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isuckatwritingsobenice · 4 months

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Infernal Shadows 02

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni)

A/N: I’m so glad part one did well! I really liked this idea and hoped other people would too. As always comment if you want to be tagged and I will tag you in the next post! I wanted this to be three parts, but depending on how much I can fit in this chapter and the next one, I’ll see if I need to make four parts. The song at the beginning of this chapter is meant to be played when the line “ The music picked up” Is read. Skip to 5:35 for it to play smoothly, or as smoothly as possible.

Word count: 3.k or something over that idk I got too lazy to count :(

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part three.

Within, the grand foyer unveiled itself, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail in stark contrast against a black and white color scheme. Crystal chandeliers, dangling from lofty black ceilings, cast their brilliance upon white walls adorned with ornate mirrors. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich black and white fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, establishing cozy settings for guests to assemble and engage in enriching conversations. Each room murmured tales of a past era – intricately patterned black and white wallpaper, frames gilded in black to showcase classical art, and a subtle aroma of aged wood and lavender lingering in the air, harmonizing with the monochromatic elegance. The guests walking in all marveled at the details of the mansion.

Charlotte and Vagatha both stepped in, Charlotte in awe of the detailing. A shadow figure bent down slightly to offer her a drink, to which she happily took.

“Vaggie this is all so beautiful. I hope I can make a good impression.” Charlotte said, turning to her partner to ease her nerves. Vagatha just smiled, a hand on her shoulder lovingly.

“You’re gonna do great babe, besides, there’s so many people here, if one likes it I’m sure other people will get on board too.” Vagatha said.

“Or they can laugh at you if one person points out how ridiculous it is.” Husk said, chugging his drink before placing it back on the servers tray.

“Thanks for the kind words Husk.” Vagatha said sarcastically. He just shrugged, looking towards the bar area which was practically calling him over.

Upstairs in your room, you stared at yourself in the mirror as your shadows made the finishing touches on your outfit. Draped in a long, elegant black gown that gracefully embraced your commanding figure, the fabric cascaded like shadows. Delicate chain motifs intertwine with the dress, creating an alluring dance of darkness. A chain belt cinches your waist, a subtle nod to your captivating ability to ensnare and command over your shadows. Completing the regalia, silver chain cuffs adorn your wrists, reflecting both power and refinement.

“Madame, the guests are all in the lobby awaiting your arrival.” One of the shadows said. You nodded, stepping down from your showcase, winking to yourself in the mirror before chuckling to yourself. A shadow approaches you, bowing in respect before holding out a tray with your drink, a contrast to your dark colors. You take the glass in your hand, another shadow lightly putting a thermometer in your drink so it’s the perfect temperature for you, fifteen point five degrees Celsius. The liquid is a light yellow-ish green, Lafite-Rothschild, an expensive French wine you tried in 1906 when you were alive. Lifting it to your lips, you take a long sip and sigh, the spicy and earth notes, mixed with a hint of tobacco and red Barrie’s dance on your tongue like a performance of Gavotte. You pull back with a sigh, setting the glass down, a perfect Ridel Vinum Bordeaux, personally crafted for you as the bottom of the glass is a Smokey black, fading into clear glass towards the top.

“Let’s get this Gala started shall we~?”

In the lobby, guests were socializing amongst themselves. Velvet, Vox and Valentino had split for a short while. After the incident outside, the two overlords wouldn’t stop tantalizing the picture box about his fit of frustration dealing with the Radio Demon. From the lobby, there were large crystal doors revealing the back exterior of the house. The greenery was just perfect, with cobblestone flooring revealing another bloody fountain. Vox stood with his drink, speaking to some sinner he couldn’t remember the name of, about how well his business was going.

“You ever get,” Vox asked, eyeing one of the shadows who stood in a corner, white eyes soulless as they held out drinks to guests. “Creeped out by those, things?” Vox asked, turning back to the sinner. He just scoffed.

“Please, they’re always around and as far as I know, harmless.” The sinner said. At that, a shadow appeared between the two, taking their empty glasses and replacing it with new, full ones. Vox tried his hardest not to seem alarmed at this, and took the glass silently, sipping his drink slowly as it floated away. It was then he took in the shadows appearance. They all looked the same. Tall figures, Smokey outlines, but no feel or hands, just a faded end to their limbs. Their eyes were white and soulless, almost as it they were vacant, a shell of what they used to be. There were no facial features, just two white circles and a thin white line for their mouth. Each one however, had a light Smokey chain around their chest, wrapped in the shape of an X.

“What are the chains for then? They’re pretty much smoke, what do they need chains forever?” Vox asked. The associate laughed, but before he could answer, another overlord stepped in.

“They have chains because they’re claimed souls.” Fredrick Von Eldritch says, his sister Bethesda in toe. The two grin, a shadow following behind them with a tray of their drinks. “If you get invited to the gala long enough, you get a personal one.” He said with a wink, gesturing to the shadow behind the two.

“They’re quite cute once you get used to them.” Bethesda said with a smile, cooing at the shadow lightly. Yet, it still remained expressionless.

“Actually, now that you say that.” The sinner says, looking around for a moment. “It’s been awfully quiet with a laugh track being played.” He says, referring to Alastor. Vox just rolls his eyes.

“Who gives a shit about where that old timey freak is?” Vox asks. Fredrick and Bethesda snicker to each other, catching Vox’s attention.

“Probably hunting for his dear Madame.” Bethesda said dramatically, laying her head on her brothers shoulder and batting her lashes playfully. Fredrick and the sinner laughed at his sisters antics, but Vox grew serious.

“What does that mean? He knows her?” Vox asked, to which Fredrick scoffed, finishing his drink before reaching for another off the shadows server tray.

“Of course he does. She died before him, and they’re the closest overlords in time period. Well, aside from Zestial and her.” Fredrick explained. Vox didn’t say anything else, instead looking to the red ‘moon’ of hell, before glancing at the blood fountain. He had heard rumors about being at the Madame’s table, and how she gave the inside to all her projects and plans before the next extermination. Apparently, this year was supposed to be ‘different’ as people had been talking.

“When does this dinner start anyway? We’ve been standing out here for two hours.” Vox said annoyed.

“In a few minutes, Madame will make her grand entrance. She will socialize with the guests as it is polite to have one on one time with them. Then she will spend the rest of the time while the orchestra gets together deciding on contenders to sit at her table.” A shadow walking by said, stopping to stare at Vox. “Madame is always watching.” It then said, turning to serve other guests. Vox said nothing, instead turning on his heel and making his way inside the mansion. How could someone feel suffocated outside? Fredrick and Bethesda said nothing, watching him go, but sharing a glance between each other before making their leave too, leaving the sinner all by his lonesome.

Inside, Charlotte and Vagatha conversed about how she could get people behind her project.

“Maybe if I sing-“

“Please no. These people are too…” Vagatha said, glancing around the room. Everyone seemed too, fake. Vagatha knew Charlotte being herself around these people would do absolutely no good to the hotel, and though she hated telling Charlotte these things, she knew her kindness would be frowned upon, and made fun of. “Serious for that kind of thing.” Vagatha finished, taking a sip of her champagne. She settled for champagne in a flute while Charlotte drank water, wanting to hydrate herself in hopes to calm her nerves.

“I heard that Madame might be making her entrance soon.” Charlotte said nervously, looking around. She half expected her parents to show up, but knew how they rarely liked getting involved in overlord affairs. She’d be surprised if they showed up.

“Then when she does you can try to pitch your idea to her.” Vagatha said supportively. Charlotte just smiled and nodded, hoping someone would listen to her. She had tried practicing on two sinners moments ago, to which they both laughed and called her delusional. The defeat was beginning to get to her, and she hadn’t even started yet.

With Velvet, she began studying the interior of the old-styled mansion. She was trying her hardest to not be too rude about it, but of course she had her comments, but ultimately kept them to herself. Cramoisie, your fashion line, was the top fashion brand in hell, everyone wanted a piece of it. Velvet had never had an article for herself, despite trying her hardest to get something, anything, even a sample. But people feigned for it like drugs. Velvets line was successful sure, but with your validation and guidance, she could become perfection, the same way you were. Everyone in hell looked up to you, shit, you had even gotten Lilith’s praise as she was photographed wearing a custom piece you designed for her. Your work was art in its purist form, and Velvet kept a close eye on her other colleagues to make sure they didn’t fuck your chance up. Velvet had her assistant hold samples and sketches of designs Velvet had been working on, wanting to show you her best work in hopes of winning you over. She could brag about having you support her line, and her fans would die of excitement. Maybe, she could get you to design her a custom piece, or Velvet could design one for you. The possibilities were limitless, if you agreed to meet with her of course. But that was all the more reason why she needed to make sure she had a seat at your table tonight. She needed to get close to you.

“Are you fucking high?” Velvet whispered to Valentino, who just chuckled softly at her.

“What’s the matter hermosa? Just enjoy the Gala, we’re here to have fun right?” He asked with a giggle. Velvet huffed, deciding to find Vox, hoping he could straighten Valentino out. Valentino would not fuck up her chance tonight.

Near the large staircase in the middle of the room, Alastor stood, glass of whiskey in his clawed hands. He smiles, humming to himself while quietly back up into a wall, careful to scan the room quickly before he disappears into the shadows. Then, moments later, appears in a room separate from the gala. It’s a study, your study. Alastor takes a step forward and quickly the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, casting larger, more dramatic silhouettes that seemed to dance on the walls. The interplay of darkness and light only heightened the mysterious allure of the study. In the midst of this chiaroscuro ambiance, Alastor found himself surrounded by an atmosphere that mirrored the complex nature of the figure depicted in the portrait hanging above the fireplace, which was in the far back wall of the study. It was the only light source in the room. Black wooden shelves lined against the tall walls, showcasing famous pieces of literature, all hand picked and to your liking. The fire place, crafted with dark marble, commanded his attention. Above the mantel, a striking portrait of Madame hung, capturing his focus, like a trance. The image portrayed a being universally admired, yet equally feared; someone who elicited both admiration and intimidation all at once, you.

“Hm, hiding now are we?” Alastor asks with a grin, tutting lightly. “That’s not very proper of you Madame~” He says, calling out to you. Seconds later, a dark shadow appears in the corner of the room, taking up the entire corner, before a shadowy figure steps out. Similar to the servant’s out in the lobby, Alastor’s eye twitch’s slightly.

“Oh don’t be so pissy. You know no one gets to see me before my entrance.” You say, the shadow expressionless, but Alastor can hear your tone through the figure, taunting him. He sighs, setting his staff on a slant along his foot.

“And here I thought I could connect with an old friend.” Alastor said with a chuckle, staring down the shadowy figure, hoping his gaze would ease you to show yourself to him. But alas, stuck in your ways, you didn’t show yourself, instead laughing, though the figure did not open its mouth, making your ‘shadow a-presence’ all the more eerie.

“If you really want to speak with me it can wait until my entrance. I should be done soon.” You say, before Alastor just smiles, tossing his staff from hand to hand.

“Well if you’re really going to make me wait, mind you speed the process up a bit? You know it doesn’t take much to make you look breath-taking.” Alastor compliments, but earns a scoff from you.

“Oh please, don’t start with me ‘Radio Demon.’” You mock, before the shadow figure begins to step back.

“Wait, a moment before you go.” Alastor says, standing his staff on the floor. The shadow figure stops, before you speak again.

“Make it quick. You know how much energy it takes to keep this up.” You say.

“So, about this hotel business. I know she’s planning to talk to you about it.”

“Yes the idea you tell me so much about.” You say sarcastically. Alastor had told you bits and pieces about the princess’s project, but didn’t tell you what it was for exactly, leaving you to wonder how important it really was if even he wouldn’t speak on it.

“Well you know how much I crave entertainment. Is it possible to make a request for the seating arraignment tonight?” Alastor asks. You laugh, figure still unmoving.

“Humorous to think you even have a seat. You’ve been gone for what? Seven years?” You say with a scoff.

“You’ve been gone decades my dear, you didn’t even show up to your last twenty gala’s, having your pity shadows do it for you. I doubt you should be speaking on the matter.”

At that, you chuckle to yourself before the shadow begins to back into the corner, black smoke enveloping the corner like a cloud. “I presume you would be correct. Well, I’m off now. Don’t sneak into my quarters again.” You say finally before disappearing. Alastor just grins, stepping into his own shadow, joining the other guests.

The shadows had slowly but, eventually ushered the guests into the lobby, everyone gathering around the staircase as the shadows lined up against the railings, the orchestra playing the music you had specifically requested. You were about to make your grand entrance, something you hadn’t done in centuries. Everyone stood around, awaiting your arrival, the shadows momentarily disappearing to give the guests more space to crowd around. Candles lit along the walls, as well as floating lights appearing going up the staircase. There, the shadows took their place, two on each step on opposite sides, facing each other. The music picked up, the lights focusing at the top of the stairs. Black smoke began to roll down the steps slowly, the anticipation for your arrival growing. The music gets calm for a moment, a larger shadow figure standing at the top of the staircase. It’s larger than any of the other shadows in the room, standing at fifteen feet tall. It speaks in a monotone voice, but loud and commanding.

“Thank you all for your attendance tonight. The Crimson Gala is held once every year to start the new year with all those who survived the extermination. This being said, Madame would like to say her personal congratulations for not being apart of the bloodshed this year. While the past years she has used me to say that she will unfortunately not be in attendance, I am pleased to say that tonight, along with all the new guests, she will make her grand entrance. Presenting to you, the prowess of darkness and queen of shadows, Madame.”

