#I think there’s one book in my currently reading that I’ve actually picked up in the past month

[bisexual-kelsier]

Maybe it’s time I DNF the books I’ve been “reading” for half a year and pick up something new…

[im-subtextsexual]

I’m glad so many people picked up on the vibes between Eloise and Cressida. Not a ship I ever considered before, but the tension was palpable. I’ve been a Queer Eloise truther since reading the books. Her portrayal on the show only made it more obvious in my mind. I didn’t think the writers would ever go there, but the set up is just so explicit, now I’m not sure. I don’t think they’d actually make Eloise / Cressida canon, but I do think they’re testing the waters for wlw Eloise. And it makes perfect sense. 

First off, the character is queer (I’ll hold off from labeling her a lesbian outright, because there’s definitely room for other identities like bi, demi, ace…. etc.) Even in the books. I legitimately think Julia Quinn accidentally wrote a sapphic character and then didn’t know what to do with her. So what we got is “To Sir Phillip, With Love”, widely considered to be one of the worst in the series. Believe me, if there’s any story that could stand to deviate from the books, it’s this one. And the story could so easily be adapted to a wlw romance, it would be a wasted opportunity not to do it. Like… the story would be better if they tweaked it to fit a queer canon. AND it could be done in a historically accurate way to shut up the naysayers that “a lesbian storyline wouldn’t fit in this universe.” How? Allow me to explain.

*SPOILERS FOR BRIDGERTON SERIES BOOK 5*

In the book, Eloise strikes up a correspondence with Sir Phillip Crane. Yes, THAT Phillip, the one currently married to Marina from season 1&2. Marina kills herself because she can’t stand to be married to Phillip and deal with their children in the wake of her lover / his brother’s death. His initial interest in Eloise is to find a mother for his children. She is intrigued by his intelligence and decides she doesn't want to be alone, but isn’t necessarily eager to marry or have a family. Due to romance novel shenanigans, she runs away to Phillip's house and is forced to marry him. Even as they grow to kind of love each other, it's far from some grand romance. It’s the very definition of “settling”. The most interesting part is the narrative structure of their story being told through letters in the beginning. We could keep all that, but make it gay. 

*Imagine*

Eloise meets some dapper gentlemen new to the marriage mart. We’ll call him Emmett. Very little is known about Emmett and his family as they keep largely to themselves at their estate in the countryside. The only thing that’s widely known is the family suffered a tragic accident where the man of the house and his oldest daughter died, leaving his son (the other twin) to take on the responsibility of rank and title very early. Emmet is making a rare appearance in London to find a wife (there are rumors of stipulations in his inheritance requiring a match). ALL the debutantes are fawning over him because he’s mysterious and extraordinarily good-looking. One might even say “pretty”… To everyone’s great surprise the season’s most eligible bachelor takes a special interest in Eloise after overhearing her talking about her disdain for the social convention of marriage, and how she would only consider it if it were an in-name-only, marriage of convenience. Emmett strikes up a conversation with Eloise and she is taken by his humor, wit and shockingly deep empathy for the limitations society puts on women. They continue to gravitate to each other through the first few events of the season, but Emmett has to return home suddenly because of a family emergency. Eloise is shocked to find herself disappointed, but they promise to write. Cue the correspondence romance.

Eloise grows more and more smitten with Emmett every letter she receives, but still has the same reservations about marriage especially when she thinks of the intimacy a relationship like that would require. When Emmett hints that he may want more than friendship, Eloise's feelings get the better of her and she goes to visit Emmett unannounced. He is shocked to see her, but let's her stay and she gets to know his mother and two younger sisters. The Bridgertons go looking for Eloise, worried something has happened to her. When she is found to have been staying for days in an unwed man's home without a chaperone, the potential scandal causes Anthony to force Eloise and Emmett to marry. Surprisingly, Emmett actually agrees so Eloise does too (all of this is essentially what happens in the book).

Eloise confesses to Emmett that she's nervous/resistant to physical intimacy, but he assures her they never have to be together that way. In fact, he would prefer the marriage of convenience they always talked about. Eloise is relieved until their kiss at the wedding sparks an attraction she wasn't expecting. They spend the first month or so of their marriage sleeping in separate rooms, enjoying each other's company, and letting the tension build. One night, Eloise's control and curiosity finally snaps and she goes to Emmett's room to initiate a physical relationship. She catches Emmett off guard in his sleeping clothes which makes it VERY clear... Emmett is a woman (cliffhanger of episode 4, and where we deviate from book canon to make it queer).

