywood, war, the ugliest and the most beautiful things in the world. But then I saw you that first day on set, and I swear, my whole world stood still.”

Her hands slid up his chest, finding their way to the knot of his tie. She tugged gently, and he took the hint, shrugging out of his jacket and undoing his tie with a practiced flick of his wrist. As it fell to the floor, his hands returned to her, sliding around to cradle her back as he held her against him.

“I remember the way you looked under those studio lights,” he continued, his voice rough with the memory. “You weren’t even the star of the scene, but you stole it.”

Her cheeks flushed, but before she could respond, his lips found hers again, silencing any protests or doubts. His hands wandered, not in a hurried or possessive way, but with a care that left her breathless.

“And then,” he said, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, “when I got to know you, really know you... It was over for me. You’re not just beautiful—you have this soul that catches people off guard, that makes them see the world differently."

"You made me see differently. Be different."

She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing over the sharp planes of his cheekbones. Her chest swelled with the weight of his words, the raw honesty in his voice.

“Ben,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm and steady, grounding them both. “You don’t understand, sweetheart. You’re it for me. The reason I keep trying, keep fighting, keep wanting more. Not for the fame, not for the legacy—for you.”

His lips descended on hers again, slow and deliberate, as if he could pour every unsaid word into the kiss. His hands slid down her sides, tracing every curve with the care of a sculptor rediscovering his masterpiece.

“You’re everything I didn’t know I needed,” he murmured against her lips. His gaze locked with hers, dark and earnest. “And I’ll spend every day proving I’m worthy of you.”

As his lips resumed their exploration, trailing lower, mapping the bare expanses of her skin, she felt herself fall deeper. Not into him, but with him, into the world they’d built together—a world where he could show her, one kiss at a time, just how much she meant to him.

Ben turned her gently, his hands firm but careful as he guided her to face away from him. His fingers brushed over her bare shoulders, pausing at the small zipper nestled at the back of her dress. He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, his breath warm and tinged with desire.

“After that first on-set kiss,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every night, I dreamed of you. Of tasting you. Of hearing you moan my name.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in response to his confession. His hands moved to the zipper, slowly tugging it down as he spoke, his words soft but charged with intent.

“I wondered how your skin would feel,” he continued, his lips brushing along the back of her neck, following the path the zipper revealed. “How you’d tremble under my touch. How you’d melt if I kissed you here...” He pressed his lips to the newly exposed skin at the base of her neck.

“And here...” He kissed lower, his mouth tracing her spine as the zipper gave way. His voice dropped even further, his tone molten as he continued. “I wanted to know how you’d sound when I finally made you mine.”

The dress loosened, sliding off her shoulders as his lips continued their descent, trailing heat along the line of her back. He knelt behind her, the fabric pooling at her feet as his hands found her hips. His fingers splayed, gripping her firmly as if to steady himself, his thumbs brushing over the curves he’d worshipped in his mind a hundred times before.

His lips found the small of her back, pressing open-mouthed kisses that left her shivering under his touch. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and hunger.

One of his hands slid lower, grasping her behind as he leaned forward, his lips following the curve of her spine. “Perfect,” he muttered, squeezing softly, his touch both possessive and adoring. “You drive me crazy, you know that? Every inch of you.”

She couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him, her body responding to the way he touched her, the way he spoke as if she were the only thing that had ever mattered to him. And maybe, in this moment, she was.

Ben stayed on his knees, his hands firmly on her hips, guiding her to turn back toward him. As the dress slipped fully away, he looked up at her, his darkened gaze tracing every line and curve of her body as if committing her to memory. His hands slid up, brushing her thighs, then her waist, reverent and deliberate.

“You’re a goddess,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “My goddess.”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her belly, slow and soft, lingering as if he could taste the heat of her skin. The contrast of his stubble against her softness sent shivers through her, and she couldn’t stop her fingers from tangling in his hair, tugging him closer.

He kissed his way upward, his lips trailing just below her navel, then higher, pausing to worship every inch of her.

Her breath hitched as his mouth pressed between her ribs, then between the curves of her breasts. His lips were warm, his tongue teasing as he whispered against her skin, “This is where I belong—here, with you, like this.”

A moan slipped from her lips, soft and unrestrained. “Ben...” His name left her mouth like a prayer, her voice trembling with need.

The sound of her moan lit something wild in him, and he surged upward, capturing her mouth with his own in a kiss that was as desperate as it was consuming.

His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer as his lips moved against hers with raw intensity. The taste of her, the way her mouth parted for him, the way her nails scraped against his scalp—it undid him.

He broke the kiss just enough to whisper against her lips, his voice a low growl, “Say it again. Say my name baby, who do you belong to."

“Ben,” she breathed, her voice shaking with longing.

His lips crashed into hers again, devouring the sound, his hands sliding up her back to hold her firmly.

--

And cut!” startled Y/N. She blinked, the vivid daydream that had overtaken her mind fading as reality snapped back into focus.

She was sitting off to the side, waiting for her boss, Soldiee boy to finish his scene. He was starring in a new romantic movie set in the 1940s. But her thoughts had been far from professional.

As she watched him storm off the soundstage, barking complaints at anyone within earshot, her heart sank. Ben’s temper was infamous, and today was no exception. “Everyone here’s a damn idiot!” he ranted, his voice booming as he made his way to his trailer. “Can’t act, can’t direct, can’t even hold a damn light right. It’s like working with amateurs.”

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip before rising to follow him. She trailed behind him like a shadow, small and uncertain, her mind still reeling from the fantasy that had played out in her head. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to get lost in thoughts like that about him. Ben was her boss, her larger-than-life, impossible-to-please boss. She had no business thinking about him like that.

But the memory of her daydream lingered, her skin still warm with the imagined heat of his touch. She shook her head, silently berating herself as she followed him into his trailer.

The door slammed shut behind her, and Ben turned, already pacing like a caged lion. His tuxedo jacket was slung over one arm, his hair slightly mussed from the long day of filming. He looked every bit the larger-than-life star he was, his presence filling the small space effortlessly.

“What’s with you?” he asked suddenly, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he looked at her.

Y/N froze, her cheeks flushing as she realized her face must still be red from her earlier thoughts. She shook her head quickly, avoiding his gaze.

“N-nothing,” she stammered.

Ben’s expression darkened. “Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Don’t act like all those annoying little bitches who giggle and blush and waste my fucking time."

"If you have nothing useful to say, just leave.”

The words hit like a slap, and tears pricked the corners of Y/N’s eyes. She turned away, heading for the door, trying to hide the sting of his words, but it was no use. He noticed.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softer now, his hand reaching out to grab her wrist. “Y/N, wait—”

But she didn’t let him finish. Fueled by frustration, hurt, and the whirlwind of emotions she’d been fighting since she worked for him, she spun back around and did the only thing her heart told her to.

Rising on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as if to anchor herself.

For a moment, the world stopped.

Ben didn’t move. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t pull her closer either. His body was tense, rigid, as if he didn’t quite know how to react. Y/N felt the stillness like a weight in her chest, and mortified, she pulled back, her hand covering her mouth.

Her voice trembled as she whispered, “I—I’m so sorry.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned and fled, the door to the trailer swinging shut behind her.

Ben stood frozen, his lips still tingling from the kiss. His mind raced, replaying the moment over and over again.

Y/N, sweet, unassuming Y/N, had kissed him.

And instead of reacting, he’d just… stood there.

Not knowing what to do.

--

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[aifanfictions]

Write a story about Y/N is a model with Baki Hanma.Y/N is a sexy model and has a cheerful, friendly, humorous and kind but innocent nature

Sensuality in Silk and Strength

In the heart of Tokyo, where the city's vibrant pulse met the neon glow of its streets, Y/N was a name whispered in awe and reverence. She wasn't just a model; she was the embodiment of beauty, an enchanting muse who graced the covers of high-fashion magazines and posed for couture designers around the world. Her long, raven hair cascaded like a silken waterfall, her eyes held the mysteries of the cosmos, and her body seemed to defy the very laws of physics.

Yet, it wasn't just Y/N's physical allure that captivated everyone who crossed her path. What set her apart was her enchanting personality—an intoxicating blend of cheerfulness, friendliness, humor, and kindness that radiated an innocent warmth. She had the gift of making everyone around her feel extraordinary, and her genuine laughter was like a beacon in the darkest of times.

One sultry summer evening, after a whirlwind day of photoshoots, Y/N found herself in a chic, dimly lit bar tucked away in the heart of the city. It was a place where the ambiance was designed for quiet moments and whispered secrets, a place where the soft jazz music in the background seemed to sway with the rhythm of her heart.