The lights shine bright, and the shadow vanishes quickly. Velvet shushes Vox and Valentino, eyes practically bulging out of her skull to see you. Alastor just stares, waiting in anticipation. Charlie claps her hands quietly to herself while Vaggie just smiles. Rosie sips her glass, eyes waiting to see what outfit you’ve put together this time. At the top of the staircase, a large black smokey circle opens at the bottom of the floor, smoke swirling upwards slowly in a tornado form, smoke getting quicker as it swirls around itself. It gets larger, and guests closer to the stairs have to back up a bit as the wind picks up. Carmilla turns her face to the side, not wanting the wind to mess up her hair too much. Finally, the music picks up again, the peak point in the song, which lasts eight seconds, before the smoke falls to the side in one swoop, leaving you in the midst, now on display for all guests to see. The music continues, the chains against your dress glistening under the light. The music continues the play as you take steps down, looking at the guests. There’s a serious expression on your face, but somehow neutral all the same. Your shadows had added last minute black lace gloves, which went up to your forearm. The bottom of your dress had a lace trimming, as well as the bodice being laced with trim along the bust area. The jewelry was a simple black diamond crystal on a metal chain around your neck, paired with black diamond earrings. The cuff links on your hand remained all the same though. Finally reaching the end of the steps, everyone clapped, now finally being graced with your presence.

Velvet was in awe, staring at you with wide eyes like a child being gifted the most precious thing. Her excitement grew enormously, watching you shake hands and socialize with guests. She had never seen you before, after you had gone ghost for centuries, hardly anyone had photos of you. Hell she didn’t even know what you sounded like.

Charlie was so excited to meet you. She hadn’t seen you in, forever, and was now finally excited to be seen as your equal. Well, that was what she had hoped at least. Having seen a portrait of you in her parents' home when she was younger, she learned of the close relationship between Lilith and you. The anticipation had built over the years, and now, finally, she looked forward to being seen as your equal. Her hope was to hopefully get your support for the hotel, aiming to elevate her standing in the eyes of others. With your backing, she believed people would take both her and the redemption project more seriously, fostering a genuine desire for redemption. Maybe it would even work.

Husk smiled as he watched you socialize with guests. He was glad to finally see you back out again. He never knew why you went into hiding of course, but he never had the balls to ask, so he just stood quiet. When you disappeared, it was after a particularly rough extermination, and he knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Since then, the world only had glimpses of you to go on. Some sinners were starting to think you were a myth, since you never showed your face at the Crimson Gala, especially since you were the host.

Vox was taken aback, a sense of confusion and unease settling within him. Your presence had caught him off guard; he had anticipated something different, perhaps an older figure. The unexpected impact left him feeling uneasy, realizing the gravity of your influence. It dawned on him why Velvet had stressed the importance of making a favorable impression. Apart from Zestial and the twins, you stood as one of the strongest and most enduring overlords. In Vox's mind, securing your alliance was imperative for the success of his company. Your potential support would make his endeavors foolproof. Everything had to be flawless – not for any personal reasons, of course, but solely for the sake of his company. He needed you.

Making your rounds to guests, you began to get closer to your colleagues. With a wave to Stolas, and a nod to Zeezie, you run into the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. He grins, sharp teeth getting you. He smiles and nods his head, and you nod back. Alastor takes in your stoic expression, before carefully taking in your outfit.

“My, my, Madame, you’ve truly outdone yourself tonight. Your choice in attire is as captivating as ever – a perfect blend of elegance and sensibility. Quite the spectacle for the grand event, don’t you think?” He asked, holding his arm out to you. You take it, and the two of you walk around the lobby together, conversing.

“Well you don’t look to bad for yourself. Maybe going into hibernation was perfect for you.” You say back, and he grins.

“You’re too kind darling.” He says, dead heart quickening. He puts a hand to his chest, mocking fragility. “Your words leave me breathless my dear.” He says with false dramatics. You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully.

“Oh please, your ego is quite large enough already, yes?” You ask. He doesn’t say much else, but instead, gently moves you to the side while you look at your shadows, now waltzing around in the middle of the lobby, putting on a performance.

“Did you plan that?” Alastor asks. You shake your head.

“No, but the music is perfect for it, so I let them be. They’re already trapped with me, I might as well make them useful.” You say, and Alastor just hums, a laugh track playing. However, as the two of you walk, his track screeches to a halt upon seeing Vox approach the two of you.

“Madame.” Vox says, nodding his head. His expression is serious, and though you’ve heard of him, you’ve never seen him.

“Ah hello. Vox I presume?” You ask, free hand reaching forward to shake his own outstretched hand. The two of you shake hands, and Alastor can’t ignore the way he fights to keep his smile. Why he could just shove his staff right into that flace faced fuckers scree-

“Alastor, I suppose you’ve met Mr.Vox before, correct?” You ask. Alastor nods with a smile, and you notice the way it stretches almost painfully across his face. It makes you uneasy, but you ignore the feeling. He’d surely tell about what this is about later on in the night you supposed.

“Why yes we have! I’ve made him loose his signal quite a few times.” Alastor says with a laugh, his laugh track playing. Vox doesnt say anything, though he doesnt have too as his eye twitching had given enough away. The two clearly did not like each other. Than again, you had felt the same way about Alastor when you first met him, so the feeling was understandable.

“Madame, a dance?” Vox asked, turning his attention back to you. You thought for a moment, before untangling your arm from Alastors and nodding to Vox, taking his outstretched hand to you and leading you to the dance floor, which now had a couple other sinners dancing as well. Alastor held onto his staff tight, but relaxed as you discreetly slid him a card. In white with black lettering, cursive font. Seat number five. He was invited to your table. Guaranteed a seat. That was enough to have him back in light spirits, now searching out his dear friend Rosie to share the good news.

Velvet had been looking for you all over, her assistant close in toe. She had tried her hardest to get to you when you initially made your enterance, but alas you had been too overcrowded with people for her to get to you. She had heard rumors about how you hated rudeness and disrespect. That meant no interruptions, and no loud speaking, or vulgar language. She was sure to keep herself in check, and that meant her colleagues too. So, naturally, you could imagine her shock upon seeing Vox dancing with you on the dance floor, black dress twirling at your feet. You looked so regal, so elegant, flawless. She wanted to be just like you. She waited patiently on the sidelines, waiting for the dance to end. She could see the two of you having a conversation, but couldn’t pinpoint what about.

“So, I presume you’re one of the, newer overlords?” You asked as the two of you danced. Vox chuckled, leading you slowly.

“New? Well, maybe to you I would be. I heard you haven’t really left your own head for quite some time.” Vox says lowly. You nod, letting him dip you.

“Yes that would be correct. So what are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask, quite unsure of his purpose. Overlords are meant to have a strong leading purpose in hell, so what was his?

“Well, you’re looking at the head of Vox Tech. A software company.” He says, and you hum in understanding.

“So modern technology.” You confirm, and he nods, pearly whites shining brightly back at you.

“You’re looking at the future Madame.” Vox says, spinning you quickly, before bringing you close by your hip.

“Interesting. So, what’s your social influence?” You ask. Vox thinks for a moment, before laughing to himself.

“People have televisions in all their homes. Any piece of modern technology comes strictly from me. With a little mind control, there isn’t any influence I don’t have.” Vox says, noticing a sinner walk by with a smart watch, to which he holds a finger up to you, sending himself through it, and then to another sinner with their smartphone, making his way around the room in seconds before he’s back in front of you, stepping in time for the next number. “See? Nothing I can’t do.” He says with a wink. You nod slowly, looking around the room. Being back out in the spotlight after being gone for so long makes you feel a bit, behind. But with an overlord like this in your circle, maybe this could be a way for you to keep up with the current world, get you back up to pace. The dance finally comes to a close, and the two of you bow to one another, before you summon a card, handing it to Vox. Seat number nine. Vox grinned at you, giving you a nod. You nod back, before looking at another sinner who’s asked to speak with you. With that, you leave Vox at the dance floor, white card in hand. His spot at your table was secured. But, this made his emotions churn even more. What was this feeling he had? He was happy yes, but for the companies sake. But, maybe for once, he could mix just a little business with pleasure.

Charlotte had lost her partner at the bar and had been looking for her for quite some time. However, instead of finding Vagatha, she found you instead. You had seemed to be finishing a conversation with Vox, and though she disliked him, she took her chance the moment she saw you walking away.

“Excuse me, Madame- Miss- Um.” Charlotte said quickly, causing you to stop in your tracks. She got closer to you, now a few inches away. It was then she realized how tall you were compared to her. You were easily around seven feet, or just under that. With your heels that was. You looking down at her made her feel intimidated, small, like the child. But, feeling her nerves rise, she began to ramble again. “I know you probably have a lot to do tonight and I don’t want to take up your time, I just want you to hear me out, if that’s okay with you of course.” Charlotte said quickly, pausing to inhale. You narrowed your eyes at her, snapping your fingers and causing a shadow to appear next to you, singular glass on the tray. It was the same tall shadow from earlier, with the same drink. Again, using testing the temperature of the drink, before nodding to you so you could take it. You lifted the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with Charlotte as you drank the wine in one go, putting it down on the tray with a sigh.

“Go on.” You replied, now intrigued. You knew who she was. “You’re the girl with the hotel? Lucifer and Lilith’s child, correct?” You asked. Charlotte smiled, stars appearing in her eyes as she gushed.

“You know who I am?” She asked surprised. You nodded, cracking a small smile for the first time tonight, causing many eyes to stare in shock. You hardly ever smiled. In fact, there were three counts ever of you smiling in hell. Once, when you first got to hell, killing and claiming territory, and smiling once you finally settled down. The second being after World War One, when so many souls came to you seeking ‘help’ yet only being met with contracts. Third, being just before the extermination you disappeared after. You had gone through your belongings from Earth that managed to get brought to you from the surface, and was looking at family photos with one other overlord. Zestial. Now, at the gala, here was Lucifer’s brat, as some would call, making you crack a grin at her giddiness.

“Of course I know who you are. Do you forget I know your mother? You’re practically a niece of mine at this point.” You say, motioning at Charlotte to walk with you. “Now, what is this hotel I’ve heard about?” You ask. She beams at this and follows excitedly.

“OkaysobasicallyIhavethishotelandit’scalledthe’HazbinHotel’whichisforsinnerswhowantobebetterandredeemthemselvestotryand-“ You stopped her, allowing her to take a breath of air after rambling for so long. You lead her outside, finding a nearby bench to sit on. With how quickly she spoke, she needed all the ‘fresh’ air she could get right?

“Why are you speaking so quickly? Also, sinners who want to better themselves? Where would you find those?” You ask with a laugh, the same tall shadow appearing with a glass for you. Again, you sip on your drink as Charlotte collects herself together.

“Usually if I explain slowly people cut me off and I never get to finish, so I’ve gotten used to just saying everything as quickly as possible so they don’t cut me off and actually listen to what I have to say.” Charlotte says, again rather quickly. “Like I was saying; the Hazbin Hotel is a place for sinners who want to better themselves to possibly try to get into heaven through redemption, and I know what you’re thinking, we’ve all died and got sent here, but I believe people can change and that everyone deserves second chances.” Charlotte explained. She saw the look of confusion on your face, and began to speak again. “We already have two residents, who are making strides to be better people every day with group activities and I believe it’s working. If I could just get other people on board, people like you on board who actually believe in my cause, then we can get rid of extermination and maybe save some people here.” Charlotte explained. You thought for a moment, and the fact you hadn’t laughed in her face yet gave her some hope that maybe she had gotten through to you. You stood up, setting your empty glass on the tray before the shadow disappeared.

“Honestly,” You said with a sigh, looking around, your eyes landing on your shadows serving other guests. “The entire project sounds delusional.” You said sharply. Charlotte looked down at this, defeated, before standing as well.

“Well, thank you for hearing me out I guess. You’re the only other person who has aside from Alastor. So, thank you for your time.” Charlotte said, turning to walk back inside the gala, head hanging low with tears brimming her eyes. Maybe it was the connection to her mother, maybe it was because she reminded you of her mother. But, something had to change.

“I didn’t say we were done speaking Charlotte.” You said sharply again. She stopped and tensed up at that, before turning around, wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“W-what?” She asked. You stepped forward to her, putting your hands flat together before smoke encased them. Then seconds later it was gone, and in your hands was a white card. You handed it to her with a nod.

“It sounds delusional. But, maybe someone will like that about you.” You said. She read the card, face dropping once she realized what it meant.

“So, so I can sit with you tonight? I can pitch my idea?” She asked excitedly. You nodded, patting her shoulder.

“Yes you may. I’ll allow you to have your time. You get thirty minutes, there will be overlords and royalty there, I’m sure someone is bound to take an interest in it.” You say. Charlotte squeals excitedly before jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

“Oh my goodness! Thank you so so so much!! You won’t regret this I swear!” Charlotte said, and you just nodded.

“Of course I won’t. I don’t make mistakes.” You say, before walking past her. “Oh, and thank Alastor for that. He was insistent you be present at my table tonight.” You say to her. She’s left standing outside in shock, watching as you walk back into the lobby to socialize with other guests.

It seemed Velvet had finally caught you, rushing her assistant to follow you as she made her way over to you.

“Madame, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight! Your presence here is like a beacon of individuality and charisma,” she exclaims, eyes sparkling. You look her up and down for a moment, stopping in your tracks to listen to her. Something feels, odd about this one. “I’ve been ardently following your unique style for ages, and it’s truly an honor to be in your presence. The way you effortlessly blend boldness with subtlety, it’s unparalleled, truly outstanding. Now, I’ve ventured into a daring new fashion brand, and I can’t help but envision you as the unrivaled star in my collection. Picture it: the illustrious Madame, gracing the world with a revolutionary expression of style. This would be the perfect way to make your way back into the public eye, and of course you would look ravishing doing so.” Velvet said, her assistant handing you sketches of Velvets designs, and photographs of some of her work on her models. “So, what do you say Madame? Will you be the luminary of a new era in Hell’s fashion?” Velvet says. You grow quiet for a moment. Aside from Rosie, you’ve had no other overlord come into the fashion realm, and Rosie is only partially in it as a side hustle, but everyone knows it’s your thing. The designs are things you would never wear, bold and odd colors together, like a child’s clothing line.

“Is this for children?” You ask. Velvet nearly chokes and her assistant tenses up.

“No Madame. It’s modern fashion.” Velvet says cautiously. She knows what she’s doing. Correcting you. No one ever does that. You don’t need to be corrected because you know what you’re looking at. A sad fashion designer who wants you to slap your name on her sloppy work so if it goes up in flames it’s your reputation taking the fall, not her’s.