After the initial shock, Eloise allows her new "husband" to explain. Emmett is really Emma, the daughter believed to have died in a carriage accident with her father so many years ago. It was her twin brother that actually died, but since there were no other male heirs, Emma's family fortune would have gone to a distant uncle who is cruel and abusive. To save them of that fate, Emma's mother conspired with the local coroner to make it look like Emma was the one who died, so "Emmett" could inherit everything. Emma has been living as Emmett ever since, successfully keeping up the deception by keeping a low profile in society. The only reason Emma came to London that year is because her uncle died, and a cousin had come around asking questions hoping to inherit. She thought getting married would help secure her identity as Emmett and the cousin would back off. At first Eloise is outraged. She feels betrayed by Emma's duplicity, and is terrified if any of this ever got out everyone they know would be ruined forever. She agrees to keep the secret to save her family's reputation, but shuns Emma. Eventually, Emma (already aware that she's in love with Eloise) attempts to make amends and Eloise is charmed enough that she relaxes back into the relationship they had before the Big Reveal. The only problem is the attraction is still there, even more so now that Eloise knows the truth. Things come to a head, and they go at it Bridgerton style.

Emma and Eloise live happily in a true marriage for a bit until Cressida and Penelope come for a visit. They both find out about Emma, but are sworn to secrecy. Pen easily swears her loyalty (having already suspected Eloise), but Cressida is sickened. In a rage, she threatens to out them all, and storms back to London. Eloise follows her and begs Cressida to keep the secret, and tries to explain why the "wrong" feelings she has for Emma are very right for her. To Eloise's surprise, Cressida isn't upset about what she's doing with Emma, but who she's doing it with. She didn't know what they're doing was an option; that she was an option. Cressida confesses that if she'd known a life with Eloise was a choice she could make, it's the life she would have chosen. Eloise lets Cressida down easy by explaining they didn't have that choice. Everyone in the ton knows who they are. The only reason her relationship with Emma works is because of the ruse that allows Emma to be Emmett. Cressida takes this in stride, and vows to keep the secret, but her mother overhears and causes the biggest scandal London Society has ever seen.

The Bridgertons and a few friends (like Lady Danbury) are as understanding as possible, but the rest of the ton is rabid. Things escalate to the point where Emma and Eloise have to appear before the Queen. Emma pleads her case about pretending to save her family, and insists that Eloise didn't know until well after they were married so she's innocent. Eloise can't help herself and gets on her soapbox about the way society limits women, and that the Queen should understand their plight. Shockingly, she does. She annuls their "marriage" (because they didn't consummate anything... RIGHT?!) but she agrees to let Emma control her family's estate until one of her sisters produces a male heir. After that, she and Eloise will receive a pension from the Crown so they can live independently (the real Queen Charlotte actually did this for suspected historical sapphic couple The Ladies of Llangollen). Since Emma and Eloise would never be able to find husbands now, they decide that they'll just be two spinsters growing old together in their house in the countryside. You know... just two gal pals. No one believes that shit, but they rarely interact with the ton, so they're largely left alone to live as they please.

Happy ending, close to canon, historically accurate, and super gay. It's not that hard. You're welcome.

[chocsra]

idk abt others but yes i do eat up every single one of ur hs au bc it's so silly and yes i am looking at you with a chuuya plushie in my hand to ask for a dazai x reader hs au fanfic

✧ "YOU ARE THE CITY OF MY HEART"

☆ synopsis ↺: skipping class with your classmate, dazai yet again. but this time, you explore the ocean of your feelings together.

☆ content ↺: HIGHSCHOOL AU 15ZAI, musical prodigy! dazai, photographer! dazai, introvert! dazai, slightly ooc, fluff

☆ NOW PLAYING ↺: UNDERSTAND — keshi

☆ w/c ↺: 2k

you don't think you have ever lived without noise,

ever since you were a kid, you were talked your ear off by your parents, lectured by several adults, and screamed plentifully with friends. when there was silence, there was music to mask it. good or bad noise, it existed, survived, and was a huge part of your life.

but you,

Dazai Osamu, are probably the quietest person you've ever known.

the only sound you could associate with him was the shutter of a camera taking a picture—the same sound you've been continually hearing.

It was a regular school day, both dressed in full uniform, baking under the bright rays of the morning sun. There wasn't anything particularly wrong about this day. you could pick off the reddening leaves from bark-ridden tree branches and soak in the imprint of tree stumps, looking ever so similar to that of a fingerprint. it was a pretty autumn day; you just so happened to get to see that. you think, taking a withering leaf into the palm of your hand.

shutter.