As she sat at the bar, sipping on a martini, her eyes wandered, and they fell upon a man whose presence was as powerful as it was intriguing. Baki Hanma was his name, and he was a living legend in Tokyo. Renowned for his rugged strength and chiseled features, he was a martial artist whose reputation in the underground fighting circuit was nothing short of legendary.

Y/N couldn't help but be drawn to the enigmatic aura that surrounded him. His muscular physique was a testament to years of grueling training, and his eyes held an intensity that suggested a life lived on the edge. There was a mysterious allure about Baki that intrigued Y/N, a pull that was impossible to ignore.

With a playful smile, Y/N decided to make her move. She glided over to Baki, her long legs gracefully carrying her to his side. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, her voice a soft, inviting melody.

Baki, the man known for his stoic and guarded nature, looked up at her, his dark eyes meeting her enchanting gaze. For the first time in a long while, he found himself at a loss for words. Y/N was a vision, her presence radiating warmth and charm that were as inviting as a soft embrace. He gestured to the empty seat beside him. "Please, have a seat."

As they began to talk, Y/N's humor and innocence shone through, and she regaled Baki with funny anecdotes from her modeling career. He found himself laughing in a way he hadn't in years, her charm and humor unraveling the layers of stoicism that had encased his heart for so long.

Y/N's kindness and genuine interest in him touched a chord deep within Baki. He shared stories of his martial arts journey, of the battles he had fought, both in the ring and in the unforgiving arena of life. She listened intently, her eyes filled with admiration and empathy, and for the first time, Baki felt seen and understood in a way that transcended the physical.

As the evening wore on, the connection between them grew more sensual, more charged. The jazz music that swirled around them seemed to underscore the palpable attraction that had ignited between Y/N and Baki. They leaned in closer, their bodies almost magnetically drawn to each other, and their eyes locked in a silent promise of what was to come.

In the dimly lit bar, Y/N's fingers gently brushed against Baki's, and the electric spark that surged between them was undeniable. Their lips drew closer, and the world around them seemed to dissolve as they shared a passionate and longing kiss.

It was a kiss that spoke of the chemistry and desire that had ignited between them, a kiss that marked the beginning of a love story that defied all expectations. Y/N, the radiant model, and Baki, the powerful fighter, had found a connection that transcended their respective worlds, a love that was as intense and unyielding as the battles Baki fought in the underground.

The night continued with shared laughter, deep conversations, and stolen glances that spoke of desire. Y/N and Baki, two people from vastly different backgrounds, discovered that love was a force that could unite even the most unlikely of souls.

The hours passed like a whirlwind, and in the quiet moments between whispered words and lingering touches, the atmosphere between Y/N and Baki grew increasingly sensual and charged. As they left the bar, their hands were interlocked, and their steps synchronized as they embarked on an unforgettable journey.

In the days and weeks that followed, Y/N and Baki's love story continued to blossom. They explored Tokyo together, experiencing the city in ways that were both romantic and daring. The bustling streets of Tokyo became their playground, and every corner held a new adventure. Baki's strength and Y/N's sensuality blended in a harmony that was as intense as it was intoxicating.

Their love was not just sensual; it was a passionate and all-encompassing whirlwind. With every passing moment, their connection deepened, as if they had discovered a completeness in each other that had eluded them for so long. Baki, the fierce warrior, had become Y/N's protector, a guardian for the innocence she had managed to preserve even in the demanding world of modeling.

As they navigated life together, Y/N's humor and innocence continued to shine, tempering Baki's intensity with laughter and lightness. She brought a warmth into his life that he had never known before, and her love had the power to melt the most stoic of hearts.

Their love story was a testament to the idea that love often finds us when we least expect it, and it can be as powerful and unyielding as Baki's strength in the ring. With Y/N's infectious laughter and Baki's unwavering dedication, their love was a blend of sensuality, strength, and an innocence that could never be tarnished.

As the seasons changed and Tokyo's cityscape evolved, Y/N and Baki continued to grow in love. They traveled the world together, exploring new horizons and deepening their bond. Their love story became the stuff of legends, a tale of sensuality and strength, of passion and devotion that defied all odds.

In the end, Y/N and Baki, two individuals who seemed worlds apart, had discovered a love that was as intense as it was enduring. Their love was the fusion of sensuality and strength, a magnetic force that had brought two souls together in a romance that would endure for a lifetime, and perhaps even beyond.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

[slippin-over-simpin]

Fly Me to the Moon (Tennant x reader)

this is crossposted on Ao3.

Even on the lavish balcony as you stared into the night, you could still hear the loud sound of jazz from the inside of the manor. Even speaking as a noble woman, you could never get used to the crowds of gatherings, such as the one during that night.

Oh, that night, that night when your life would unknowingly change forever. Whether it was a good change or a bad one, you still couldn’t decide, but one thing was for certain, was that when you saw her.

You had heard a noise, startling you to look behind, back at the wide and tall glass doors. There stood a woman, a tall, blonde beauty, smirking slightly at you as she crossed her arms and leaned on the wall. The teasing playfulness in those crimson eyes caused you to flush slightly. She wore a fine coat off her shoulders, and her button up blouse was tucked neatly into her dress pants. In all honesty, she seemed to be more of a gentleman than any of the gentlemen in the party.

As you were taking in the other woman’s appearance, she chuckled before she spoke to you.

“Greetings, my lady, and why might a sight, such as yourself, be doing out here, on her own?” She took this chance to join you on the balcony, using the rail to rest her arm on as she gazed at you. You cleared your throat, fixing your skirt before looking back at her. The alluring smirk still graced her face as she looked at you, expectantly. 

“Just needed some fresh air…”, you brought your gaze back to the sky of diamonds that surrounded the both of you. The sight of the night was definitely an addicting one, but the woman beside you decided you were far more of a curiosity than those distant flames in the sky. And she made it her personal mission of the night to make you dependent on her poison, but such a sweet taste it was.

She pouted slightly at your distraction, the whole reason she followed you out there in the first place was to gain your attention. She sighed as she gently brought one of her gloved hands to your face, and guided you to look at her once more. When your head was turned back at her, your eyes widened slightly from shock.

“That doesn’t tell me why you need to ‘get fresh air’ in solitude, my lady”, you could’ve sworn she was purring at you. She slowly guided her hand from your cheek, down to your chin. Once said hand reached its destination, she used her thumb to tease your bottom lip. You felt your lip quiver, whether from her touch or the sheer cold, you couldn’t quite tell.

You pulled away bashfully, before answering, “It’s not proper to be caught out in the cold with a stranger”. At your answer, she let out a laugh. You busied yourself by playing with jewels that adorned your neck. 

“Oh, pardon my manners…,” she bowed and brought your hand to her lips, “the name’s Tennant, my fair lady. And yours?”

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

the detective & the dark knight | chapter 4

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal m*rders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f! main character

Author’s note: Prepare for soft Bruce getting in his feels over Marie. They go on a date, Marie overthinks their relationship (bestie needs to chill), and she nearly gives Batman a heart attack when she puts herself in danger. This is my favorite chapter so far! 

Word count: 4k

Warnings/tags: mentions of murder, mentions of police bribes, fighting

Marie Manning’s apartment was bathed in a warm, amber glow as she moved around, preparing for her date with Bruce Wayne. She hadn’t ever expected to find herself in this situation, but here she was, picking out an outfit and checking the clock every few minutes. 

The doorbell rang, and Marie jumped, almost knocking over a nearby stack of case files. She hurried to the door, smoothing down her satin dress and taking a deep breath.

“Hey, Detective Manning.” Bruce greeted with his signature charm, holding out a bouquet of tulips. “These are for you.”

Marie’s face lit up. “Oh, thank you Bruce, that’s really sweet. You definitely didn’t have to. Come on in.”

Bruce took a moment to truly see Marie, appreciating her as she was—without the gala gown or her usual detective gear. She stood tall, her long dark hair cascading in soft curls down her back, and her brown eyes, usually so intense and focused, now seemed to hold a softer, more vulnerable light.

He had recognized her beauty during their first encounter at the docks. There was a raw, captivating charm about her, a blend of strength and grace that made his heart ache with admiration.

Bruce stepped inside and took in the stacks of paperwork and case files scattered about. His gaze landed on Marie’s cat, lounging comfortably on a pile of files.

“You really do have a cozy setup here,” Bruce said, nodding toward the cat.

Marie laughed as she arranged the flowers in a vase. “‘Cozy’ is one way to put it. I prefer ‘organized chaos.’”

Marbles stretched lazily before heading over to Bruce and rubbing against his leg. Bruce smirked. “I see your cat’s already made himself comfortable with me. Is that a sign of approval?”