“So all your models look like they came from a whore house? Correct?” You ask. Velvet’s jaw drops and her assistant hides a laugh. Velvet, inhaling softly, tries her hardest not to cry on the spot. You’re her idol. She can’t fuck this up.

“No Madame! Not at all!” She says, showing you a design she had made personally for you. Based on your other collections, she knows your favorite color is black, so that’s a plus. All she had to do was add a bit more, of her flair to it. It was a black jumpsuit, with a fur coat that dropped down to the knees, black with white fur around the edges of the coat and the cuffs. The sketch wasn’t half bad, and quite frankly better than the others. Maybe it was the forgiving mood Charlotte had put you in. Velvet hands you the design and you skim over it, taking in the details, the hair and eye makeup, the shoes and jewelry notes written on the side. The sketches aren’t bad, but modern fashion isn’t your fashion.

“I’ll consider it. Do you mind if I keep these?” You ask. Velvet shakes her head, handing you the folder from her assistants hands.

“Please, take whatever you’d like Madame!” Velvet says. You nod, flipping through the pages.

“You’ll hear from me soon. In the meantime, I want new sketches of these designs. Modern fashion is fast fashion. Nothing stays memorable that way. You want to be good?” You ask her, and she nods quickly. “Then be better. Modesty and elegance are what people strive for. It radiates power, and everyone is greedy for that. If you can sell that through an item, you won’t ever go out of style.” You say, handing her back the folder, keeping the sketch she’d done for you. Well, at least you liked something. Vevelt nodded her head and watched you walk away, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Um, miss?” Her assistant asked.

“What?” Velvet asked annoyingly.

“She left a card on the folder.”

At that , Velvets eyes snapped down at the folder, before she screamed in excitement. Seat number six. She was invited to your table. Mission accomplished. Now, with only six seats left to fill, you were off to talk to your other guests. The night had proved to be interesting, and you knew your encore would not disappoint.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere vox #yandere vox x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #isuckatwritingsobenice #isuckatwritingsobenice infernal shadows

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d-targaryenshoe · 3 months

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Betrothed, Wed - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 2914

Summary: Being wed to one another is more than just an 'I do' is it not?

The Bridgerton household was bustling with activity as the family gathered around the breakfast table.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm croissants filled the air, and the sound of cheerful chatter could be heard echoing through the corridors.

It was a regular morning in the Bridgerton household, but little did they know, this breakfast would be far from ordinary.

As the family settled into their seats, Violet Bridgerton, the matriarch of the family, spoke up.

"My dear children, I do hope there will be another grandchild soon," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

This was a topic that was often brought up at the breakfast table, as Violet was keen on expanding their already large family.

Eloise Bridgerton, the second eldest daughter, was sipping on her tea when she heard her mother's words.

She was taken aback and her eyes widened in surprise.

She had not expected this topic to come up at the breakfast table, especially not so early in the morning.

As she tried to swallow her tea, she choked on it and coughed uncontrollably.

Her siblings and mother quickly rushed to her side, patting her on the back and offering her water.

Once she had regained her composure, Eloise glared at her mother and exclaimed

"Mother, must you always bring up the topic of marriage and children at breakfast?"

Violet chuckled at her daughter's reaction and replied. "Eloise, I am only stating the truth. Y/n is to be wed to Anthony today and it would be a pleasant surprise."

This was a common conversation in the Bridgerton household, as Violet was known for her love of children and her desire to have a large family.

She had raised her eight children almost single-handedly after her husband's untimely death, and she cherished every moment of it.

Her children, on the other hand, had mixed feelings about the topic.

Eloise and her younger sister, Francesca, were not as keen on the idea of marriage and children just yet.

Eloise had always been a headstrong and independent woman, and the thought of settling down and starting a family did not appeal to her.

She had always dreamt of making a name for herself and pursuing her passion for writing.

Francesca, on the other hand, was content with her life as it was and had no desire to conform to societal expectations.

Violet, however, was determined to see all her children settled and happy, and she was not one to give up easily.

She continued to bring up the topic of marriage and children at every opportunity, much to the dismay of her children.

As they continued with their breakfast, the conversation shifted to lighter topics.

But, the buzzing chatter came to a halt when the Bridgerton sister, Eloise, exclaimed.

“Have you all heard about the dress that Madame Delacroix has designed for y/n? It’s said to be one of her most exquisite works yet!”

The mention of the well-known designer, Madame Delacroix, immediately caught everyone’s attention, especially Daphne and Violet Bridgerton, who couldn’t hide their curiosity.

You were a close family friend and recently engaged to Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest Bridgerton brother.

The news of your betrothal had created quite a stir in London’s high society circles.

And now, there was talk of a special dress designed just for you by Madame Delacroix herself.

Eloise, who had heard about the dress from Lady Danbury, eagerly filled in her family with the details.

“Apparently, Madame Delacroix has designed the dress keeping in mind y/n's vibrant and lively personality. It’s going to be fearless and assertive, just like her,' she explained.

The mention of an unconventional dress for a bride-to-be piqued Daphne’s interest, who had made a name for herself.

“Well, this sounds like a dress worth seeing. I might even have some pointers for my dear sister-in-law,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Violet, the matriarch of the Bridgerton family, couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of seeing you in a dress that truly represented you.

“I have always admired Madame Delacroix’s work, and I am sure this dress will be no exception. It will be a perfect reflection of y/n's character,” she remarked.

Daphne leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial.

"You know, Mother, I think it's time we assisted y/n to get ready for her big day. Eloise and I can take care of making sure the carriage arrives on time."

Violet nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling with delight.

"That's a splendid idea, Daphne. Why don't you and Eloise ask Maid Rose for that matter while I help y/n with her wedding dress?"

You looked up at Violet, your heart swelling with gratitude.

You always admired the older woman's grace and beauty, and the thought of having her help you get ready for your wedding was more than you could have asked for.

As you stood, Violet placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"You look stunning, dear. Now, let's get you into your dress and make sure you're ready to walk down the aisle in class."

Together, you made your way upstairs to the dressing room, the other women of the Bridgerton household trailing behind you.

Eloise chuckled, "I can't wait to see you in your dress, y/n!"

You blushed, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You turned to Violet, who was already helping you unbutton your gown.

"Thank you," you whispered. "For everything."

Violet smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "It's my pleasure, dearest. Today is all about family, after all."

As they helped you into your wedding dress, the other women clustered around, offering their assistance and well wishes.

Daphne secured the last of the buttons, while Eloise fussed with the veil until it was just so.

You looked like a goddess, ready to embark on your happily ever after.

Finally, they all stepped back to admire their handiwork. There was a moment of quiet as if everyone was taking in the significance of the moment.

And then, Eloise, never one to be at a loss for words, squealed.

"You look absolutely radiant, y/n!"

The others chimed in, nodding in agreement, their eyes shining with tears of happiness.

You felt a lump form in your throat as you turned to Violet.

"Thank you," you whispered. "For all of this."

Violet reached out, taking your hand in hers. "Oh, dear," she said with a wink, "You're the one who's to be wed today."

And then, there was a knock at the door.

Violet Bridgerton, looked up from where she was standing in the room, her attention momentarily diverted from your dress.

"Yes?" she called, her voice calm and composed.

There was a pause, and then the voice of Maid Rose floated up from the hallway.

"My lady, the carriage is ready to take you to the chapel."

Violet smiled, nodding her approval.

"Thank you, Rose. Please notify the driver that we will be on our way shortly." She turned back to her daughters and you.

"Everyone, it's time. Let's make our way downstairs and get to the chapel."

Daphne, a blush prominent on her cheeks, stepped forward and took your hand.

"Come, y/n. We'll carry your train together."

As you all descended the grand staircase, the soft swishing of silk and the click-clack of heels echoed through the manor.

Eloise, ever the curious one, darted ahead to peek out a window, marveling at the carriage outside.

When you reached the bottom of the staircase, Violet paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, she felt a pang of pride and sadness all at once.

Knowing that this day would mark a new chapter not only for you and Anthony but for her family as well.

She squared her shoulders and led you all out the door, towards the awaiting carriage.

The sun was shining brightly overhead, casting a warm glow over the manor grounds as you walked towards the carriage.

As you neared the carriage, the coachman opened the door and bowed gracefully. "Good morning, ladies. Shall we be on our way?"

Daphne, still holding your hand, stepped up into the carriage and took a seat beside you.

She glanced back at her mother and Eloise, a sparkle of anticipation in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said, reaching out to help Eloise and Violet into the carriage as well.

As you all settled in, the coachman shut the door and climbed up onto his perch, taking the reins in hand.

With a snap of his whip, the horses sprang into action, carrying you and the three Bridgertons towards the chapel.

The air inside the carriage was filled with the sweet scent of flowers and the rustle of your dress as you shifted her position.

Finally, you rounded a corner and spotted the familiar spire of the chapel poking above the treetops.

As the carriage pulled up in front of the chapel, Violet stepped out first, her dress swirling about her as she supported Daphne and Eloise's descent.

She then turned to face you, taking your hands in her own.

"My dear, you look absolutely stunning. Daphne has done an excellent job with your hair."

You smiled shyly. "Thank you, Violet. I'm just glad that everything is finally here. I can't believe it's actually happening."

You glanced over at Daphne, whose eyes glowing with happiness. "I'm so glad you're going to be my sister."

Your heart ached at the thought of your late father not being there to fulfill this honor.

You had always imagined him proudly by your side during this momentous occasion.

With a heavy heart, you thought of your options.

You didn't have many close male relatives, and you weren't particularly close to your mother either.

As you deliberated over your dilemma, your eyes wandered to the elegant figure of Violet Bridgerton.

The family's matriarch, who had always been like a mother figure to you.

Summoning your courage, you approached Violet in front of the steps from the chapel.

"Violet, may I speak with you?" you asked, your voice filled with trepidation.

Violet turned towards you, her eyes filled with warmth.

"Of course, my love," she replied. "What troubles you?"

You hesitated before speaking, your voice quivering with emotion.

"I… I don't have anyone to walk me down the aisle," you confessed. "Would you consider doing it?"

Violet's eyes widened, her face a testament to the surprise.

"Y/n, I would be honored," she said, her voice filled with sincerity. "Your father was a dear friend of mine, and I would be overjoyed to stand in his place."

Relief swept over you, and tears welled in your eyes. "Thank you, Violet. You have no idea how much this means to me."

When the time came, you and Violet entered the chapel side by side. The guests rose, their awe evident in their expressions.

Your eyes locked on Anthony, who stood at the altar, an enchanting smile gracing his handsome face.

As you and Violet glided down the aisle together, the sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the floor.

The guests turned their heads, captivated by the sight of the bride and her mother-in-law.

Whispers of admiration echoed through the chapel as you and Violet's steps synchronized with one another.

You both moved with grace and poise, your bond visible to all.

It was a moment of pure friendship and love, transcending traditional roles and expectations.

When you reached the altar, Violet placed your hand in Anthony's, closing your hands together as a symbol of unity.

The chapel fell silent, and time seemed to stand still amidst the romance and pure joy in the air.

Anthony stood tall at the altar, his heart racing in his chest, his midnight-blue suit a stark contrast against the gleaming white surroundings.

Handsome and dignified, he anxiously kept his gaze fixed on you, his bride.

His palms dampened with anticipation, his mind swirling with a mixture of nerves and awe.

Gasps of admiration echoed through the hallowed space, and even the rustle of dresses and suits seemed to quiet in reverence to her ethereal beauty.

Father Timothy, a wise and gentle elderly priest, smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling with mirth and faith as he welcomed you and initiated the ceremony.

The atmosphere was filled with a mixture of reverence and excitement as you both exchanged vows, your heartfelt words carrying through the sacred space.

The words, "for better or for worse," hung in the air, a promise that resonated with the sincerity and depth of your love.

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you spoke your vows, your voice filled with raw emotion.

Anthony's voice shook with emotion as well, his eyes locked onto yours, your love a definite force binding you together.

The sunlight, streaming through the windows, seemed to bathe you both in a celestial glow as if bestowing blessings upon your blessed union.

Father Timothy's voice rose and fell, his words weaving a tapestry of guidance and hope for your future.

He spoke of strength, warmth, and companionship, reminding you of the loyalty and support you both had vowed to offer each other.

The Bridgertons looked on with unwavering support and love, tears glistening in their eyes, knowing that this day marked far more than the union of you two.

It signified the merging of two families and the creation of a new beginning.

As the ceremony reached its crescendo, you and Anthony exchanged rings, solemnizing your commitment to one another.

The diamond on your finger sparkled, catching the light like stars in a midnight sky.

While Anthony's gold wedding band gleamed, symbolizing the eternal circle of your love.

With each heartfelt word and sacred act, the chapel seemed to hum with the intensity of emotions emanating from every person present.

The love felt within those walls was palpable - a love that transcended time, a love that would forever be etched in the hearts of everyone who witnessed it.

Finally, Father Timothy proclaimed, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

As the swelling music filled the air, signaling the end of the ceremony, you and Anthony joyfully sealed your vows with a passionate kiss.

Cheers erupted from the congregation, filling the chapel with exuberance and celebration, their applause reverberating against the high ceilings and intricately carved arches.

It was a moment of pure bliss, two souls basking in the enchantment of newfound union.

The chapel doors swung open with a gentle creak, and all eyes turned to gaze upon you as a newly married couple.

Y/n and Anthony Bridgerton.

Your heart fluttered with excitement as you clung to Anthony's arm.

Feeling the weight of your future and the promise of a lifetime together.

You had dreamt of this day for as long as you could remember, and now it had finally come true.

The sun filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm glow on the white walls of the chapel.

Soft music played in the background as you and Anthony made your way down the aisle, your steps light and graceful.

As you reached the doors, you paused for a moment, taking in the sight before you.

The courtyard was bathed in sunlight, a sea of vibrant colors and delicate scents.

The guests held flower petals in their hands, ready to shower you with love and good wishes.