"osamu, stop taking photos of me." —you chide, gently swatting the pointed camera out of view. the brunette in front of you, currently crouching, laughs boyishly as he removes his face pressed against the camera, gaze now overseeing the autumn sight before him. "sorry," dazai whispers, tinkering with a few buttons to review the photos he took. "you don't have to skip class with me, y'know." he murmurs, eyes glued to his camera.

he was a photographer, a pretty one at that. quiet and mysterious, you were rather surprised to learn that a boy reads fine literature and other classical means. sometimes, he picked up a violin or combined delicate fingers to gracefully waltz with a grand piano. his most prized possession was a camera, freezing the most beautiful of the intricacies of nature and people. but who was he? the boy who read books instead of taking notes in lectures, wavy chocolate brown hair that sun rays adored to find a home in, and a tall and slim build fitted in a school uniform and bandages. to capture the slope of his cheek, the deep hazel in hollow irises, and his olive skin. he was Dazai Osamu, a walking mystery.

so, you'd like to know where you stood with him in terms of relationship and if he even likes you at all. skipping class together, sneaking in your window at night, pretending to hang out with friends if it meant seeing him—it didn’t feel like something close friends did, like he was a secret you wanted to keep for yourself. but you couldn’t tell if that greed was reciprocated, if he was bored, or even considered you a close friend, a best friend. but instead of worrying too much, you only watch how his fingers work with a bulky camera, capturing nature's highs and lows.

“i know,” you twiddle with your fingers, grumbling, “class is boring anyway.” the brunette furrows his brows at the photos, brushing your excuse off, “this is shit. i think i’ve taken enough photos around the school.” he groans softly; you could practically hear his creative mind burning in the process. “did you delete the picture of me?” you question, standing over the lanky boy’s crouched form. “no, that one is good. i mean, the actual background, it's all repetitive.”

you tap a finger on your chim, “ahh,” you hum, pretending to understand his perspective. “winter should be here already.” the teenager grumbles under his breath before letting go of the camera to let it hang off his neck. you pace around slowly, feeling the surface of leaves crushing under your heels. “I mean, you don’t have to stay in school if you’re already skipping class.” you mutter, watching as a boyish grin lights up on his face. “you’re right, [y/n]! let’s go!”

a cold hand wraps his fingers around yours before dragging you to the nearest exit—"dazai!” you whine as the brunette drags you, “it’s cooooolllddddd!” you complain, your scarf nearly falling off as you run and run. hand in hand. this rather rushing feeling brings you a taste of memories you barely remember you had.

no one understood Dazai Osamu,

because he was a prodigy, he was something. something big, something great, something that made other geniuses seethe in envy. the boy had extraordinary intellect but a weak mind. no, dazai wasn't weak. he was just always unwell to a certain degree, and to most, it didn't take much to figure out—wearing long sleeves in summer, loving bandages for the comforting feelings even if he didn't need them, and reading books guiding the suicidal. dazai never hid it—that he was unwell, almost like a cry for help.

but for the genius that he was, nobody understood that.

but you did, in seventh grade. you were sniffling, pacing in remnants of snow as tears blurred your vision. though in your hazy field of sight, you outline the figure of one of your classmates approaching you, his tall frame catching the snowflakes from hitting your face. slowly, a boyish voice calls out.

"...are you okay?"

it was dazai, the stone-faced boy and talented prodigy. he wore a black trenchcoat, a little too big for his figure, and covered one of his chocolate brown eyes with bandages. you shook your head, a throbbing pain added from the tinge of snowflakes collecting in your hair. his stoic gaze never left you, standing there in the middle of a snowstorm, crying. the boy himself couldn't muster a feasible reason for walking outside in a snowstorm at this hour, so out of courtesy and a slight tinge of nervousness, he whispered, "let's go for a walk."

suddenly, nimble fingers reach out to grab yours; your fingers are used to originally wipe snot and cover your face. but dazai had no reaction to anything gross like that—like snot and tears. instead, he took shaky fingers into the cold ones of his own, pulling you gently along the sidewalk. you could barely make out his face or your feelings at the moment, only focused on his broad shoulders covered by that raven trench coat, soaking up snowflakes and the well of your tears.

from there, you walked and walked. hand in hand. soon running together with no particular destination—only feeling your body starting to warm up, sore feet clashing against snow, and his hand that never let go of yours.