Marie grinned and gave Bruce a playful nudge. “Well, if Marbles trusts you, then I guess I can too. So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

Bruce’s smile widened. “I’ve got a nice place in mind. It’ll be much better than our last interaction together.” He was thinking about their recent meeting at a crime scene for the Red Lotus case, but quickly corrected himself. “I mean, way better than the gala.”

Marie raised an eyebrow. “You’d better live up to that promise, Wayne.”

“I’ve made reservations at this little bistro I think you’ll like. It’s quiet and quaint—perfect for a night away from the organized chaos.”

Marie nodded, grabbing her long overcoat. “Sounds perfect. Lead the way.”

The restaurant's ambience was intimate, with soft jazz playing in the background and flickering candlelight lighting up the area. They settled into their booth, and Bruce raised his glass with a grin. “To a night free from crime scenes and paperwork.”

Marie clinked her glass with his, chuckling. “And what would you know about crime scenes and paperwork, Mr. Billionaire?”

He laughed softly. “You’d be surprised. Even billionaires have their share of chaos.”

“At least tonight, we get to enjoy a break from it all.” Marie responded.

Bruce nodded. “Absolutely. Here’s to a peaceful evening.”

Bruce’s words carried a subtle irony. He savored this rare moment of calm with Marie, yet guilt tugged at him. While she saw him as just Bruce Wayne, unaware of his alter ego as Batman and the battles he fought, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of selfishness and remorse for keeping that part of himself hidden from her.

“So, Marie,” Bruce said, “Tell me about your first days on the force. I bet they were something.”

Marie’s smile wavered slightly. “Shit, where do I start? My first big case was a robbery-turned-shooting, and I was completely clueless. I remember stepping over blood and broken glass, and thinking, ‘Yep, this is definitely not a drill.’”

Bruce leaned in, fascinated. “That sounds intense.”

“It was,” Marie said, “I remember one night, a few months in, I was chasing a suspect. I tripped and fell, and suddenly, I was staring down the barrel of a gun. I just froze.”

Bruce’s eyes widened. “Did anything happen?”

“Yeah,” She said, thinking back to that night, “A patrol car showed up just in time to save my sorry ass. But that moment… it made me realize how real this job is. And how easy it is to feel vulnerable.”

Bruce listened intently, his expression thoughtful. “I can’t imagine how tough that must have been,” he said, offering Marie a reassuring smile. He continued, “You know, Marie, you’re one of the best detectives Gotham has. And one of the few truly honest people at the GCPD.”

Marie looked up, feeling grateful, but surprised. “How do you know that?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Oh, you know, Gotham’s a city where corruption is... pretty evident.”

Marie smiled, “I guess that’s true. It’s nice to hear someone appreciate the hard work we put in.”

Bruce looked at Marie with genuine curiosity. “What made you choose law enforcement?”

Marie’s eyes clouded with a brief, distant sadness. Bruce noticed and gently placed his hand over hers. “It’s a bit of a story,” she began. “My dad was a detective. He was killed on the job when I was a kid, going after some small-time crook. It was shitty—really shitty. It nearly shattered my family. Becoming a detective was my way of making sense of it all and staying connected to him."

Marie took a breath before continuing, "He loved his work, and I like to think he’d be proud of me for carrying on.”

“I understand that more than you might think. Losing parents is something I'm familiar with. It’s different, but I get the drive to honor their memory.” Bruce said, feeling enormously grateful that Marie opened up to him.

She gave a small, appreciative smile. “It’s comforting to hear that. It’s not always easy, but it’s what keeps me going.”

To lighten the mood, Marie took a sip of her wine and leaned in with a playful glint in her eye. “So, Bruce, what’s your life like outside of the high society events? What’s the billionaire playboy up to when he's not dazzling everyone?”

Bruce looked slightly taken aback but quickly recovered. “Oh, you know, just the usual—business meetings, philanthropy, and the occasional quiet evening at home.”

Their plates of spaghetti arrives, and Marie began twisting her fork in the noodles. “Sounds pretty standard. But surely there’s more to it than that. What’s a typical day like for you?”

Bruce hesitated, his fork pausing mid-air. “Well, I... I like to stay busy. There are always new projects and challenges. But I also try to make time for things that matter.”

Marie nodded, “Like what? Do you have any hobbies or interests outside of work?”

Bruce smiled, clearly choosing his words carefully. “I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie. I enjoy activities that get my heart racing. Keeps me on my toes.”

Marie laughed. “Adrenaline junkie, huh? Sounds like you have a taste for excitement. I can relate. I guess we both like to keep things interesting.”

Bruce’s smile grew, and he raised his glass again. “Here’s to finding balance, no matter how chaotic life gets.”

Marie clinked her glass with his once more, her eyes warm. “Cheers to that.”

They spent the rest of the evening lost in conversation, their bond growing stronger with each shared story and laugh. When they finally left the restaurant, the cool night air felt invigorating. Bruce walked Marie to her apartment, her hand wrapped in his.

They reached Marie’s door, and she turned to Bruce with a smile. “This was a lot of fun. I never thought I’d get a date with a billionaire.”

Bruce grinned. “And I never thought I’d get a date with Gotham’s top detective.”

Marie glanced up at Bruce, her fingers idly playing with the edge of his jacket as she gathered her thoughts. “Bruce, can we talk for a sec?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sure, what’s up?”

Marie took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his jacket against her fingers. “I’ve really enjoyed tonight. You’re... well, you’re great. But I need you to know something before we get too ahead of ourselves.”

Bruce leaned in slightly, his gaze softening. “Okay, hit me with it.”

Marie fiddled with the fabric, struggling a bit with her words. “My job is... kind of all-consuming. I can get pulled into work at any hour, and some days it’s like working a double shift. I just wanted to be upfront about it. I know we’ve only been on one date, but—”

Bruce reached out, gently placing a hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Marie, I get it. You don’t need to worry about rushing into anything.”

She looked at him, feeling a rush of relief. “Thanks, Bruce. I just wanted to be honest about what you’re getting into.”

Bruce smiled, his hand still resting on hers. “I’m no stranger to unpredictability. My job can be like that, too.”

Marie’s eyes softened as she felt the warmth of his touch. “It’s really good to hear that. It’s nice knowing someone understands.”

Bruce chuckled softly. “I’m here for whatever comes next, whether it’s more of these nights or the craziness of your job.”

Marie's heart pulsed, “That means a lot to me.”

Bruce took a small step back, his hand lingering on hers for a moment longer. “I’ll see you soon, Marie.”

She nodded, feeling a mix of warmth and anticipation. “See you soon, Bruce.”

With a final, reassuring smile, Bruce turned and walked into the night. Marie watched him disappear, still in disbelief that she had just been on a date with Bruce Wayne. She lingered by the door, a gentle smile on her lips, savoring the moment before finally closing it behind her.

—-------------------------------

The next morning, Marie was back at the precinct, surrounded by the usual clamor of ringing phones and clacking keyboards. Marie and Gordon had taken a quiet moment in his office to discuss their next steps on the Red Lotus case. The blinds were drawn, casting long shadows across the desk, making the room feel calm amidst the usual unrest of the station.

Marie sat across from Gordon, fidgeting with the edge of a case file. She looked up, her expression uncertain. “Gordon, I need to talk to you about something. Something outside of work.” Gordon broke his focus from the paperwork on his desk and met her eyes.

“I’ve been seeing someone. Bruce Wayne. We went on a date, and it was… well, it was great.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Bruce Wayne, huh? The billionaire playboy. I didn’t expect that. Guess you guys really hit it off at the gala.”

Marie sighed and rubbed her temples. “Yeah, it’s been... complicated.”

Gordon looked surprised. “I thought you said the date was good?”

“It was. The date was amazing. He said he wants to see me again.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“My job is a mess. Balancing it while being in a relationship is tough. I’ve never had time for anything serious before.” She felt a pang of insecurity upon revealing that detail.

She continued, “It’s not that I don’t want to be dating someone, but honestly, I’ve never even had time to download a dating app. And it’s not like I’m meeting guys while working late nights at the precinct.” Marie glanced out the window into the precinct’s lobby, where Harvey Bullock and a few other cops were hunched over, shoveling chips and sodas into their mouths. “Well, not any halfway decent guys, at least.” 

Gordon sighed, “Let me guess, you’re worried that work might affect this budding relationship with Mr. Wayne?”

Marie nodded, looking troubled. “Exactly. I could be on call at any hour, and I can’t just turn off being a detective. I’ve never had a life outside of this job. It’s like the moment I try to have something normal, it feels like it’s going to get swallowed up by work."