You could hardly contain your excitement as you and Anthony stepped outside.

The air was fragrant with the sweet smell of blossoms, and the sound of laughter and clapping filled the courtyard.

As the guests threw flower petals towards you, you were both enveloped in a cascade of petals, a beautiful shower of nature's confetti.

You looked up, your eyes sparkling with joy.

The sky seemed bluer than ever, a perfect backdrop to your special moment.

You could feel the weight of tradition and happiness settle upon your shoulders, lifting your spirit into the realm of pure bliss.

This was the start of your journey, a new chapter in your love story.

Together you made your way through the sea of flowers, your steps like a waltz, graceful, harmonious, and full of promise.

The petals clung to your clothes, creating a tapestry of colors that seemed to dance with your every move.

Each step you took felt solid, like building blocks for your future together.

As you reach the center of the courtyard, you let your fingers trail along the stone fountain, cool and inviting.

The water shimmered under the sunlight, mirroring the happiness in your eyes. You turned to Anthony, your heart overflowing with love.

"Can you believe it?" you whispered, your voice filled with awe. "We're married. This is our forever."

Anthony smiled, his eyes locked with yours.

"Yes, my love," he said softly.

"This is just the beginning. And I vow to you, every day will be filled with the same satisfaction and devotion as today."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you knew at that moment that your happiness was boundless.

You glanced around at your guests, your faces glowing with affection and admiration.

It was then that you realized your love story was not just yours alone.

It was a tale shared with your closest friends and family.

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maximilfisms · 5 months

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draw me like i'm one of your french girls | thérèse raquin x fem!reader

Summary: Thérèse, trapped in her unwanted marriage to Camille, seeks comfort in Y/N, the talented artist who painted her husband's portrait, in the form of an illicit rendezvous. Or a glimpse on one of those nights where Y/N would sneak into Madame Raquin's shop, fulfill Thérèse's needs, and disappear like ghosts in the air.

Word count: 2k+

Tags: 18+, smut, fingering, cheating, semi-public sex? idk, but they almost got caught, bottom!thérèse, top!reader, what's proofreading?, MDNI!

this is my first fic, and i honestly don't even know what i am doing rip

The moonlight shone its faint light to the labyrinthine streets of Paris, where gaslights cast flickering shadows upon the cobblestone alleys, and the whispers of clandestine affairs lingered like the fragrance of aged wine. Thérèse found solace in the hidden corners of a city draped in secrets. The narrow passages, cloaked in the heavy scent of impending rain, and the hushed murmur of distant voices all served as the backdrop for her forbidden love. It was within this maze of dimly lit alleyways, where the echoes of the footsteps of busy Parisians harmonized with the nocturnal symphony of the city, that she navigated the complexities of their entangled destinies.

The bedroom, perched on the second floor of her aunt, Madame Raquin's shop, became their clandestine haven—a sanctuary veiled in heavy drapes, the creaking sighs of weathered floorboards, and the gaslights flickered outside, transforming her marital bedroom into a cocoon where the artistry of their passion unfolded. The ambient glow painted an intimate tapestry upon the walls, revealing the shared vulnerability of two souls seeking refuge in the shadows.

The air itself seemed to hold the whispers of lovers from eras past, a blend of the city's musky perfume and the intoxicating aroma of forbidden desire. Thérèse, adorned in the trappings of societal expectations, stood before her woman with a yearning that mirrored the palpable tension of the quiet night. Y/N, the painter with fingers that could evoke emotion from pigments, gazed at Thérèse as if deciphering the poetry etched upon her soul. The dim light filtered through the bedroom's heavy drapes, casting Thérèse's silhouette in a dance of shadows that accentuated the soft curves of her vulnerability, and Y/N, a connoisseur of emotion, observed with an artist's discerning eye—a voyeur capturing the essence of clandestine passion in each subtle movement.

"Draw me like I'm one of your French girls," Thérèse whispered, her voice a soft plea that echoed in the dimly lit room, where their secret unfolded against the backdrop of Paris's clandestine allure.

Y/N, attuned to the nuances of their surroundings, nodded in silent agreement despite the subtle yet genuine smile that graced her lips. The room, a haven shrouded in the mysteries of the night, bore witness to the illicit dance of two souls—a dance painted with the strokes of desire, vulnerability, and the unspoken language of their love.

Y/N's hands moved with purpose, much like the strokes of a brush in a canvas that became an intimate exploration of Thérèse's essence. Her slender fingers brushed Thérèse's shoulders, sliding off the brunette's dress off of it, watching as the fabric fell onto her feet. Y/N's eyes glimmered with sheer affection for the woman, her point finger tracing Thérèse's prominent collarbones, down to her sternum, where the valley's of her breasts lay, waiting to be worshiped.

“You truly are a work of art, mon amour,” The artist whispered as she leaned in to place chaste kisses on her soft neck, and Y/N's hands palmed the supple flesh of Thérèse's breasts, touch as tender as the stroke of an artist's brush. Each caress of the canvas mirrored the unspoken language that flowed between them—the language of love that dared not speak its name in the harsh light of day.

Yet, the threat of discovery loomed above them like a guillotine, sharp and unforgiving. Camille, Thérèse's unsuspecting husband, engaged in games just outside, unaware of the symphony of passion that played out on the shop's second floor, on their marital bed.

"We must be cautious," Thérèse whispered, her eyes darting towards the creaking floorboards below. "Madame Raquin and Camille must not suspect."

Y/N, whose heart beat in rhythm with Thérèse's, nodded solemnly. "Our love is a secret garden, Thérèse, one that flourishes in the shadows but withers in the harsh light of judgment.” She spoke as her hands went to cradle Thérèse's cheeks. “I promise to be careful.”

The bedroom, once a marital sanctuary for Thérèse and Camille, transformed into the backdrop of an illicit affair. The fear of discovery heightened the intensity of their connection, turning stolen kisses into acts of rebellion against a world that sought to confine them.

Outside, the city's heartbeat continued, oblivious to the symphony of emotions that echoed within the four walls of the bedroom. Thérèse, her heart torn between duty and desire, reached out to Y/N, their fingers entwining in a silent vow that defied the constraints of their reality.

With the air thick of passion, tender affections, and fear, all that had happened went on like a blur. Both women couldn't remember who leaned in first to trap their lips into a fiery but loving embrace, and yet, the flickering candlelight cast an ethereal glow upon their entangled bodies, the shadows playing upon the tapestry of their clandestine love. Y/N dared to speak, to try and use the last of her reason, to attempt at stopping herself despite knowing that she had gone far too deep, but, Thérèse, overcome by the weight of societal expectations, pressed a trembling finger to Y/N's lips, silencing the unspoken fears that lingered between them.

No words were needed as the artist took the initiative and resumed their kiss, her lips brushing against Thérèse's as the bedroom became a cocoon, shielding them from the judgmental eyes of society. The intimacy between them, though a spark in the vast darkness, burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Y/N carefully lay the woman beneath her to the plush bed, hands exploring Thérèse's skin like a caveman threading a path in the unfamiliar wilderness. The tips of her fingertips toyed with Thérèse's hardened nipples, eliciting held back whimpers from the woman laying beneath her.

“Y/N…” Thérèse whispered, but she only gave her woman a smile in response, taking the other nipple to her mouth, and sucking on it like a newborn starved. Thérèse closed her eyes shut, body overwhelmed by the sensations of Y/N's worship, only for those brown orbs to flutter open along with her mouth as two fingers eased their way to her core.

A sly smile tugged in the corners of Y/N's pink lips, gazing up at Thérèse whose pupils were blown wide, and mouth covered with one hand, containing the noises that ought to escape her with each thrust of the artist's long and slender fingers in her tight pussy.

Thérèse's labored breathing, accompanied with the wet sloshing sounds created by her dripping entrance and Y/N's fingers, were the only sounds heard in the stillness of the night. That was before a sudden creaking of the weathered floorboards interrupted the women's intimate bubble, sending shivers down Thérèse's spine. Her eyes widened, but Y/N did not pull back even as her breath was caught in the suspense of the moment. Instead, her fingers only went faster, opting to guide the writhing woman below her to the pinnacle of her high, and the contracting of Thérèse's pussy against her fingers only served as an indication that she was on the right track.

Thérèse struggled to finish the sentence as she held back her moans in between, "Our world would crumble." Y/N hummed in approval as she leaned in to Thérèse's clit, using her tongue to stimulate the woman's bundle of nerves that only made it harder for the latter to control her sounds, more so as she came all over Y/N's face and fingers, legs trembling as the artist's fingers slowed down its thrusts, prolonging the release.

"Quiet, amour," Y/N whispered breathily, a twinge of worry in their voice amidst the obvious arousal. "If Madame Raquin or Camille were to hear—"

The bedroom, though once a haven for marital vows, now bore witness to a love that dared to defy the norms of its time. Thérèse and Y/N, in the quiet moments between heartbeats, exchanged vows that resonated with the soulful ache of a love that existed in the shadows. The night wore on, and with each passing moment, the threat of exposure intensified. Thérèse, torn between the intoxication of love and the fear of societal retribution, felt the weight of their clandestine affair like a stone pressing against her chest. The gaslights outside continued to flicker, casting a gentle glow upon the tangled sheets that bore witness to the stolen moments of Thérèse and Y/N's clandestine affair. The night, though silent, echoed with the lingering whispers of a love that dared to exist in the shadows of the city.

In the quiet aftermath of their shared passion, the room held the remnants of their intimate communion. Thérèse, her senses heightened by the mingling scents of jasmine and musk, traced her fingers along Y/N's bare chest—the contours of a lover and confidante. The air, once heavy with fear, now carried the sweet echo of their shared pleasure. Y/N, eyes filled with a tenderness that mirrored Thérèse's, brushed a strand of hair away from her flushed face.

"You don't know what you do to me, Thérèse," Y/N murmured, their voice a soothing melody that hung in the air. "I hear your voice in my dreams, feel the ghosts of your touch on my body, and crave you like I haven't satiated myself in years."

Thérèse, still lost in the aftermath of their intimacy, met Y/N's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and longing. The world outside, with its judgmental eyes and societal expectations, felt distant—a mere whisper in the night.

"Promise me, Y/N," Thérèse pleaded, her voice a fragile whisper. "Promise me that our love will endure, that it will be a persevering flame against the winds of adversity."

Y/N, caressing Thérèse's cheek with a touch that bordered on reverence, responded, "I don't have to promise anything, Thérèse. Like the stars above, I know our hearts will shine even in the darkest nights."

The bedroom, once charged with the tension of secrecy, now cradled the two lovers in a post-coital embrace. Their entangled limbs spoke of a passion that transcended societal norms, a love that flourished in the clandestine corners of their shared existence.

In the silence that followed, Y/N traced circles on Thérèse's skin, each touch a reassurance of their shared vulnerability. The room, steeped in the essence of their intimacy, held the echoes of their whispered promises and the delicate symphony of their love. The shadows, once a cloak for their secret desires, now danced upon the walls like witnesses to a tale written in the language of tender glances and lingering touches.

Thérèse, her senses attuned to the lingering traces of their passion, gazed into Y/N's eyes as if searching for the permanence of their connection. Y/N, the artist who knew how to breathe life into moments, held Thérèse with a gaze that mirrored the profound depth of their shared intimacy.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of soft pink, Thérèse and Y/N lay intertwined, bodies and souls entwined in a tapestry of shared vulnerability. The air, now tinged with the promise of a new day, carried the remnants of their intimacy—a scent that lingered like a secret between them.

"Promise me you'll come when I call again," Thérèse pleaded, her gaze locking with Y/N's in a silent pact. "When I need you the most, when I feel my cage even more… promise me you'll come running.”

Y/N, brushing a stray strand of hair from Thérèse's face, nodded with a smile etched on her face. "I'll be here before you know it."

As the sun rose, casting its golden rays upon the city of Paris, Thérèse and Y/N knew that the world awaited their departure from the intimate cocoon they had woven together. With a final, lingering kiss, Thérèse and Y/N parted ways, slipping into the daylight as if reentering a world that demanded conformity. The bedroom, now silent and empty, held the memories of their stolen moments—a gallery of passion that defied the limitations of societal norms.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x female reader #thérèse raquin #therese raquin #wanda maximoff x female reader #smut #in secret #wlw

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supermarketbae · 11 months

Note

dom billy punishing you’re being a brat flirting with other guys at a party, he grabs you and shoves you into a closet. It’s really rough hot , and ur both so sweaty and he’s rails his huge thick cock in you. Degrading and praising you. After it’s done you both collapse, cus ur so tired. And he places huge sloppy kisses on your face telling you what a good girl you are, whilst your still shaking from your orgasm.

HEM HeM seeing as it's my **FAVORITE LITTLE REQUESTER**(if there was a way to make 'favorite' more emphasized believe me I WOULD) ig i just have to do a quick little somethin on it (by quick i mean never ending- soul consuming-sending all my brain cells that are in commission to work on it-perhaps multiple chapter-fic) again, I don't make the rules I just work here. (shoutout to @billysbot for literally being the sweetest human!! It's too fun talking to you while i write these funny little fics! (even if you are a tad distracting😏) HAVE THE BEST DAY BB !!) guys please read🙏i went on a half an hour journey to see if the word 'simp' was used back in the 80's

Naughty and Not so Nice

a series

warnings: secret!relationship, P in v smut, degradation, praise, jealous!Billy, Whiny!Billy, Loud!reader, Hopper!reader, choking kink, breeding (ig), semi public sex, idk this whole fic again lmao.

"Tie me up?" you smile as your boyfriend, Billy's hands ghost up your back ever so slightly teasing. "Hargrove, I swear to god don't make me regret liking you!" you laugh as he nimbly tightens the strings of the black corset you wear. "I could never, I'm too amazing." he chuckles coming to nuzzle you from behind breathing in the sweet aroma of your perfume, arms wrapping around your waist possessively. You tsk feigning annoyance, "so cocky baby" you smirk pressing a kiss to his now blushing cheeks. "Shut up." he groans hiding his face in your neck. "We'd better get going darlin'" Billy mumbles to you making no moves towards the door of his room. You groan audibly, "Do we have to?" you whine. You had agreed to go to Tina's Halloween party with Billy. He'd practically begged you to go with him, and who were you to say no.

You knew it was risky wearing semi matching costumes, both of you clad in all black, but what could you say, you longed to be Billy's girl. You wanted everyone to know. Everyone to see that your his. See, the only problem with everyone knowing was your father, Jim Hopper. Needless to say If anyone wanted to get back at you for anything, all they would have to do is tell him you were Hargrove's girl, and you were fucked. You knew the minute that happened you'd be grounded till 55. rolling your eyes at the thought, Billy sighs "I know darlin' but I'd promised some people I'd be there and I'd hate to disappoint." He smirks. "By 'people' do you mean half the high school girls?" you prod giggling "You know me well madam." Billy replies grin boyish. "Attention whore!" you laugh as his hands tickle into your sides and you fall back into him smiling still. "little minx." Billy grumbles kissing your cheek and pulling you to the door.

The party was somewhat fun.However, Billy had disappeared to god knows where. Either way, the food as always, was delicious. The drinks were abundant. It was loud, chaotic, and lively all at the same time. You lean towards Robin to hear her better. "I said," comes her raspy voice. "Do you know if Nancy and Steve are still a thing?" the slight blush on her face makes you smirk "Somebody's intrestedddd in Nancyyyyy" you tease watching her yelp with indignation "Bold of you to assume but ok!" she bites back eyes glittering with amusement "Ohhh you have it bad!" you sing watching Robins face glow deeper red "Shut it! I'll find her myself" she grumbles rolling her eyes at you lovingly. "Good luck!" you shout to her giving her an exaggerated wink and kissy face. You snort as she flips you off, stalking away to find Nancy.

Grimacing at the bitter taste of alcohol in your spiked lemonade you sit back on the couch content, that is, until Jason Carver comes sauntering over. You groan as he smiles down at you scooting the closest he possibly can to you. "What's a pretty girl like you doing by yourself?" he slurs gently to you. You cough aggressively , he positively reeks of alcohol. "Hoping to be near people like you." You state back prettily. The stupid smile on his face only spreads as he lays an arm around you. "We should go out sometime baby, I'd promise I'd make it worth your while." He winks at you cheekily and you giggle swatting him on the arm "You don't mean that!" you say lightly smacking a hand to your mouth to cover your simpering. "I do-" he is leaning closer to your face when he suddenly is yanked away "Get the fuck away from her Carver." Comes the animalistic growl you've come to recognize as your boyfriend.

"Whats'it to you, freak." Apparently, Jason had a death wish today,choosing his words most unwisely. A few people, yourself included gasp as you watch Billy throw Jason off the couch with ease, combat boot coming in contact with the burnette's chest, holding him down. "If you even look at her again. I'll fucking kill you." Billy snarls, voice poisonous. He turns to you possessive gleam evident in his eyes, "get over here." the command sends a shiver down your spine as you get up following him through the crowded room to the upstairs. "The fuck were you playin' at" Billy bites the minute he shuts the door, locking you both into to a tiny bathroom. "You left me. I was bored. He flirted," you say calmly feigning innocence "I don't see the problem, Baby." you say voice seductively low as you inch your hands up his strong frame.

"I guess I have to remind you who you belong to then" he rasps mouth harshly coming to bite at your neck. blatantly marking you. "B-billy-ah-my friends-" You moan as licks a stripe of your neck ferally groaning as he humps into you. "Shut the fuck up-god sweetheart I'm already so hard for you- shoulda-ah-should've fuckin thought of that when you were whoring out for Jason huh?" You mewl at his words eyes rolling back into your head as he clamps a hand over your mouth "c'mon darlin' shut that pretty mouth of yours, d-don't-goddd-don't w-want your friends to hear you moaning my name like a slut huh?" You whimper out muffled as he bends you over the small sink counter, other hand coming to knead into your ass before giving it a rough slap. "Billy~ ohmygod-please babyyy!" you whine as his hands come to play with your hardened nipples. He tsks eyes trailing over your wiggling figure,

"begging me to rail you already love?" Billy mocks as he slowly removes your panties moving your short skirt higher. "So wet already darlin'" Billy keens fingers coming to rub at your swollen clit, you whimper, jolting from the sudden spike in pleasure as he unbuckles his belt, the small clinks of metal sending a shiver down your spine. "Gonna take all of me huh? Pretty fuckin slut. g-good-oh godd-"

You cry out in unison as he thrusts into you, yours loud and perfectly pornographic. "Such a-so tight sweetheart-pretty slutty thing for me yeah?" Billy grunts as you clench around him hand snaking to your hair to pull you back. "Or is it for Jason hmm? you think-ah-fuckin take it darlin' justttt like that- you think he could fuck you like this?" you whimper shaking your head vigorously spasming as he grips your hips slamming them back onto his. "Words, darlin'" Billy huskily mumbles to you. "Nonono j-just you-ah godd Billy so good-just you baby-feels so-ohhh" You cry out, his hand is doing little to muffle your wanton moans now. "Such a slut yeah?-fuck you're milkin' my cock so good baby-good girl such a-ah fuck-good girl." you sob at his words pretty tears streaming down your cheeks "Billy-'m soso sorry baby pleasee I can't s'too good." you slur, you feel like your coming apart at the seams as he rams his thick cock into you. "Awh is my dumb little whore crying for me-such a pretty little thing." He groans as your sobs spike in volume "You can take it darlin', I-oh god baby squeezing me so fucking tight-I know you can take it-so gooodd for me!" Billy purrs to you whimpering.

"Suck 'em, Angel," Billy's fingers hold your mouth open as you moan gratefully, tongue swirling around his digits. "Gotta keep your slutty mouth quiet somehow darlin.'" he chides to your already reeling figure. "f-fuck me Billy P-pleaseee" Your mewl comes out breathy and intelligible as you choke on his fingers. "Ohmygoshd-Billy-mph-Pleaseee-wanna cum!" Billy chuckles as you drool around his finger thumb pad coming to wipe against the bottom of your lip. "droolin'-ah- for me baby?-so-goddd too tight so fuckin tight-such a precious thing." You cling to him as he pushes you closer to the edge. Billy groans tilting his head back, and you wail when his hand comes to play with your already overstimulated clit. "B-Billy~ S-so ohmygmf-I needa cum pleasee-" Billy chuckles darkly "All mine baby-ah-good girl- all fucking mine- so good!" you whine when his thrust grow sporadic, turning your head back, you lock eyes with him, your cock drunk ones coming in contact with his blown pupils, blue completely hidden. "please." you whimper to him. Billy's eyes roll. "God yes, darlin cum for me- all-oh shit darlin' cumming too-oh Goddd." Billy rambles to you pulling you closer as you bawl out his name a final time spasming a final time around his cock, feeling his cum fill you up.

"sosoSO good for me baby, did so good, all mine, all fucking mine darlin'" Billy moans into the shell of your ear softly as you come down from your high. A warm blush fills your cheeks at his praises. You collapse, falling into him. Billy holds you up pressing kisses to your flushed cheeks as you shake, positively scorching from your orgasm. Billy is clinging to you mouthing at any skin he can reach. "love you so much- so fucking much." he slurs out kissing your cheeks again and again. "mmmm love you too baby" you sigh out completely blissed out. Cuddling closer into him. Unaware of Robin searching for you outside...

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JUAHIHSIWUHWWUIDH AGAIN THIS GOT OUTTA HAND!! MbMB (this is the start of a tiny mini series idk bro) THANK U BB FOR READING!!

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x female!reader #stranger things billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove my love #billy hargrove my beloved #billy hargrove headcanon

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lowkeycasanova · 6 months

Text

private lesson

Plot: Sanji is a huge flirt, talking about doing private cooking lessons with him. And to his surprise, you actually agree.

pairing: opla!sanji x fem reader

word count: 1.8k

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Early one morning, the Straw Hat Pirates anchored their ship on a new island. And as usual, they were eager to explore new uncharted territory. Sanji was left with finding groceries to stock up on.

He wandered through the bustling market. A hand in his pocket and a freshly lit cigarette in the other as he took in the vibrant colors and sounds. The exotic spices, fresh fruit, strange seafood, and beautiful women all piqued his interest.

Heavy on the beautiful women.

Sometimes he had to stop and remind himself why he was there in the first place: finding ingredients for the crew's meals and any other culinary inspiration.

He bought his usual main meats and vegatables and a few things to experiment with later, but what really grabbed his attention was the aroma wafting from a nearby restaurant.

You were the sous chef for the restaurant you worked at. But make no mistake, you worked your way up to that position. Starting on dishes, then the plate line, and finally, you got to cook in the kitchen and craft dishes yourself. You also went to culinary school for a bit, so you did have some formal training under your belt.

The head chef was getting older and had a few health problems, so you'd pretty much take over. It was impressive at your young age. Although it could be stressful at times, you were nice to everyone. Everyone had a lot of respect for you.

It was going on brunch time and surprisingly, it wasn't all too busy. So you spent your time behind the counter at the bar, wiping down the area and trying to perfect a new dish.

The bells above the door jingled. You looked up from what you were doing and made eye contact with a young blonde guy, about your age. He smiles at you. You give him a small smile back, but not sure if it was directed at you in the first pace.

He exchanges a few words with the host and makes his way to the empty seat at the bar across from where you stood, setting his bags down next to it and getting comfortable.

"Hi, welcome in." you greeted him. "What drink can I get you started with today?"

"Just a glass of water, love"

You'd never been called that before. He definitely wasn't a local.

"Here you go." You poured him the water with a friendly smile and slid him the menu. "Let me know when you're ready to order, or if you have any questions."

Sanji looked at you with geniune interest, taking in your professionalism and the surroundings. He couldn't help but be captivated.

As his eyes pursed the menu, his eyes occasionally drifted back to you, the beautiful woman behind the counter who caught his attention. The menu was filled with great dishes, each sounding more enticing than the last.

After a few minutes, he looked up and caught your gaze again. "I'll try the sobrasada brioche."

"Excellent choice." You write his order on your little notepad that you pulled from your back pocket and relay it to the kitchen.

"This is amazing." he beamed. "The texture adds a nice touch."

"I'm glad you like it." you chuckled as you handed a drink to another man who came and sat at the bar a few seats away.

"You know, I didn't catch your name, love. I'm Sanji." his eyes twinkled and he flashed you yet another radiant smile.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"And you as well, madam."

A blush creeped up on your cheeks. It was somewhat unusual to be called "love" and "madam". There was a certain charm to it that you couldn't deny.

"So Sanji, you're not from around here, are you?"

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, taking a second to answer. "My crew and I anchored here. I was looking around, trying to find ingredients for our meals, as I am the cook. But I couldn't resist the alluring aroma that was coming from this place. And I'm glad I didn't."

You opened your mouth to respond when a youngster from the kitchen came out looking for you. Excusing yourself from Sanji, you turned to the boy and allowed him to go on and talk.

He just wanted to get in extra hours and wondered where you could place him.

"Cool, thanks chef." he said after you two came to an agreement and went back between the double doors.

Sanji wasn't the one to eavesdrop but he couldn't help but hear that last part.

"Chef?" his eyes lit up when you turned in his direction again, referring to the title the boy gave you.

"That's me." you smiled proudly. "Well...sous chef."

"It's a pleasure to meet someone so beautiful and talented.

You nervously looked down at your hands. He was direct.

“Have any signature dishes?”

“Well,” you started. “I’m working on this dish.” You grabbed the plate off to the side that held the small entree to show him. ��It’s a lobster roll that I want to add for the seasonal brunch menu. It’s…not quite right yet.” you admitted with a bit of self-critique in your voice.

His eyes locked on the dish and he studied it intently and then brought his gaze back to you. "Mind if I try it?"

"Sure, go ahead."

He took a bite, his expression thoughtful as he savored the flavors. "It's exquisite. However, it is missing a certain...kick. And I'd be happy to help you, if you like."

You tossed the dish rag over your shoulder and put your weight on your forearms, leaning closer. "You? In my kitchen?"

Sanji smirked. "If you'll have me."

It was intriguing. He seemed genuine and he definitely had knowledge based on how he spoke and his reaction. You contemplated for a moment, weighing the potential benefits of having him help.

"Alright," you finally replied, with a playful glint in your eye. "But you're not getting paid."

After you instructed another member of the kitchen to watch the bar in your place and getting confused looks as Sanji followed your lead through the area, you both spent the next two hours working, experimenting with ingredients and techniques. He took control, and you let him. The prep area was a mix of different fixings. You worked diligently beside him, chopping the garlic like he asked, your hands moving in unison.

The garlic, along with some white wine vinegar, egg yolks, hot water, salt, olive oil, and spice, he drizzed the sauce (which had a mayo like consistency) onto the dish.

"It's a saffron aioli." Sanji described.

You took a bite. It definitly added flavor as well as color. With a touch of elegance.

"You're incredible!" you told him. "You should write a cookbook."

"Well, you know, a true artist never reveals his secrets. But, I could be talked into offering some private lessons." he replied, leaning against the counter with a mischievous look in his eye.

"Oh gosh." you groaned. "That was so cheesy."

He chuckled. He couldn't help but flirt. Of course, he thought you were gorgeous, but he also saw a lot of himself in you. Someone who seems to love food the way he does and the appreciation for little details.

"Sure."

Sanji blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Yes, I'll take you up on your offer."

He was a bit caught off guard. A woman has never given into his advances. He was always met with soft or harsh rejection everytime.

You knew he was being coy, but if he was actually serious, you could learn from him.

More like, you could learn from each other. What's the harm in that?

He smiled. "You won't regret it. Cooking is a pleasure that's meant to be shared."

The restaurant started to get busier, so you and Sanji had to wrap up the impromptu cooking session. It was time for him to go as well as the crew was probably wondering where he was at this point. On a napkin, you gave him a description of your house and how to find it with the plan to see each other again the following night. He put is safe in his pocket.