Gordon leaned forward, his tone firm but gentle. “Marie, this job will take everything from you if you let it. It’s a beast, and it’s never satisfied. But that doesn’t mean you should let it destroy everything else in your life.”

Marie looked up, surprised. “You think so?”

“Absolutely.” Gordon nodded, “You’ve earned this time with someone special. You deserve a balance, and you shouldn’t let the job dictate every aspect of your life. Hell, even I’ve had to learn that the hard way.”

Marie’s eyes widened. “How do you manage it?”

Gordon shrugged slightly. “It’s not easy. There’s no magic formula. But I’ve learned to make space for what matters, even when it feels impossible. You need to protect those parts of your life that give you happiness. Otherwise, you’ll end up a shell of yourself.”

Marie’s shoulders relaxed a bit, a small smile forming. “I’m just scared that if I let my guard down, things will fall apart.”

Gordon’s expression was encouraging. “You’re not alone in this. There’s no shame in wanting a life outside of this job. If Bruce is someone who makes you happy, don’t push him away because you’re afraid. It’s okay to let yourself be human.”

Marie nodded, feeling understood. “I guess I need to figure out how to make room for both parts of my life.”

Gordon gave her a reassuring smile. “You will. You’re one of the best detectives I know, but you’re also one of the best people I know. You deserve to be happy. Don’t forget that.”

Marie stood up, feeling a bit lighter. “Thanks, Gordon. I really needed to hear that.”

Gordon gave her a nod as she headed for the door. “Anytime, Detective.”

—-------------------------------

A few hours later, Marie was at her desk surrounded by a chaotic array of case files. The Red Lotus case had her on edge. Upon studying her most recent notes, she was convinced the next murder would occur at an old industrial plant near Gotham Hospital.

She found Commissioner Gordon in his office, packing up to head home for the day. “Boss, I need to get in touch with Batman. I’ve got a lead on the Red Lotus case.”

Gordon checked his watch before looking at Marie, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “It's awfully late, don't you have a cat that will miss you if you're out too late?"

When Marie's expression didn't change, he continued, "There’s a broken floodlight on the roof. It’s not exactly high-tech, but it’s how I usually get his attention.”

Marie’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Really? That’s… oddly brilliant. I’ll go up there and give it a try.”

On the roof, Marie fumbled with the old floodlight, trying to get it working. After a few awkward attempts, she managed to get the light beaming into the night sky, resembling a crude Bat-Signal.

She stared at the light, feeling a mix of anticipation and impatience. “Come on, Batman. I’m not exactly an expert at this.”

Minutes ticked by, and Marie’s anxiety grew. She muttered to herself, “Maybe he’s caught in traffic. Or maybe he’s just not into following broken floodlights.”

Frustrated, she decided to head to the industrial plant on her own. As she drove up to the location, she noticed the place was as ominous as she had imagined. The shadows and decaying machinery made it feel like a scene from a horror movie.

Marie approached the entrance, her nerves increasing with every step. The shadows seemed to stretch everywhere, and the dim, flickering lights cast unsettling shapes on the walls. Her stomach churned with a mix of anxiety and determination. She had expected Batman to show up by now, but he was still nowhere in sight. The unease gnawed at her; she felt exposed and alone.

As she neared the entrance, the sound of engines roared behind her. Marie turned to see black SUVs pulling up, their headlights slicing through the gloom. She braced herself as Falcone’s men emerged, their intimidating presence amplifying her sense of dread.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” one of Falcone’s goons said with a sneer. The man had a brutish face, a scar running down his cheek, and his eyes were cold and menacing.

Marie tried to steady her breathing as she faced them. “Falcone,” she called out, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts. “Let’s cut the bullshit. Are you behind the Red Lotus murders?”

Falcone stepped out of the shadows with an air of casual arrogance. His sharp, tailored suit seemed out of place against the backdrop of the crumbling industrial plant. He looked Marie up and down with a dismissive smirk, making her skin crawl. “Why would I be behind those murders?” he drawled, his gaze lingering uncomfortably. “I’m being set up. Someone’s trying to pin this whole mess on me.”

Marie’s eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling to the surface. “Framed, huh? For what reason? Why would anyone go through all the trouble to set you up?”

Falcone’s smile widened, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Well, darling, that’s a question for someone with a bit more brain power than you. But it’s definitely easier to pay people off than to deal with nosy detectives.”

Marie’s jaw tightened. “So you’re saying you’re just handing out bribes to keep people quiet? Sounds like you’re more worried about covering your tracks than finding out who's framing you.”

Falcone chuckled, shaking his head. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But really, it’s easier to silence people than deal with the mess they cause. Especially when they’re poking around where they shouldn’t be.”

Marie’s patience snapped. “Enough with the crap, Falcone. If you’re not behind the murders, why are you trying to bribe me to back off? You’re hiding something.”

Falcone’s demeanor darkened. “Listen, detective, I’m not here to play games. It’s called ‘business.’ Sometimes you have to grease palms to keep things running smoothly. Doesn’t mean I’m behind every fuckin’ mess that happens in this city.”

She felt a surge of anger. “Business? Is that what you call it? Paying people off and getting away with murder? I’m not buying your bullshit.”

“I’m done with this, take her out.” Falcone announced, waving his fingers towards his groupies.

Before she could react further, his men moved in. One of them threw a punch, catching Marie off guard. She staggered, the blow hitting her squarely in the ribs. She gritted her teeth, trying to fight back, but the sheer number of attackers overwhelmed her. Each punch and kick seemed to blend into a haze of pain. She was able to land a few good punches before they overpowered her.

“Fuck you,” Marie gasped as another thug slammed her against the wall. A punch to her jaw brought the sharp, coppery taste of blood to her mouth. She spat the blood onto her attacker’s face, her struggle to defend herself growing more desperate with each agonizing second.

Just as the situation seemed dire, a grappling hook shot through the air, and Batman descended with a powerful landing that sent Falcone’s goons sprawling. The Dark Knight moved with expert precision, his strikes a blur of efficiency and force. Each of Falcone's thugs fell or fled under the relentless onslaught.

“Perfect timing,” Marie muttered bitterly, falling to the ground as Batman’s intervention ended the assault. The thugs were either incapacitated or running for their lives, leaving the grimy, derelict plant in an eerie silence. Falcone was nowhere to be seen.

Batman’s focus shifted immediately to Marie. He knelt beside her, his expression hidden but his concern evident in the harsh lines of his posture. He gently examined her injuries, his gloved hands careful but firm. His breath came in heavy, controlled bursts as he took in the extent of her bruises and cuts.

“This is what happens when you don’t wait for backup,” Batman said, his voice low but laced with frustration. “What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone? You could’ve been killed. This isn’t a damn game.”

Marie winced as he touched a particularly sore spot on her jaw. “I didn’t have time to wait,” she snapped, trying to mask her pain with defiance. “I was on a lead, and I needed to act before it got cold.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask. “You’re not invincible, Detective. You’re lucky I showed up when I did. What if I hadn’t been here? You were losing that fight. These guys will end you, and you'll never be seen again.”

Marie tried to sit up, but the pain kept her laying down. “You think I don't know that?" Batman didn't respond.

She spoke up, "Oh, and where were you when I used the floodlight? I waited, but you didn’t show up. You think I can just sit around and wait forever? What kind of detective would that make me?”

Batman’s anger was palpable. “I was following another lead. I didn’t realize you’d be in this much danger. This city is dangerous, and you should’ve known better than to come here without backup.”

Marie’s gaze was filled with pain. “Well, maybe if you were more reliable, I wouldn’t have had to face this alone.” Moments passed as Bruce continued scanning her wounds.

His voice softened slightly, though it remained stern. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been here sooner. But you have to be more careful. Gotham’s not a place for heroics without a plan or backup.”

Marie’s irritation didn’t wane, but she nodded, recognizing the truth in his words. “Fine. Let’s just get out of here. I don’t want to hang around for another round of thugs.”

Batman helped her to her feet, his arm securely wrapped around her waist to support her. Marie couldn’t help but notice the sheer size of his muscles pressing against her, and she felt a surge of irritation. "Great," she thought, "as if his stupidly amazing physique wasn’t already impressive enough." The tension between them was palpable as they made their way out of the industrial plant, Marie’s anger simmering beneath the surface.

Once outside, Batman glanced back at the ruined plant, his mind racing through the night’s events. His voice was quieter, almost softer, as if Bruce Wayne was momentarily taking over. “You need to be more cautious,” he said, struggling to articulate the depth of his concern. His words fell short, unable to fully express how much he cared for her and how deeply it hurt him to see her injured.

“I’ll make sure you get medical attention,” he continued, his tone firm yet caring. “Don’t think that you can keep doing this without consequences.”