You said your goodbyes and Sanji went back met up with the crew again. He couldn't help but gush about the encounter he had at the restuarant. Luffy listened with interest, Zoro couldn't care less, and Usopp and Nami teased him.

The next morning, he found himself eagerly anticipating what was to come. Although Nami was the skilled navigator, she was also the avid shopping connoiseur and offered to helo Sanji find something suitable to wear.

She had an eye for fashion and wanted to make sure Sanji made the best impression possible. Together, they scoured the markets, looking for the perfect attire.

Sanji made his way to your house, per the instructions you provided. After hearing a soft knock on the door, you opened it swiftly. And there he stood.

Clad in a blue sweater and black pants, holding a bouquet of blue flowers to match, two loaves of french bread, with his blonde hair neatly covering his eye and signature cigarette in his mouth. He looked so adorable, you had to admit.

His eyes sparked in enthusiam, mixed with anticipation and hope that you would appreciate his effort.

"You clean up nicely." you complimented, inviting him in and taking the flowers and bread from him. "These are beautiful, thank you."

"My pleasure. Your outfit is nice too."

You look down at your regular ole tshirt and shorts then back at him. "Oh, it's just my usual." You weren't expecting anything fancy. But maybe that was just his style. "So, what do you have in mind?"

"Anything. Just tell me what you want."

At first, you didn't know what to expect from this "private lesson". You were a little nervous and were expecting to say no to anything you weren't comfortable with, if it came to that.

But the night seemed to fly by. The kitchen was productive and filled with laughter. You knew that in due time, Sanji would eventually leave with his crew, but it was nice to have an experience like this.

With the ingredients you had, Sanji managed to make a cigala fideua. A dish that consisted of prawn, baby squid, and garlic aoili served on top angelhair pasta. He was going to serve it with rice but the pasta was your idea. You also sauteed shishito peppers tossed with sea salt as a side dish.

"Mhmm, this is my new favorite thing in the world." you say, mouth full of deliciousness.

Sanji sits across from you at the table, a glass of wine in his hand, smiling at you.

"What?" you raise an eyebrow after you swallow.

He shrugged. "There's nothing better than watching someone enjoy food."

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

a/n: someone on tik tok said they had the sanji cookbook and posted pictures of it. it was there where i got the idea for his outfit.

from @/surogori8 on tik tok

#sanji x reader #sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #opla sanji #opla!sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #LOOK AT HIM #HE LOOKS SO BOYFRIEND

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charmsandtealeaves · 1 month

Text

Just Drink

Working on a few things tidied away in my writing vault. @jilymicrofics ☕☕☕☕ Read it on AO3.

James peered warily into the teacup that was being offered to him, holding his palms open to begrudgingly accept it. The amber-coloured liquid was murky, and if he was honest didn’t look very inviting - not what he had expected when Lily had offered to make him a cup of tea while they completed Professor McGonagall’s latest dastardly Transfiguration essay before bed. They’d secluded themselves in their shared head students’ space after doing their usual castle patrol. Lights out wasn’t for another hour and he was sure to snap grumpily at the excited chattering of the first years if they tried to finish in the Gryffindor common room.

“Do you want it or not Potter?” she asked, briskly.

“It’s got no milk in it,” he replied.

“It’s cinnamon tea. It’s not supposed to” She thrusted the cup into his palms.

“Personally, I’d go for an English Breakfast or Earl Grey,” James muttered, swirling the contents of his cup with one hand and letting spirals of steam waft up his nose.

The aroma was a blend of warmth, slight fruitiness, and almost vanilla-like. It reminded him of third year when he’d tried Divination for the supposedly easy grade until he and Sirius got themselves kicked out for smashing too many precious cups and saucers.

“You’re the one who's been complaining about feeling stiff all week thanks to Quidditch! It's good for you. Look here, read the packet if you don’t trust me.” Lily grabbed the small purple cardboard box off the kitchenette bench and tossed it at him, and he caught it swiftly in one hand despite the lackluster throw.

He had to admit she was right, he had been complaining about feeling stiff and sore. But their first match of the year was just a week away and the team needed all the practice they could get. James scanned the box description briefly.

Made from the inner bark of the cinnamon tree, and steeped in boiling water, Cinnamon tea is full of beneficial compounds that may offer various health benefits. These benefits include aiding weight loss, improving heart health, alleviating menstrual cramps, and reducing inflammation and blood sugar levels.

He could now understand why the girls from her dormitory were always coming in to raid Lily’s private herbal tea stash from the kitchenette. She had an entire cabinet full of boxes of various fruity concoctions she brought from home or bought from Madam Puddifoot's tea shop in Hogsmeade.

“I’m not PMSing Evans. I just have a twinge in my neck, that's all.” James scoffed.

“Keep reading, idiot,” Lily scolded. “It’ll loosen you up.”

“Drinking Cinnamon tea at night before going to bed helps relax tired muscles, build immunity, boost metabolism, and aid digestion - all this while you sleep peacefully!” James read aloud as he brought the cup to his lips and took a few cautious sips. The taste was slightly tangy but it wasn’t terrible.

“Could do with a bit of sugar,” he muttered.

“I already put a little honey in it for sweetness, you don’t need any more.”

“You tellin’ me I’m sweet enough Evans?” James responded coyly.

“Just drink your tea, you bellend.”

#charms library #jilymicrofics #jily #jple #james potter #lily evans #jily fic

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knebulanight · 1 year

Text

Stretched out my character design muscles by turning a bunch of my favorite* Pokémon into cute girls inspired by the original creatures.

(*Galarian Weezing and Clodsire aren't as high on the list as the rest, I just had some fun character design ideas for them, but everyone else is definitely my top 10)

Character names and short bios below the cut:

Glaceon (x2) | Firn & Mint | Duo magicians specializing in ice magic illusions and fantastic icicle displays, they're part of a band of performers.

Farigiraf | Zarifa | The curator of her own museum. She has a fondness for the old, dusty, magical, and especially cryptic.

Falinks | Hexa Semestre | Genius inventor, master of technology, immature brat, and super full of herself. Very much chaotic neutral, she's prone to nice and naughty acts alike, but it heavily depends on her mood and whoever is paying her with the tastier snacks.

Whirlipede/Scolipede | Latrielle | A high-ranking member of a secret evil organization. She specializes in taming and breeding dangerous beasts and insects with her unique charm and strange magicks.

Ribombee | Talis | A teeny tiny pollen collector and seller. Using her fairy intuition, she's able to tap into the mystical power of flower pollen, and turn them into a powerful healing substances and painting materials.

Sylveon | Pennon | An energetic acrobat who's part of the Glaceon Twins' performing troup. She also part-times as a candy shop clerk. Which candy shop, you ask? All of them.

Galarian Weezing | Madam Miasma | An eccentric perfume maker and wandering saleswoman. She shrouds herself with her own special perfumes. Her mood, methods, and prices dramatically shift with each kind of aroma.

Breloom | Boleta | An apothecary who lives by herself in the forest, studying mushrooms. She's learned the effects of many fungi breeds and their spores, and weaves them into her staff and self-defense fighting tactics.

Slither Wing | Dawn / "Daybreaker" | Professional wrestler in the evening, monster fighter in the morning. "Daybreaker" wakes up squarely at sunrise to fend off the daily influx of giant monsters that threaten her peaceful city.

Clodsire | Daisy | A simple lackadaisical young girl who's often seen prowling the marketplace, conversing with random passersby and indulging in free samples.

Wailord | Lady Duchess McGalleon | The only child, heir, and right hand to a canned plankton tycoon. While patiently waiting for her huge inheritance, she helps her father by overseeing the company's workers, always looming tall over them.

Typhlosion | Ignis Megaboom | She's always throwing herself into fights with no purpose, but her behavior is likely due to insecurities or something. The only time you'll see her exhibit patience is when she's charging up her explosive attacks.

bonus doodles & sketches, including some scrapped designs:

#pokemon gijinka #character design #art

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queen-of-scissors · 1 year

Note

Hello there 💧anon

I don’t know if you celebrate Christmas but if you feel comfortable with it could you write something post imposter au where the reader is forgiving and all and the reader wants to celebrate but is walking on eggshells and is scared to introduce anything new as to not anger the acolytes and lots of comfort

Merry Christmas or whatever you celebrate

İ. Must. Finish. This. Before. New year!!!!

Also i don't celebrate Christmas but i think i have a good understanding of the things thats done in it, so ill try my best ^^

İf i wrote something that sounds rude in anyway to any culture i apologise, feel free to correct me in the comments i love learning more about cultures :)

Happy Christmas or New year or Yule or whichever you celebrate :D ☃️❄️

masterlist

WARNİNGS: no specific gender, mentions of alcohol, angst with comfort, the reader is physically hurt in the flashback

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Memories of the snow.

________________________________________

The warm weather of Dragonspine slowly caresses your face.

İt wasn't supposed to be warm, but then again, a lot of the thing that you lived through wasn't supposed to happen at all. Maybe it's because it's supposed to be codes, You had to start to get used to that.

İt hurt to walk, but you can't stop yet. İf you don't find something edible soon you might pass out from exhaustion, which could make you an easy target for your... Hunters.

Just as you think about food, you realize a sweet aroma filling the air.

Ever since you got here, you have been unbelievably lucky, maybe whichever god that's up there pitied you, or maybe this is a trap.

Either way, you slowly walk up the path, hoping to find a hilichurl camp and not fatui ones as the nice smell is getting stronger.

You couldn't help but daydream about the food you might eat, it doesn't smell like regular Hilichurl meat, which doesn't even smell at all. Maybe it's 'goulash'? The food for Dragonspine that helps you to survive longer in the harsh wind. Though you don't really need it in this condition.

Maybe it's not red meat, it smells less strong for it, is it 'sweet Madame'? You always wanted to eat some ever since you fell here. You tried to recreate it but all you could do was eat chicken that tasted like grass.

As the smell is getting closer, you slowly begin to wake up.

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

"Your highness? Are you still resting?"

You opened your eyes, and your golden abode greets you once again.

The nightmare, no, the flashback felt so real. You could still feel the hunger in your stomach and the warmth of the food you were about to eat in the dream.

... Also the Sharp pain piercing through your right shoulder before you could even get your first bite.

"I apologize for disturbing you," the voice from the back of the door spoke up. "However we need to start your Schedule immediately, it is a busy day today"

Their voice was apologetic, kind even, but it still made your blood run cold by how assertive it felt over you.

"I'm up. İ will be out soon" you got up from the bed immediately as the voice started telling you what needs to be done today.

Your clothes were so uncomfortably comfortable. it was light and it wraps your body perfectly, which was the same exact reason why it felt like it got stuck on your skin. Which is why you didn't feel bad that you had to take them out.

You threw your clothes on your work table and your eyes got stuck on the calendar on it.

...oh it was New year already?

İt might not be in your own world, since time works differently between them. You wonder if it's snowing there? Perhaps it just started, or maybe the snow is thick enough to have a snowball fight.

You missed Earth. You really did. Even the times when it felt suffocating to live in sometimes. Even the times you were forced to have family dinners on occasion, well, those weren't that bad. You usually sat somewhere playing genshin when your family members scolded you for being on your phone.

Back then, you would kill for meeting your characters under the mistletoe.

... But now, maybe it's better not to meet them at all.

İts not that you are angry at them, you even forgive them after all that! They didn't know who you were after all, but you still feel like you are walking on a landmine every time you talk to them.

What if you say something or ask something that you are not supposed to, what then? They say that they have no reason to hurt you, but you learned that all of your current power is depending on your people the moment you set foot here.

You are nothing without your followers.

Your thoughts get cut off by the door opening once you finish getting dressed.

You are greeted by Tartaglia, who was smiling at you warmly, however, it looked so fake to you. You could almost picture him practicing in front of the mirror just so it looks friendly and approachable to you. You still appreciated the thought.

"Good morning, your Grace! Please excuse my sudden visit, I just needed to speak with you for a moment."

"...Of course," you decide to avert your eyes to the furniture, suddenly the numbers on the calendar seemed so interesting than whatever repent prayer he has for you.

He gets to his one knee, "oh, the all-loving and forgiving god of all gods, we are but merely weaklings under your strength, perhaps I ask too much, however... Err..." He stops and then continues.

"However i-"

"That..." You cut in a soft voice, you averted your eyes once you realized what you've done. "sorry I didn't mean to stop you I just..." you looked at him again "this doesn't sound like you at all."

You let go of the breath you didn't realize you were holding when Ajax laughs "Hahaha, is it that obvious that I practiced?"

His friendly voice eases your tension a bit. He continues with a more relaxed tone.

"İ didn't want to anger you more than I already have, and what I'm about to ask for might sound a bit selfish, so I asked Mr. Zhongli on how can I speak properly, without disrespecting you in any way." İt was his turn to avert his eyes now.

"...Why?"

Ajax looks back at you, confused "What do you mean, your Grace?"

"I already said I forgive all, what makes you think İ'm still angry?"

"...Well" Ajax gets up from where he was and attempts to fix his posture before continuing, "Forgive me if it's rude in any way, your holiness, however..."

"Your smile seems fake."

You freeze.

When he sees your expression, he turns back to Tartaglia again. The only-business part of himself. The cold one.

"İ know what we've done is unforgivable. You are truly the most kind to not even want us to witness your wrath. but please, no need to fake it to make us feel better."

They think that you are still mad, while you are just afraid.

You want to tell them. You want to explain and talk about it, but you can't even bring yourself to open your mouth.

Why are you still afraid? War is already over. They need to know that too!

So be it. İf you can't bring yourself to talk about that. Maybe you can prove to them you are not mad by showing them.

"...let's talk about that later. What did you need from me?"

He looks at you "ok then, uh... its almost time for the festival in Shneznaya, we do that at every start of the year to celebrate- uhh, you might already know,

İ won't be personally attending, of course! Someone needs to protect you~" he winks "But, my siblings are a bit hard to convince. They want to spend time with me and well..."

"Do you want to go?"

Tartaglia laughs again "I won't lie and say that I don't miss my homeland. But that's not why I'm here."