Marie met his gaze, her own concern mirroring his. “I get it. I’ll be more careful. But remember, I’m not just another asset. I’m out here doing what I can to stop the madness.”

With a final, pained look at the darkened plant, Batman and Marie disappeared into the night.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

I Have You Now

RadioApple X Reader

This is based on the song "Rule #34—Fish Inside a Birdcage", which is one of my all-time favorite bands. I have never written a poly story, but let's try it.

TW: AFAB Reader, Tentacles, Bondage, Sexual relations, Rough Sex, Polyamory, Voyeurism

The jazz club pulsed with electric energy, a tapestry of laughter and low, sultry whispers weaving through the air. Alastor had chosen this vibrant haven for a reason—it was the perfect backdrop to deepen his connection with Lucifer, a bond that had grown richer and more adventurous. They were both searching for new experiences to ignite the flames of their passion and tonight, they were ready to explore uncharted territories.

With a sly glint in his eye, Alastor had orchestrated a plan, putting out feelers for a captivating beauty who could match the formidable allure of both himself and Lucifer. And oh, how Mimzy had delivered. 

Alastor had visited the enchanting woman alone on numerous occasions, each rendezvous filled with tantalizing anticipation and whispered secrets. But tonight was different; Lucifer had expressed a desire to join him, to meet the woman who had trapped Alastor’s thoughts and desires.

They held a sacred agreement in their unique relationship: no touching unless permission was granted beforehand. Alastor, the more primal of the two, had always taken the lead in selecting who would grace their bed. Still, this woman had become an irresistible obsession, drawing him back repeatedly. Lucifer craved a taste of her allure, and Alastor was eager to share.

As the lights dimmed, anticipation crackled, and a hush swept over the crowd. The stage bathed in a soft, seductive glow, and a striking sinner emerged, her silhouette draped in a deep red sequin dress that caught the light like shimmering embers. She gripped the microphone with effortless grace, her voice emerging as a breathy caress that wove through the jazzy notes, wrapping around each listener like a lover’s embrace.

The audience was spellbound, whistling and hollering, their enthusiasm palpable. Her body was a work of art—every curve and contour mesmerizing, her face a fascinating blend of beauty and mischief. But her voice, a sultry hymn that stirred something primal in the hearts of all present, truly captivated them.

How envious they would be if they knew that this intoxicating siren, whose soft melodies filled the room, would soon be screaming and begging in ecstasy between the two most powerful beings of hell.

As her set unfolded, each song seemed to heighten Lucifer’s intrigue. His eyes were glued to her as she danced with a sultry confidence, the sequins of her dress glinting and shimmering until, by the last number, it transformed into a daring bodysuit that left little to the imagination.

“She wears that when we meet her in the back…” Alastor’s warm breath ghosted over Lucifer’s neck, a stark contrast to the cool shivers that coursed down his spine at the sound of her voice. Nodding helplessly, Lucifer surrendered to the enchantment, finally understanding why Alastor had been so drawn to this woman, even without sharing a bed.

As Mimzy took the stage to gently usher away the hopeful souls desperate for the sinner’s attention, Alastor felt a thrill of anticipation. Tonight wasn’t just about his time with Y/N but about witnessing the intoxicating dance between Lucifer and this mesmerizing enchantress. 

The night was still young, and the promise of passion loomed just around the corner, ready to unfold in a symphony of desire and exploration.

Helping Lucifer to his feet, Alastor guided him toward the VIP section of Mimzy's club, the air thick with anticipation and the heady scent of desire. As they entered, they were greeted by a living tapestry of beauty and seduction—Y/N and several other enchanting women glided gracefully between tables, their laughter and whispers mingling with the sultry jazz that filled the room. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the soft sounds of debauchery, a siren call for those ready to indulge.

Alastor felt a primal thrill surge through him; if Lucifer felt the same magnetic pull toward Y/N, he was ready to bring her home with them—Mimzy's rules be damned. Lucifer sank into one of the plush green armchairs, enveloped in comfort, while Alastor stood protectively behind him, his hand resting gently on his shoulder.

When Y/N locked eyes with them, it was as if a spark ignited between them. She was adorned in her stunning deep red sequin bodysuit, each facet glimmering as she moved. Her black strappy heels accentuated her long legs, and a bright red boa draped around her arms like a lover’s embrace. 

Lucifer's thoughts spiraled into delicious fantasies of restraint and pleasure, envisioning all the ways he could tie her up, making her plead for his attention. Meanwhile, Alastor couldn't help but imagine the intoxicating sight of Lucifer and this captivating woman beneath him, utterly powerless and exquisite.

As she approached, Y/N gracefully settled onto Lucifer’s lap, her chest tantalizingly close to his face, and glanced up at Alastor with a playful pout on her candied lips. 

“Oh, so he’s the one you brag about, Ali… He is handsome… such pretty porcelain skin…” Her perfectly manicured nails traced a delicate path down Lucifer’s cheek to the bowtie around his neck, tugging playfully.

The tension in Lucifer’s pants grew unbearable as he emitted a low growl, gripping the sides of his chair tightly to restrain himself from taking her right then and there. 

“Alastor has spoken of you often, Miss Y/N, yet your beauty transcends mere words…” His voice was rich and husky, the evidence of his arousal only fueling her desires as she shifted, straddling him with a sultry grace.

“Hmmm, Ali seems to do a lot of talking. I am more of an actions woman myself.” She ran her hands along Lucifer’s arms, guiding them to her hips, her body pressing against him. A sweet, delicate moan escaped her lips as she ground against his growing need.

“My, my, you two! Had I known this visceral reaction would happen, I would have introduced you sooner,” Alastor said, his desire flaring hotter by the second. 

She declined whenever he asked Y/N to be his courtesan, claiming Mimzy offered her everything she needed. But tonight, with Lucifer alongside him, he hoped to show her an unforgettable experience that would change her mind.

Mimzy approached, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “My, my, Alastor, planning to steal my most profitable soul by bringing your boy toy along?”

Alastor smirked, gently taking Y/N’s hand from Lucifer’s shoulder helping her to stand. As she rose, he assisted Lucifer, who was flushed and visibly aroused. 

“Now, Mimzy, a real broker, doesn’t show all his cards right away,” Alastor teased, leading Y/N down the hallway toward her room. “We’ll be where I always end up when I visit.”

Y/N’s room was a sanctuary, secluded from the revelry of the club. Mimzy had taken special care to craft a space where her siren voice could enchant without distraction. As they entered, the ruby-red room was aglow with candlelight, casting soft shadows that danced across the walls.

“Hmmm, I hope you two like it,” she purred, pulling away from the men as she sauntered deeper into her domain. Her movements were languid hypnotic, and both men followed her with hungry eyes. She settled onto the bed, legs crossed, leaning back with a flirtatious head tilt.

“Alastor told me we would have company, so I pulled out a nice chair if someone wants to watch.” Her gaze locked onto Alastor, memories of their conversations about wanting to witness the passionate connection between him and Lucifer swirling in the air.

Alastor brushed past Lucifer before he could speak with a knowing smile, unbuttoning his tailcoat and flaring it behind him as he sat in the plush armchair. A lazy, lust-filled smile spread across his face, ready to indulge in the exquisite scene unfolding before him.

"Go ahead, my dear. She is all yours...for now." Once permission was granted, it was as if a dam had broken. Lucifer approached, his heart racing as he followed the sultry path the woman had taken to her bed. Standing before her, he gazed down at her alluring, half-naked form, the soft glow of candlelight accentuating every curve.

She looked up at him, her eyes ablaze with a fire rivaling the depths of hell. Slowly, Lucifer reached for the boa that draped around her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her skin as he pulled it into his hands, feeling the luxurious fabric slip through his fingers.

"Look at me. Don’t stop looking into my eyes. Right now, you are mine, all mine, so just give in to me." She nodded, entranced by his words, surrendering as he guided her gently down onto the plush bed.

“Hmmm, do be gentle with her, Lucifer. I plan to ravish you both the moment you have your fill.” The playful threat hung in the air, a compelling promise that sent shivers down their spines. Both panting softly, they exchanged heated glances. Lucifer preferred his first time with someone to be slow, savoring each moment.

With a delicate touch, he tied her hands gently with her boa, his fingers gliding down her body, eliciting soft trembles and shudders that only intensified the growing desire within him. Kneeling between her legs, he made sure Alastor could see every intimate moment unfolding.

Lucifer lifted her left leg, placed it on his shoulder, and kissed his way up her inner thigh, taking his time to savor her. Each kiss drew forth beautiful moans. Her lips parted slightly, releasing warm, misty breaths that hung in the air like an intoxicating perfume. Once he finished with the left leg, he mirrored his attentions on the right, each kiss a sweet torment.

With her hands bound, she couldn't tangle her fingers in his hair or grip his arms; she was entirely at his mercy. As he playfully nipped at her ankle, a small drop of blood pooled, and he licked it away, sending a thrill of sensation coursing through her, making her moan once more.

Alastor watched with a smirk, enjoying the sight of her unraveling, whether from the thrill of being watched or the raw power of Lucifer. He relished the pleasure blooming on both their faces.

Lucifer pulled back slightly, leaving her to whine in frustration. He teased, removing his tailcoat and tossing it aside with a flourish. Each pop elicited soft whimpers from her as he unbuttoned his bow tie and vest. “Y/N, you follow orders so well. No wonder Alastor likes you so much; he always loves to give commands.” 

As the last button of his dress shirt came undone, he let himself fall gently atop her, supporting himself with his forearms beside her head. “So beautiful, blissed out, and I haven’t touched you yet. It’s true, you know, as Al said… I can change how big and thick it is on a whim, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.” Her eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping her lips as his words ignited her imagination. 

“Hmmm, how would you like it to be that deep inside you? Rearranging your very insides?” He kissed her neck as he spoke, feeling her breath quicken beneath him. The contrast of his dirty words and sweet actions sent her spiraling into a realm of ecstasy she had never known.

“I think she would like that, Luci. She hasn’t even experienced my appendages yet; I’m sure that will prepare her nicely.” Alastor’s smirk was palpable as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, the air thickening with anticipation.

Lucifer sat back on his haunches, eradicating his shirt, revealing his porcelain muscles glistening in the dim light. His soft, yellowed face reflected how utterly captivated he was by her. He undid his pants, kicking them off to reveal his desire, hidden only by a thin layer of fabric.

“Mhm, Lucifer, please... I want it...” Her voice was a sultry whisper, a plea that sent a rush through both men. She had only begged for a handful of guests, but Lucifer's power left her mind reeling, imagining how it would feel to have both of them at once.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, beautiful, and you already want my length inside you. How pitiful. Should I give it to you, Dolly?” He slid the zipper of her bodysuit down her back, knowing they both craved this connection, the thrilling anticipation of feeling one another before being taken by Alastor.

"Yes, please, please take me, then Ali, and you can play with me too..." Her voice was like music to both men's ears as the sentence caused both to moan deeply.

Alastor had eradicated his shirt, his dress pants opened, and his girthy cock out on display. Gentle, soft strokes from his hand as he continued to observe.

Lucifer had the bodysuit off and on the floor, Y/N's bare, beautiful body before him. He kissed her all over, avoiding the one place she needed him most. Letting a hot puff of air cover her sopping-wet pussy.

Finally, Lucifer allowed a hand to grace her folds and gather the slick that was pouring from her entrance. Rubbing her clit gently but at a firm pace, he watched her back arch, and her face contort in pleasure.

"Good girl, such a good girl, let go for me...need you nice and wet for me to fuck you." She babbled and nodded her high climbing. He added his other hand and worked her through not one but two orgasms with his hands alone.

To the side, Alastor moaned deeply at the sight. He couldn't lie. Lucifer was not just good with his forked tongue, but his hands, that of a creator could do magic all on their own. As he watched the slick cover Lucifer's thighs, he struggled to contain himself from going over there and taking them both.

Lucifer pulled away as your recent orgasm washed over you. He loved how your eyes rolled back and your tongue lulled gently out of your mouth. He released his length from his boxers, and he wasn't lying about his changing length.

Before both of your eyes, he had gotten longer and wider as he lined up at your dripping wet hole. Slowly, he entered and, with no patience to wait, bottomed out in you in one thrust.

Your beautiful scream turned moan had both demonic men alter to their demon forms as they listened to your pleas. Lucifer led your legs to his shoulders. As you hooked them behind his ears, he began at a brutal pace.

You felt him hit places that no other patron had hit before. Your eyes were lost in the back of your head as you babbled and begged for more.

The squelching sounds in the room only grew more rampant as Lucifer climbed to his peak. His words of praise and affirmation only spurred you both on.

Alastor growled demonically beside you two as he watched you both become undone. His possessive nature climbed to its rightful place as you both screamed in ecstasy.

Lucifer gently pulled out as soon as you were filled to the brim with his golden seed. He admired how beautifully he leaked out of you. Holding your legs up where they were around him just moments before, he looked at his partner and nodded him over.

"Come look at how pretty gold looks in her..." Alastor hummed; as he stood, his length was fully erect, and he slid off his pants. Climbing in the bed behind his partner, he leaned over his shoulder to look at your cunt.

"Hmmm, truly beautiful Y/N, my sweet boy made you so dirty. Lucifer, flip her around and clean her up, will you." Lucifer nodded and helped get you on your hands and knees. As he lay between your legs, he guided you down on his face and began to devour you.

Once your mouth opened to moan at the overstimulation, Alastor had his cock buried in your throat. He held your hair tight, forcing you to look up at him through your teary eyelashes.

"mhm, look at you, Y/N, you look so beautiful fucked out like this, with Lucifer's pretty face buried in you. Even more beautiful with my cock down your throat" Alastor gripped you tighter as his horns grew larger, and some black slimy tendrils appeared around him.

Your eyes widened as he caressed your face, and the moan on your pussy alerted you that he was also caressing Lucifer.

"Mhm, both of you will be good for me now, and I will give you a treat," Lucifer and you moan, nodding softly as Alastor's tendrils explore your bodies. The more curious of the black slime teasing your ass and gripping around Lucifer's hardening cock.

Alastor guided your head on his cock roughly, gaining more and more speed as he chased his high. The force of his thrust down your throat causes you to rub yourself on Lucifer's face more, making a moaning mess out of both of you.

As climax fast approached for Alastor, he stilled you. He let his cock sit deep in your mouth, a sinister smile painted on his face.

"Bite down, and I will kill you, understand," Before you had time to react to Alastors words, a cold, slimy tendril was entering your ass. Your eyes widened as more tears filled them from the way you were expanded. Once you were full, Alastor began to pump in you again.

Lucifer was gasping and crying under you; Alastor not only had a tendril stroking his cock tightly to mimic your sweet pussy, but he had two holding his legs up and apart so another one could enter him as well.

You were overstimulated and covered in sweat and sex. You had never felt so full and desired. As Alstor used your face and fucked Lucifer into eating you harder, it all became too much for you three.

Before long, three long moans exited you all, static popped, music played, and screams were heard. Each of your complete demon forms taking precedence from the shattering orgasms that filled you all.

Lucifer's cock throbbing from spilling two loads, had managed to cum down your whole back and ass. You covered Lucifer's face in your juices as overstimulation sent you over the edge. Alastor had you covered in his seed from your head to your chin, using his clawed hands to gather some and shove it in your mouth.

Once the appendages melted away, you felt a rush of exhaustion consume you as the suffocating boa constraint was removed. You were laid gently between Lucifer and Alastor, two figures who felt familiar and exhilaratingly dangerous. 

Lucifer's warm and gentle hands tangled in your hair, combing through the tousled mess that echoed the wild night you had shared. His touch was soothing, starkly contrasting to Alastor's, whose fingers danced dangerously across your hip, tracing intricate patterns that sent shivers through your body.

As dawn's first light crept into the room, casting a soft glow over the remnants of your night together, you began to pack your belongings. The once vibrant space now felt barren, stripped of its life in anticipation of the next woman who might step into your place as Mimzy's best voice. Yet, as you folded clothes and gathered trinkets, you realized your actual place was not on a stage basking in the spotlight. No, your heart sang harmoniously with these two men, creating a more intimate and profound melody.

"Come on, you two," Alastor urged cooly, a grin spreading across his face. "We don’t have all day! The sooner we return to the hotel, the sooner we can go for round two." 

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with mischief at Alastor's teasing words. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he led you toward your new beginning, an uncharted territory filled with promise and passion, where the music of your souls could intertwine once more.

[jadegretz]

Jessica Rabbit: Legendary Beauty of the Reel World by Jade Gretz

Title: The Scarlet Whisper

The rain drizzled down in the dark alleys of Los Angeles, the city’s neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement, casting eerie glows in all directions. It was a night that seemed to promise trouble. The kind of night where shadows danced a little too long, where the wind carried whispers of secrets long buried, and where danger lurked in every corner.

Jessica Rabbit knew this all too well. Wrapped in a long, scarlet trench coat that flared at her ankles, she moved with a grace that belied the sinister weight in the air. Her heels clicked against the pavement, the sound echoing through the deserted street as she approached the entrance of a dimly lit speakeasy, “The Velvet Glove.” The sign flickered, struggling against the rain like a dying star.