He smiles a bit, you swore you could see his eyes light up a little, but it's gone as soon as you saw it, it might just be the sun playing tricks on you.

"My siblings want to spend the holiday with me. İ know it's selfish of me to ask to bring children to such a holy place-"

"You can bring them."

He turns his head towards you as soon as you let those words get past your lips, "Realy?"

You think about it. They are just children, they can't really harm you. Plus it might be even nice hearing about the holidays.

"Yeah! İt would be nice to have children at the dinner table. İt might even help release tension caused by my presence." You thought out loud.

He catches up on that.

"You would be pretty anxious too if you were at a table with your god~" he teased.

You smiled, and Ajax could suddenly feel his numb heart all over again.

"Maybe you are right, thank you. Ajax"

Ajax didn't answer. You called for him but he looks at you like how a reindeer would look at the car flash.

"OH SHİ- AJAX BREATH!!!!"

________________________________________

You were wrong.

Now that you feel less scared of the things around you, you can finally see that your acolytes feel somewhat worse.

Your grand dinner table was decorated with the customs of the Shneznayan festival. İt was a beautiful combination of white, red, green, and Gold. İt was almost the same as Christmas in your own world, the only difference was instead of the big decorated tree, there was a statue of you.

That, and your acolytes looking at their plate in shame, as if seeing even a piece of your hair is sacrilege.

Even with their close proximity, Archons were still the least close to you in terms of emotions. Their usual chattiness from in-game voice lines was long gone, you were sure you could even make Zhongli eat seafood in this state of his mind.

The gods were, of course, sitting closest to you. Usually, no one else joins you on your meals but on occasion, some people are invited over just because of formalities. Even then, your guests sit at another table, which is far away from you but in a place where you can still see their faces.

Not in this situation though. You especially requested that they dine with you at the same table. Making Tartaglia the Target of the glares tonight.

This heavy atmosphere makes you feel like you made a mistake. Maybe you shouldn't talk about it and treat it as a normal dinner, hearing about your world might make them feel worse, and if it gets worse-

"Your highness!!! Look what I drew!"

You look at Teucer. He is holding a drawing he made of you.

You feel everyone holding their breath as you gently take the drawing from his hands. Will you think of it as blasphemy?

İn the drawing, you hold his hand and someone else's hand while all three of you fly through, what seems to be, Shneznaya's City... İn the arms of a ruin guard.

"This is so nice Teucer! Thank you so much!"

Teucer lets out an excited gasp, "You know my name?!"

"Of course! İ know a lot of things" you smiled warmly and looked at his other siblings "I also know about Tonia and Anthon!"

As the kids look at each other all excitedly, the room suddenly seems a little bit lighter.

"Yes, the Creator knows everything indeed!" Ajax tells them. "They also know when you don't eat your greens and that makes them sad you know~"

"You guys don't eat your vegetables?" You play along "but I created them for you"

Tonia stutters "b-but... They don't taste good!"

Anthon joins in "But you ALSO created fish! So we can eat those!"

You laugh, they are pretty smart, huh!

"Well, I have nothing to say to that! Please eat as much as you like from whatever you like today!"

The children go back to their meals as the table falls silent once more,

Until you hear a mouse squeak in the crowd.

"Your highness did you just laugh?!" Venti partially screams, with that voice, you understand that the mouse was him all along.

"Barbatos, have some manners!" Zhongli suddenly speaks "Did you forget where you might be, or shall I remind you?"

"your laugh sounds so refreshing, your Grace! Like pure water in the middle of a desert!" Sais Nahida, clearly happy for you!

"AHEM, might I remind you all that this sudden outburst can scare them?" Tsaritsa states politely.

"But we never heard them laugh! I think this deserves a celebration!" Venti says while getting up "İM GETTİNG THE VİNE!!!"

"Stop! There are children here!" Childe gets up to stop him.

"İ- uhm, it's really not that big of a deal?" You say softly.

"Please don't mind those idiots, your grace." Tsaritsa shoots a glare across the table. "They simply can't control their emotions, however, I must say, even though it is rare for me to actually agree with that drunkard, I also believe that this calls for a celebration."

Nahida continues before you could say anything "I also agree! İt's been a while since we heard your laugh again. A celebration for the bird, that has found its voice once again!"

"Speaking of the Celebration, is anything particular about this festival that made you want to open up to us again?" Falcuar asked.

"Oh yeah! Why is this cooolldd festival but not a better one? Like the wind-"

Venti was silenced by two very angry gods, and forced to sit down on his chair again.

"Well? Tell us!" The god of Pyro beamed.

And at that moment, after months and months of convincing, you finally felt safe enough to show emotions. Which made you feel all of them at the same time and...

"YOUR HOLİNESS-"

"İt's ok," Nahida smiled gently "please let it all out, you don't need to stop yourself from feeling anymore."

"I swear if you make a reference to pooping about it I will-"

"Hehehe, as you wish!"

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

You finally let go of -most- of your fears and told them more about the traditions in your world.

They finally understand your point of view. They approach you gently now.

Nahida suggested babyproof your abode so you don't feel any accidental physical pain that reminds you of those times. İt's up to you to accept or not.

The bubbly types try not to do sudden things that May scare you (Yoimiya even tries to find a way to make soundless fireworks (failed))

And most of all, people don't beg for forgiveness every time they see you now!

However, you couldn't stop them from celebrating this day as the day of your smile. They give presents to each other as a way to bring a smile to their, and your, face. They also stole some of the traditions in your world just so it makes you feel more at home.

They hope that you will smile and be happy the next year as well :)

❄️🎉Happy New year, creator!!!🎉❄️

827 notes · View notes

acupofqueercoffee · 11 months

Text

“Messages for her, hidden in the flowers”

𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

▸ 𝐘𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬

▸ 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐬

▸ 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬, 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬

▸ 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 : 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞

SMUT INCOMING!!! i’m sad to say this ain’t my greatest smut tho 😭

@theregoesyourlifeagain @winterfireblond @weemssapphic

On the morning of Sunday, a parcel arrives to the doorstep of your floral boutique; an elegant box, rosy in colour and rectangular in shape; beautifully wrapped with a long red ribbon that flourishes into a big bow atop the velveteen lid.

You could not believe it when your name has reached your ears in the voice of the delivery person. Even when they have asked for your signature, you were still in scepticism. It is only when a perfumed card greets you upon unravelling the ribbon are you convinced that yes, you are indeed the recipient of such sweet surprise.

[ 𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒,. 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒸𝓎. 𝐼’𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃,. 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼’𝓋𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊. ] — 𝐿.𝒲

Short as it is, the lovely note that has warmth blooming inside your chest has served as a little window into your partner for the night. Once again, you learn that Larissa Weems is an outrageous flirt, an enchantress, a woman who is capable of ruining you with the first strokes of her pen. She certainly is a woman of poise for even in her handwriting, her grace and sophistication can be easily perceived. Neat would be an understatement to describe the cursive. Fine, decidedly, but not quite the word you are looking for. The words that your eyes have been voraciously consuming are teeming with allure, spellbinding in the same way the wordsmith is.

The lettering is not entirely without flaws for there are dots where there should not be, although you suppose that is what gives it character. It is, after all, not just any note, but rather a note from her. You can just imagine those mesmerisingly long fingers pausing mid sentence to let her mind wander. You hope rather stupidly, selfishly that it is you whom her mind has wandered off to as you usually find yours behaving the same way towards her.

A tentalising trace of fragrance that delightfully teases your nose as the card moves with your hand is so unequivocally her, and the realisation that it does not come scented, but rather the perfume has been intentionally sprayed onto the paper, undoubtedly by the woman herself, sprinkles your cheeks with cherry redness. Accompanying the busy buzz of your pulse is a goofy smile that slithers across your lips, and a giggle that bubbles in your throat, all gleeful and childlike.

Your eyes then are drawn towards, as she has mysteriously put it, the little something she has prepared for you. Neatly tucked into the velveteen box is a dress in the mellowest hue of pearly pink. It shimmers in the light, and when you touch it, the satin is so soft that it easily slips through your fingers. The dress, once it has been donned, is equally smooth against your skin, not too tight yet not too loose, caressing your body in all the right places.

Resting atop the folded dress as it has been, the faint scent of her perfume lingers on the smooth satin. With the charming aroma comes a tingling rush of memories: a bold hand on your hip, a sticky press of her painted lips as she gives you a chaste farewell kiss on the cheek. Such is how the two of you have parted after your little impromptu brunch not-quite-a-date.

Moreover, when you have expressed your cluelessness to the location of the Nevermore Academy, gracious Madam Principal has happily offered to come collect you. You, of course, have had no reasons to turn down her proposal. Getting to spend even more time with her on top of passing the night on her arms is like being able to have your cake and be eating it too.

And now, you stand, all dolled up and jolly, before the woman who puts renaissance sculptures to shame. Her sapphire gaze is searing as she eyes you interestingly, not even bothering an attempt to hide her staring. Unable to tame your wildly beating heart, you instead make a gesture at your attire.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to.” She gives you a smile, all warm and knee-weakening. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, I love it.” And then, more sheepishly, you confess. “I’m only afraid that I’m not doing it any justice.”

“Nonsense!” Her response is immediate, adamant, arrestingly long legs moving methodically, and before you know it, she is standing so close to you. “You look positively ravishing.”

Her eyes then descend upon the bouquet between the two of your bodies. The flowers for today are red carnations and white clovers. As you realise that your attraction towards her is not something that will simply go away with time, you are getting bolder with your secret messages.

“Flowers for you.”

“Oh darling, you continue to warm my little anthophile heart. Thank you.”

To say you are brimming with warmth as she takes the bouquet into her arms with a hearty smile would be an understatement.

“Well, shall we?”

All too gladly, you take her hand when she offers it. As usual, her fingers are protected by a glove, and the leather is as luxuriously soft as you remember.

The better part of the ride is spent in comfortable silence, with you appreciating the woody scenery as music from the radio plays softly in the background. Every now and then, you can hear her humming along to the songs that she recognises. It makes you smile.

“I’m curious, how do you know my size?”

“Well darling,…” Her response begins with a mirthful lilt. “…let’s just say I do have a keen eye for detail.”

The implication that she must have taken a good look at your body to notice such finer details makes you melt, a feeling equal parts pleasure and excitement consuming you as the apple of your cheeks turns a vibrant red.

I’m starving, darling. Let me put my lips to something…

Suddenly comes the low timbre of Hozier, and along with a sudden dryness in your mouth, pure unholy thoughts run amok around your mind. Fire meets gasoline once you peek a look at the woman beside you, and catch sight of a pink tip of a tongue caressing the full arch of her lips. Needless to say, the rest of the ride, too, is spent in silence, but with you doing your damnedest not to let your mind in the gutter.

The Nevermore Academy truly is one of breathtaking beauty. As soon as the vehicle enters the school grounds, you are awestruck by its gothic architecture. Once parked, your partner does not lead you straight to where the festivities are, but rather, she takes you to her office that you quickly discover is as magnificent as the rest of the Academy, otherworldly and grandiose as befits the majesty of the headmistress.

After she has invited you into her dwelling, you cannot help but take a moment to marvel at the beauty and uniqueness of the fireplace. In the silence of the room save for the soft crackling of fire eating wood, a hand soon finds you on your shoulder, and when you turn, it lingers, ghosting along the length of your arm to eventually, gently take your hand in hers. The touch of smooth leather on the little hummingbird flutter of your pulse is rather electrifying as lithe fingers go to lace a ribbon across your wrist.

It is a little bouquet in the form of a bracelet.

“Not as remarkable as your lovely gifts, but-”

“Nonsense.” You shush her with a hand on her wrist, holding her gentle gaze. “Whatever you give me, I’ll treasure it.”

And suddenly, the beauty of the moment is disrupted by the loud ringing of a telephone. Apparently, there is an emergence of something that requires the presence of the principal.

Together, the both of you exit her office, and together, you walk abreast along the corridors of the enchanting academy. It is only when you have reached the ballroom that she leaves you alone with a tentalisingly sultry “I won’t be long, darling.”

You spend the entirety of the time wishing for Larissa to be here, but once she is, you wish she has not seen you. Having been requested a dance from someone, you have agreed when you think time will past by more quickly if you occupy yourself with something. You have been none the wiser to the look on their face; if you have, you would have noticed that it is the same look you have donned when the white-haired goddess has graced your little shop with her holy presence for the very first time. However, by the time lips touch your cheek and steal from you a kiss, you are more chilled by the familiar presence than bothered by the gesture itself.

Then, your eyes meet icy blue and your world crumbles.

You do your best to untangle yourself from whosever arms you are currently trapped in to follow after the woman of your dreams. She is fast on her legs, and there is urgency in your steps as you try to reach her. When you do, she is already in her room. Anxious and desperate, you forgo your manners, and without bothering to knock, you follow her in.

“What you saw. I- It wasn’t-”

“I don’t blame you. I’ve been but a terrible partner. You deserve to have fun.”

“It’s not fair. I didn’t want to be with them. I wanted- I want to be with you.”

It is the truth. It has always been the truth. All you have desperately wanted as you were locked in a waltz with another has been for the hand holding your waist to be Larissa’s and the breath caressing your face to be Larissa’s.

Tears begin to pool in your eyes. You hate that about yourself. You hate that you tend to cry once frustration strikes. It has always rendered you unable to prove your point in the midst of a case.

“I know, darling. I know.” Her voice when it caresses your ear is understanding, placating. She has carried herself to where you are standing, catching a stray tear when it trickles down your cheek. “Tulips, camellias. Now, carnations and clovers. I’ve gained myself quite the romantic, it seems.”

Your cheek is cradled in her palms, still not gloveless you realise. Gingerly, she tilts your head to initiate the collision of your gazes. “I think of you, oh how I think of you. You burn so bright in my heart that bone, flesh and marrow, oh, my entire being is but fuel for my longing for you.” There is fire in her icy blue eyes, and it burns, oh how it burns, reducing you to a mushy mess.