The speakeasy was a place where everyone who was anyone came to lose themselves. A smoky haze filled the room as she stepped inside, her presence commanding the attention of every pair of eyes. The men stared with a mixture of admiration and fear, while the women glanced her way with jealousy masked as indifference. Jessica was no stranger to the gaze of strangers, but tonight, her mind was elsewhere.

She was here on business.

A low hum of jazz filled the room, played by a band in the corner, their faces hidden behind the shadows. The music seeped into her bones as she made her way to the bar. “Scotch, neat,” she ordered, her voice smooth, yet edged with an urgency she couldn’t entirely suppress.

The bartender nodded, his hands moving swiftly to pour her drink. Jessica’s eyes scanned the room, searching for the man who had sent her a cryptic message earlier that evening. A message scrawled in a hurried hand, asking for her help. She didn’t often get involved in murder cases—at least, not anymore—but there was something about this one that had her instincts on high alert.

The note had read: Meet me at The Velvet Glove. Midnight. I’m in over my head. This is bigger than you can imagine. It was signed with only a single letter: K.

Her thoughts were in …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[lirarey]

Slow jazz music. Quiet conversations. There seemed to be a scent of mysticism and mystery all around. This was a very unusual setting for Newt. First Hogwarts, then travels to habitats of the most diverse creatures couldn’t compare to this bar. However, it was worth giving credit: of their entire unimaginable company, only Queenie felt relatively free and relaxed. Like a bird, she fluttered past the visitors, attracting the attention of the men. Jacob didn’t stay away either: he went to the bar counter with the look of the most magical wizard he was capable of. Only he and Tina awkwardly hesitated at the very entrance.

"We are attracting too much unwanted attention," the girl whispered, without turning to him.

"What do you suggest?" the man asked quietly, nervously adjusting his bow tie.

Their gazes turned to the center of the room. Several couples were spinning in a slow dance. Newt, accustomed to the habits of his charges, couldn't help but notice that each of them emanated a different atmosphere. One seemed too energetic and bright against the background of her tall but timid companion. The other, on the contrary, was modest, almost constrained in her movements, trembling in the arms of the strong but soft one. Newt wished that he could understand people as easily at a half-word as those present. It seemed that Tina was thinking the same thing, since Newt noticed the slight tremor of her shoulders. It was difficult to imagine how the eternally serious MACUSA worker felt here.

"How about a dance?"

Newt glanced at the girl briefly. She looked even more stunning in that beautiful dress, and Newt felt awkward in comparison. He had never danced properly in his entire life.

"I don't..." Newt started to say, but Tina had already led him towards the dancers.

He was so confused that he didn’t have time to notice how the girl herself placed his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders. Now he could see her even better. Neatly styled hair that he just wanted to touch. Serious expressive eyes, reminiscent of the eyes of a salamander. And these thin, graceful shoulders... And how often her heart beats. It's strange, but his heart beats just as fast. What's wrong with him?

"Just pretend to dance!"

But Newt suddenly realized that he didn't want to pretend. No, he really wanted to go on a date with her, to see her happy smile... But now was not the time or the place. Instead, he pulled the girl closer to him, wrapping his arms around her waist in a possessive way that surprised even him. It felt like there was some kind of unbreakable bond between them after escaping the Ministry. And he wouldn't let that feeling go for anything.

"Newt," Tina faltered, looking at him in surprise.

"What?"

"If I were looking at us from the outside, I would seriously believe that you are in love with me," she continued, not taking her eyes off him.

"Maybe I'm good at pretending."

"But everything you do is amazingly sincere. Are you really...?"

"The bartender is looking at us with suspicion," Newt whispered, still holding her. "We better not tell yet."

"Yes... Yes, that's a good idea."

But why did his touch feel so good?

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Hi I wanna know how would the tfa bots elite guard and cons react to meeting a female bot who is like Barbie who came to life by an allspark fragment and developing a crush on her

-Optimus feels ashamed of his crush because he doesn't think he's worth her. She's just so... so perfect. Beautiful, kind, funny, intelligent. She's got it all and Optimus doesn't. He'll probably try to avoid her for some time after realizing how he feels about her.

-If Optimus feels ashamed then Ratchet feels embarrassed. He's an old mech, past his best years and he's not supposed to go after some young, pretty bot that's just started figuring out life. Not to mention that he's long since given up on having a love life. Like Optimus he'll probably avoid her if possible in an attempt to smother these feelings.

-Despite his claims, Bumblebee don't have a lot of experience with lady-bots. You know what, scratch that. He's got ZERO experience. That doesn't mean he'll dive right in and do his best to impress her. Super nervous about making a fool out of himself but he masks this with false confidence. Starts stumbling over his words whenever she smiles at him though.

-Bulkhead in love is just so wholesome. He realizes he's got a crush on her when he finds himself painting nothing but portraits of her. Tries to woo her the old fashioned way, with flowers and poems about how pretty her optics are. Will ask her to model for his paintings as an excuse to spend time with her.

-For Prowl, him having a crush is divided in two parts. First, he ignores it. Ignores her. Tries to be smooth about how he leaves when she shows up but he's just desperately trying to avoid her so he won't fall deeper in love. But he can't focus on anything, all his thoughts keeps drifting back to her so eventually he accepts it. Now he's determined to woo her though he feels intimidated by how amazing she is. How is he supposed to prove himself?

-It's been centuries since Ultra Magnus last had a crush but he just can't help it with this bot. She's everything he looks for in a conjux. Graceful, gentle, determined, intelligent, kind. She would make a perfect First Conjux (cybertronian version of First Lady). Now, he's not been in the dating game since he was a new frame but he's still confident that he can muster up the old charm.

-Fuuuuuck, Sentinel is so damn annoying about his crush. He flirts, says a million different pick up lines that makes everyone else cringe yet he fails to notice how hard he's failing. In his mind, a perfect mech like him deserves nothing less than a perfect bot like her. Thinks she's got a crush on him just because he can't imagine otherwise. Tries to impress her all the time.

-Jazz, just like Sentinel, flirts, but he's so much better at it. At first the flirting is mostly playful, trying to test the waters and see if she's interested, and once he's more confident then he'll lay it on real thick. Loves coming up with improvised love songs on the spot, singing about her many amazing qualities.

-The jettwins, Jetfire and Jetstorm, are like two puppies the way they follow her around, desperate for any scrap of attention. Like, they are down BAD. They hang onto her every word and think she's the most incredible bot in the world. Desperately try to impress her.

-Every lord needs a lady and that includes warlords so of course Megatron is determined to make her his. While she's a little too kind for the position as Lady of the decepticons he doesn't mind it. Her intelligence and charm more than makes up for it. Super suave with his flirting.

-Starscream tries so badly to impress her, be it with his intelligence, power or by flying. He tries to to act confident and suave with her but the moment she does anything he feels completely lost because she does everything with such ease. She's naturally graceful, doesn't even have to try to make people like her and that's everything Starscream wishes he had.

-She's got Blitzwing's personalities rapid switching because they all want to spend time/look at her. Hothead's usual anger and bravado turns into a blustering mess around her and all he can say are simple sentences like "You're pretty" or "I want to hold your hand so badly". Gets so flustered by his admissions that he willingly switches out. Icy is better, he is calmer about his crush and tries to woo her by being a gentleman. Too bad Random suddenly switches in and ruins it by saying that he wants to eat her so they can be together forever. Awkward.

-Look, Lugnut already got a conjux that he loves and adores so he feels super guilty about his crush. Whenever he sees this bot he will shout at them to stay away, calling her a temptress. Secretly though he's wondering if Strika would like to meet her. He's pretty confident that she'd like this bot and she's always been up for a third.

-Shockwave is torn between acting professional and ogling her like an idiot. She's perfect in every way, sense and form and he'd be an idiot to just ignore her. But because she's so perfect he finds himself so taken off guard that he doesn't know how to react.

-Yeah, Blackarachnia feels terrible. She's got a crush on her bot at the same time she's super jealous. This bot is beautiful and highly sought after by everyone and she feels so lacking in comparison to them. Might try to flirt but honestly don't think it will go anywhere, even if they for some reason were interested. Blackarachnia simply couldn't bear constandly comparing herself to this perfect bot.

[lynetianya]

Harmony in Jeonju [ Karina X Reader ]

Karina and Y/N embark on a charming date. Their day unfolds as they explore traditional shops, don exquisite Hanboks, and receive heartfelt compliments from locals.

GENRE : Fluff

TYPE : One Shot

In the bustling heart of Seoul, amidst the neon-lit streets and the ever-present hum of city life, there existed a love story that transcended boundaries. Karina, a renowned Korean idol known for her captivating performances and charismatic stage presence, was the embodiment of a whirlwind of energy. Her life was a constant whirlwind of rehearsals, interviews, and fan events. Her boyfriend, Y/N, was the calm refuge in her storm, the one who kept her grounded in the midst of her chaotic fame.

Karina and Y/N's love story had been a source of fascination for the public and media alike. They had met in the most unexpected of ways, and their connection had grown stronger with each passing day. Karina's career demanded a hyperactive lifestyle, but when she was with Y/N, she found solace in his tranquility.

One sunny afternoon in Seoul, Karina had a rare day off from her busy schedule, and she was determined to make the most of it. She had been looking forward to spending quality time with Y/N, away from the flashing cameras and screaming fans. She had meticulously planned their day together, wanting to give Y/N a glimpse of her world and, at the same time, escape from it.

As they strolled through the streets of Myeongdong, Karina couldn't help but notice how her presence attracted attention. Fans recognized her, asked for autographs, and snapped pictures. Karina handled it all with grace and a bright smile, but she couldn't wait to find a quieter spot with Y/N.

"Let's go to that cafe I found last week," Karina suggested, her voice filled with excitement.

Y/N nodded, his calm demeanor unwavering. He was used to being in the background, letting Karina shine in the spotlight. Her fame never intimidated him, and he cherished the moments when they could just be themselves.

The cafe was a hidden gem tucked away from the bustling streets. As they entered, a wave of tranquility washed over them. Soft jazz music played in the background, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Karina and Y/N found a cozy corner table, away from prying eyes.

As they sipped their coffee and shared a piece of blueberry cheesecake, Karina couldn't stop herself from gushing about her latest music video shoot. She described the elaborate choreography, the stunning costumes, and the adrenaline rush of performing in front of thousands of fans.

Y/N listened attentively, his eyes fixed on her as if she were the only star in the world. "You were amazing Jimin," he said with a warm smile. "I'm so proud of everything you've achieved."

Karina's heart swelled with love for Y/N. She knew that he was the reason she could handle the whirlwind of her career with grace and humility. He was her rock, her constant source of support.

After their coffee, they decided to explore Jeonju, known for its traditional Korean art and culture. Karina was eager to share this side of place with Y/N, and he was more than willing to embrace the experience. They visited antique shops, admired intricate paintings, and even tried their hand at traditional calligraphy.

As they wandered through the charming streets of Jeonju, they stumbled upon a traditional Hanbok shop. The vibrant colors and elegant designs of the Hanboks displayed in the window immediately caught Karina's eye, and she couldn't resist pulling Y/N inside.

Inside the shop, they were greeted by a friendly shopkeeper who showed them a variety of Hanboks. Karina's eyes sparkled with excitement as she carefully selected a beautiful, flowing Hanbok in shades of deep red and gold. Y/N chose a more understated but equally handsome Hanbok in muted blue and silver.

Once they had their Hanboks on, they couldn't help but feel transformed. Karina's Hanbok accentuated her grace and beauty, and Y/N looked dashing in his traditional attire. As they admired themselves in the mirror, the shopkeeper couldn't contain her admiration.

"You two make such a lovely couple," the shopkeeper said with a warm smile. "You look like a perfect husband and wife."

Karina blushed at the unexpected compliment, and Y/N couldn't help but chuckle. "Thank you," he replied, feeling a sense of pride standing beside Karina.

The shopkeeper insisted on taking a picture of them in their Hanboks, and she even helped them with traditional accessories to complete their look. Karina's cheeks remained flushed with happiness as they posed for the camera, their smiles radiating the joy of the moment.

After leaving the Hanbok shop, Karina and Y/N continued their exploration of Insadong, hand in hand. The traditional attire made them feel like they had stepped back in time, and they embraced the rich cultural experience. They shared a meal at a traditional Korean restaurant, where they enjoyed a variety of delicious dishes.

As the day in Insadong drew to a close, they made their way to a peaceful park nestled between ancient buildings. Under the soft glow of lanterns, they sat on a bench, the vibrant colors of their Hanboks contrasting with the serene surroundings.

"This has been such a wonderful day," Karina whispered, her eyes filled with gratitude.

Y/N wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "I'm so glad we could experience this together, Karina. It's moments like these that make our love even more special."

As they sat there, surrounded by the beauty of Jeonju and the echoes of traditional culture, Karina and Y/N shared a sweet kiss, sealing the memory of their day in Hanboks. In that moment, they felt like a harmonious blend of tradition and modernity, a couple whose love transcended time and place.

Amidst the serene beauty of Jeonju, Y/N and Karina found a sense of peace that was rare in their hectic lives. As they watched the sunset from a quiet park, Karina leaned against Y/N, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Thank you for being my anchor, Y/N," Karina whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

Y/N gently kissed her forehead. "I'll always be here for you, Karina. No matter how crazy life gets, you can count on me."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city of Jeonju. Karina and Y/N shared a silent moment, their hearts entwined in a love that defied the chaos of fame and the calm of ordinary life.

As they walked hand in hand through the streets of Jeonju, the city lights shimmering around them, Karina couldn't help but smile. She knew that their love story was extraordinary, a beautiful harmony in the midst of the vibrant chaos of their lives. In the bustling heart of Jeonju, Karina and Y/N's love was a melody that would play on forever.

END

My Masterlist

[trophycannibal]

a wip sunday snippet in which grace should consider being the change she wants to see in the world (kissing fred):

Her eyes dropped to Freddie’s lips for the fifth time in as many minutes. Freddie, like always, looked so kissable. Her palpable excitement was like a rope pulling her in and Grace couldn't help wishing to reach the end. She had fantasized about it often over the years.

The soft, dim light of the fairy lights glowed on their skin, setting everything in a quieter, more intimate manner, as they danced around the apartment to a variety playlist – playing everything from funk to metal to pop and more. Raindrops splattered outside filling the spaces around the music and their breaths with ambient sound. The smell of potstickers and fried rice still permeated the apartment from their dinner. White takeout boxes sat on the counters, some open, others closed, but their contents otherwise forgotten for now. An instrumental jazz-funk song came on and time slowed when Freddie looked into Grace’s eyes. Her dark brown eyes looked even darker in the dim light, but they were still just as beautiful as ever, and Grace could see them soften, a hesitancy grow in them and then dissolve. Somehow the mood finally struck right and Freddie’s bravery stuck. Lifting one hand up, she caressed Grace’s cheek, sending tingles throughout her body from the gentle, slow contact. Then like a wish whispered quietly in the waning moments of sunlight, Freddie leaned down and captured Grace’s lips with her own, taking a leap of faith that sent both of their hearts racing.

It was dumb. Neither of them were right. But it became about the principle of the matter. The sooner Freddie admitted that Almond Joy should be renamed to something that emphasized the coconut in the treat, the sooner they could get back to planning their trip to see Hadestown. But no. Freddie kept insisting they should be called Almond Blues because of the blue packaging and there not being enough almonds, which “gives you the almond blues.” It was ridiculous. But there was fire in Freddie’s animated eyes and probably Grace’s too. Neither of them were budging on this highly unimportant matter. Arms swung through the air as they each plead their cases again. Voices rising as over trodden points were reiterated, interrupting the other as they thought of new counterpoints, their passions as bright as the sun beaming in through the window. And then it came to a standstill. Freddie’s lips were pressed hard against Grace’s, redirecting the flow of her passion, pouring it directly into Grace, who burned hot from desire.

Adrenaline from the show had worn off and the chill atmosphere of the after-show ritual had set in. Grace was only half-listening as Kaz talked about his ideas for his D&D character from the other side of the booth. Brian seemed all too aware that he had been leaning in and tried to subtly reposition himself further away despite the not-so-subtle blush he sported on his face. Sitting across from each other, they were like 2 sides of the same coin, desperately in love with the friend sitting next to them. Grace put her hands on the cherry table directly into one of the wet spots created from the condensation from her drinks and immediately put them back down, rubbing the wetness off onto her pants. She leaned into Freddie, who remained as still as a statue beside her. A beautiful, wonderful statue that she would never tire of admiring. The vibrations of Freddie’s vocal chords reverberated through her as she made suggestions to Kaz. Then she turned her gaze down to Grace, who felt rather snug against her arm. The fabric of her jacket was like a comforting memory against her skin. Freddie offered to buy her another beer and Grace straightened in the torn red leather seats. Almost as if it was habitual, Freddie gave Grace a quick peck and then set about procuring another beer.

Grace had thought of a thousand different situations where Freddie kissed her. This time was no different. She wanted Freddie to finally get the hint and do it.