And then,

And then you kiss her, or rather, you try. Too high on the tree has the cherry ripened that you are unable to reach it. So, you stand on tiptoe to capture the delightfully succulent fruit into your mouth. A kiss on those beautifully ripened lips, and oh, they taste all the more delectable than you have imagined they would as you sigh dreamily into her mouth. It is the need to breathe that forces you apart, yet your faces remain only a whisker away.

Your wish to have her hands on your waist is fulfilled when they fit perfectly into the curve of your hips. She laughs, lovely and throaty, as a short little gasp spills forth your lips. The woman has picked you up effortlessly with all the grace of a warlord who has conquered the world. It is on her desk that she sits you down, hands remaining unmoving, thumb lazily tracing the bones of your hip.

“Hence the camellias and salvias?”

“As it turns out,” She puts on a tempting show of biting the gloves off her hands, and when a naked palm cups your cheek, electricity sparks. “I’m quite the flower aficionado myself. Your messages were not lost on me.”

She steals the breath out of your lungs with the kiss that she bestows upon you. It is as beautiful as it is erotic, as gentle as it is ravenous. Teeth nibbling lips and tongues locked in an embrace, she devours you with an intensity so mighty that her mouth on your lips alone has liquid lava pooling in your stomach.

Your legs press together and your back arches, a whimper dripping down your lips when blossoms of kisses branch off to your neck. Mouth messy with lipstick stains, and lips kiss-swollen, your neck likewise is being peppered with markings in the shape of her lips in the shade of a delirious red. And then, she sucks, right on the spot where your little pulse is throbbing ferociously, tonguing your flesh until it is all rosy and raw.

“I like you in the dress dearest, but I think I’d fancy it more when it’s off your body.” The movement of her lips against your skin is silky smooth as a surreptitious crawl of fingers on the back of your body gently tease the zip.

“Can I?” She asks with a kiss to the tip of your nose, and you are but a scoop on a cone, melting under the heat of her stare, murmuring, “Please. It’s no secret anymore that I long for you desperately.”

She unravels you as though you are a present to be cherished. Lusciously full lips savour every inch of skin that is bared to those blazing blue eyes. The attention with which she showers your breasts once you are bare is dizzying, the apex of your thighs dripping wet in a frenzy of desire, lips falling open in a breathless gasp in the face of those bone-melting, toe-curling deeds. There is a featherlight sensation of fingers climbing up the length of your thigh, the feeling becoming a little more tangible by the time they disappear into the waistband of your underwear.

“Nghh!” A mewl dissolves on your tongue when fingers wander into your coarse little curls. No sooner has the throbbing little bundle of nerves been unearthed than it is taken between two digits to be gently pinched and rolled.

Meanwhile, the parting of her mouth from the swell of your breast is accompanied by a web of saliva that glistens in the dim light, along with a send-off by a constellation of artworks that riddles your skin in varying shades of red. A hand then finds home on your thigh to open your legs that little bit more, her gaze on yours arrestingly blue, admiring the frenzied little up and down of your chest as air leaves your lips in quick huffs and puffs.

She is a woman of majestic size in every aspect of her body, rendering you delirious even in your state of dewiness by the time a finger sinks into the tight heat of your core. Immediately, there blooms a little bruised feeling that brings tears to your eyes. Although the appearance of your hand on her forearm, and the clenching of fingers into the front of her blouse are more a mean of reassurance than resistance, movement seizes inside you. You can feel the finger amidst the pulsating of your folds, barely a knuckle deep.

Simultaneously, the little furrow in your brow is chased away by lips that thereupon press a kiss onto your lips. “Am I being too demanding?”

Fingers tightening around her forearm in order to keep her fingers where they are, you offer her a shake of your head. “No. No, I can take it.”

“Good girl.” Another press of lips on the apple of your cheek, a syrupy peck. “My sweet angel.”

Your body, bare and riddled with love-bites and lipstick stains, is all but hidden by the imposing frame that is looming over you. Currently, she is not one but three knuckles deep inside you, hitting that deliriously delicious spot that makes you arch like a cat. You are but an offering to your beloved goddess as she takes and takes and takes from you in whichever way she sees fit.

And then, there is a knock on the door, and the culprit of the noise is inviting themselves in without being given permission to do so.

“Uhm Principal Weems?”

Straightening back into her full glorious height, she makes sure that you are entirely invisible to the second pair of eyes.

“What is it?”

“Has anyone ever come knocking on your doors?”

Her fingers, all the while, remain buried in the dewy depths of your core, memorising every curve, dip, and dimples of your perfectly swollen folds. With a mischievous tilt to her lips, she does a wicked little nudge that sends your eyes heavenward. A strangled little whisper is barely contained at the cost of your lips being taken hostage by your teeth.

“I’m afraid you’re the only one.”

“Strange. I thought I saw them going this way.”

Uncaring of their blather, she continues to bombard your cunt with sweet, scrumptious assaults. With a hand on your hip, she shifts your body a certain way, and oh as her finger plunges into the lowest of the lows, you reach a height that has never been reached before, fireworks exploding in your vision, back bending into a delicious arch, toes curling and fingers clenching into her attire as you are thoroughly claimed by your goddess.

Once your muscles have relaxed around her finger, her hand leaves from between your thighs in accompany with a warm rush of liquid that oozes out of your cunt. There are translucent strings of juices, your juices, spiderwebbing between her fingers, and lord are they delectably wet, implanting in you a need to suck them into your mouth.

There is a hitch to her breath when you wrap your fingers around her wrist to bring a hand to your mouth, doing an experimental lick along the thick girth of her finger before closing your lips around two of them, tracing every ridge of bone with the velveteen tip of your tongue, tasting yourself while you clean your woman with great reverence. In the midst of it all, you have your doe-eyed gaze, that starts blurring with tears once her fingertips brush against the back of your throat, on the irresistible blue of her eyes.

“If that’ll be all, you’re excused.”

“Ah, right.”

As soon as a click signifies the departure of the intruder, she is all over you, plucking your chin between forefinger and a thumb to make a descent onto your lips, nails, coral pink and neatly-trimmed, digging into the swell of your cheek as she licks into your mouth with an untamed hunger. She savours your taste on your tongue, and the moan that she breathes out elicits a moan of your own.

“This should suffice, for now. Next time, it’ll be from the source that I sample you, little florist of mine.”

Next time, she says. There will be a next time.

A delicate kiss is planted onto the arch of your nose while a finger traces a miscellany of vibrant blooms making a delicious mess of your chest. A look of pride and admiration can be seen plain as day on the valleys and planes of her face.

The curve of her cheek, with its baby-pink tinge and velveteen looking peach-fuzz calls out to you, and you happily give in to your urge, reaching out a hand to feel it gently beneath your fingertip. Like a uniquely made bracelet, her fingers are snug around your wrist, holding you as you delicately thumb the bone of her cheek. Only when you are satisfied does she escort your hand to her lips, dropping a sweet blossom of a kiss atop every one of your knuckles.

Wings sprout from your heart, sending the jolly little thing soaring into the sky. The glee of which only increases tenfold when your eyes catch the little flowery bracelet on your wrist; red camellias can be translated into you’re a flame in my heart whereas blue salvias says i think of you.

What a delightful answer to your bouquet of red carnations and white clovers.

And thus, your night is spent in absolute contentment, dying a little death at the hands of your white-haired goddess, with the delightful knowledge that your longing for her is very much reciprocated.

#larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #principal larissa weems #character x reader #gwendoline christie x reader #gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #fanfic #florist #flowers

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meanlesbean · 4 months

Text

Here, have 1,400 words of Majora's Mask angst. inspired by a conversation with @gintrinsic-writing about Link having to pick and choose who to help on the final cycle. I'll put this on my ao3 in a few days when I think of a title. (Edit: better ao3 version up now)

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On the afternoon of the final day, the Milk Bar is empty.

Madame Aroma won’t arrive for another few hours. In twenty minutes, one of the members of the town guard will show up, but he won’t stay long. He’ll order one of the special drinks that Mister Barten won’t let Link try, chug it all in one big gulp, and then lay his head down on the counter to weep quietly for four and a half minutes. When he’s finished crying, he’ll ask for a shot of something off the top shelf—surprise him, just this once. Then, after his last drink, he’ll shake Mister Barten’s hand, put his helmet back on, and leave.

Unlike some of the other guards, he won’t abandon his post. When the moon falls and swallows the world, he’ll bear witness to the end from his station at the town entrance.

Right now, it’s just Link and Tatl at the counter. Mister Barten is sweeping up on the stage, and he’s got the phonograph playing some soft piano music instead of the usual Indigo-Go’s songs, which Link is grateful for. Mister Barten isn’t as talkative as he usually is, but Link hasn’t been able to figure out if it’s because it’s the final day or if it’s because Link won’t talk himself. Either way, it’s quiet. The nice kind of quiet too, unlike the Stock Pot Inn, which gets creepy after Anju and her family evacuate. Even with everyone gone, the floorboards don’t stop creaking.

It’s a good place for thinking and planning. That’s the most important thing left for him to do.

Or at least, that’s what Link thinks. Tatl has other ideas.

“Are you going to squeeze in an afternoon nap or what?” She buzzes around him like an insect. Link’s adrenaline from the battle against Twinmold had worn off by the time they got back to Clock Town, but Tatl always takes longer to settle after a fight. She lands on the counter to take a small sip of her Chateau Romani, kindly poured into the smallest shot glass in the bar by Mister Barten, and then flies a few more laps around his head. “If you don’t go to bed soon, you won’t be rested before the reset, and I know you’ll stay up with Romani instead of sleeping the next night. I don’t want to be rescuing my brother while you’re in one of your moods.”

Link waves a hand out to get her to stop circling. He gives her a pointed look and then taps the end of his pencil against his open bomber's notebook twice. It’s a portion of his records of the first day, near illegible now with how much information he’s crammed onto the pages. That’s why he’s got a few clean sheets of paper ripped out and put to the side. If this is really the final reset, he can’t afford to waste time with indecision.

“Huh?” Tatl says. She floats over the notebook to examine it, washing out the pages in her golden light. She flutters and makes an annoyed chiming noise. “What are you getting at now? There can’t be anything else to add on here. You’ve stalked everyone in Termina long enough already.”

Link shakes his head and holds out his hand. Tatl lands on his palm, her magic tickling at his skin like the sparks from a light arrow, and he lifts her up to his shoulder. His posture relaxes as soon as she sits, the warm buzz of her magic trickling down through his chest and back. An ache he hadn’t noticed in his upper back disappears. It still feels a little weird sometimes, having her nestled in the crook of his neck. The first time her wing had brushed against his neck, he’d almost hit her on reflex, and she didn’t talk to him for the whole day after. Navi had always preferred to perch on top of his head.

On one of the clean pages, Link lists out all the hours, from six o’clock to five o’clock the next morning. He repeats this for the next page. For the last one, he adds an extra hour at the end and draws the moon and its hungry maw. Next, he circles Romani’s name in his notebook. On his new timetable, he writes her name between the hours of two and five in the morning.

He knows that Tatl understands because he feels her go still, then huddle closer to him. Still, he flips through the notes he’s taken, over two dozen pages, for emphasis. Some of his notes are about the temples—he hadn’t made it through the Snowhead or Great Bay temples on his first attempts—but even excluding those, there’s too much.

Tatl doesn’t speak. In his notebook, Link sees Pamela’s name, and he circles it like he’d done for Romani. When he looks at his timetable though, he pauses. He and Tatl have restored the flow of the Ikana creek and healed Pamela’s father three times: once very late into the night of the second day, once in the morning of the first day, and once more in the evening of the first day. From what Link can tell, Pamela doesn’t sleep well when her father is cursed, and that means Link can free her father at any time.

Pamela needs her father. He knows that, even if he doesn’t fully understand it. She’s young and scared and alone, and Link shouldn’t make her wait. When he looks at the blank time slots of the first day though, all he can see is dozens of other things he needs to do. If he’s going to reunite Anju and Kafei, he needs to spend the afternoon in Clock Town so can talk to Anju. And while he’s in town, it only makes sense for him to help the Great Fairy and go solve the argument in the mayor’s office. He should free at least one of the Giants on that first day too—he can make his way through the temples pretty quickly now, but he couldn’t rush the battles against the beasts holding the Giants captive. Potions and fairies don't work as well when he doesn't sleep. He’d learned the hard way that one little mistake in those battles could take him hours to recuperate from.

His hand holding the pencil is frozen above the paper. Link stares at the blank pages.

He feels Tatl release a tiny, quivering breath. Her wings flicker against him a few times as she leans forward. “Okay. We’re not going back to the Stone Tower on the first day. I need a break from that horrible place, and you need to get at least some sleep before going there again. You can take a nap in Romani’s bed, or in Epona’s stall since you’re a little freak, after we defend the ranch. We’ll go to Ikana and free Pamela’s dad and the Giant afterwards. Got it?”

Link nods and picks up the pencil. He gives himself two hours to sleep, then blocks off the rest of the morning for fixing Ikana. Tatl lets out a little ringing noise in approval, then says, “So, we’re going through the whole ordeal of getting Anju and Kafei back together, right?” He nods again. “Okay, then write Anju’s name in the two and eleven thirty times slots.” He does. “We need to go to the ranch and talk to Romani at some point during the day. Let’s do that at five so we can stay for dinner. We can go to the cucoo shack before eating too. Helping Grog always makes you smile.”

Link puts down the pencil. Before Tatl can scold him, he brings his hand up to where she's perched, and he closes his eyes and presses her closer against him. Tatl shifts a bit, and then she wraps both her small arms around his hand. He trembles, and she doesn’t say anything.

She lets him hold her like that for a minute before she starts pushing him away. “Move your hand, would ya? I can’t read anything like this.”

Link pulls away from her and picks up the pencil again. Tatl pats his shoulder. It feels like raindrops. “Okay, let’s finish filling in the first day. You ready?”

When Link nods, it's the truth.

“Good. We’ve got this.”

Link believes her.

#majora's mask #loz fanfic #legend of zelda #legend of zelda fanfiction #loz fic #my fic

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