Dazai Osamu never knew why you were crying, nor did you know what ever went through his head that day.

but from that moment forward,

you understood him.

soon, you were led by that same hand past pretty autumn leaves and into a foresty meadow, closed off from the rest of the world. several forms of wildlife scrapped by, followed by a murky pond under the sun's wake, surrounded by trees of reds and oranges. it perfectly provided what the school's campus couldn't—a sense of divergence reeling in the soft convolutions of your brain. "pretty, isn't it?"—the brunette chimes, panting from the long distance you two ran. "why'd you do that?" you grumble, rubbing your abdomen from an incoming sharp pain, "don't you have asthma?"

he immediately backtracks, shooting you an unamused glare, "that's.. enough." dazai huffs, before removing the strapped camera around his neck, "here, maybe you can take better pictures than i can." the boy chuckles shyly, a very drastic verbal response than his usual arrogance.

"hmm," a gentle hum slips past your lips, squinting one of your eyes in order to press the machine against your face. "i can try." after scouting the area with his camera for a few seconds, you began to snap a few shots at the darkening lake, carrying several leaves in its wake.

and as you paid full attention to the awaiting winter, dazai's gaze stayed on you, his autumn. his gaze softened and his slightly chapped lips parted in a momentary surprise, taking you in with every breath he took. Dazai himself loved photography; he loved capturing moments that would soon get lost in time. the brunette, with a talent for many things, found solace in photos. he loved to take photos of resting cats, dark sceneries you'd only find in an alleyway of a fantasy novel, and candid pictures of random couples on dates. dazai loved taking photos but detested that he didn't have a camera on hand at the moment—for he wanted to freeze this divine sight of you in the confines of his brain. your face, fingers, the dip and curve of every facial feature, and how the lighting kisses your skin and hair.

"how's it like? being a total genius?"

you were rather familiar with all your classmates, just curiously getting to know the mysterious musical prodigy, dazai osamu. it was a work period, and everyone in class already begun to slack off, especially since there was a supply.

and you knew that the lanky boy was eerily quiet when the school's athletic hotshot, Chuuya Nakahara, wasn't around. so, asking stupid questions won't exactly result in stupid answers, or so you thought.

"why? wanna be like me?" — he smiles teasingly, tilting his sharp jaw in your direction. "don't think someone who cries in the snow can do it, sorry." you freeze up and scoff, slightly embarrassed from the former interaction you had with him. "dick." a peaceful but awkward silence fills the air between both of you before the boy clears his throat awkwardly. "But i'd be willing to talk about it if you let me bother you at lunch.?"

the question itself caught you off guard. looking around at the chattering students, "i—" the brunette backtracked, hiding his face slightly with gauzed fingers. "Actually!—I am going to bother you. you're friends with chuuya, aren't you?" you shrug, eyes fluttering to the ground, "..i guess so, but i don't eat with him or his friends."

A breathless chuckle slips past the prodigy's lips before covering his mouth softly, completely ignoring you, "alright then, see you anyway, crybaby."

he hates himself for not knowing what to do with you, but he loved you more to let hate consume him, like usual. dazai wanted you; he didn't know what yearning was until he saw pieces of you in sunsets, rain and snow. he's felt destiny with his childhood friend, chuuya nakahara. but he's never felt something so desiring, pining — like he wanted to be with you every day. and maybe one of those days he'll feel you without the stupid gauze wrapped around his fingers. maybe one day he can hold your hand without the excuse of dragging you somewhere new. maybe one day, dazai will figure out how to ask you to be his, how to love you, because he's sure you're the one he wants to love.

"ahh, wait.."

you cock a brow at his shocked face, grabbing onto your sleeve as if the prodigy were reaching for the stars.

"I wish I were a painter, instead." the boy pouts, holding your sleeve childishly, pulling a chuckle from your throat, "why is that, huh?"

dazai's eyes, ever so empty and unfilled, now gleam, pretty and gentle. Softly reaching out to part a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, gazing up at you feverishly. "usually, I'm so prideful about these things, photography.."

The prodigy clears his throat, his fingers threading through soft strands of hair tucked behind your ear. "But your eyes, they are really pretty." Your lips part bashfully surprised, overcoming your ability to move.

The boy continues as if his mouth was switched on autopilot: " So I wish I could paint them instead. I guess just looking works, too, though."

He smiles cheekily.

all you ever knew was noise,

but you, Dazai Osamu, had that kind of silence to keep you awake at night. Whether that'd be holding hands in a snowstorm, or the few moments he'd stare into your eyes.

Little did you know, that was the moment he fell in love. Or rather, the time it took him to realise you don't fall.

That love has grown before you can even realise it.

✧ chocsra™

[harrywavycurly]

I would love to see our lonely couple moving in together in the house they picked out together 🥺

Hiiii lovey!! Thinking of them moving in together makes me all soft, as if they aren’t fully getting married 😂 but sure I’ll give you a little something that shows them on moving day!💖

-find all things Lonely here✨

A/N: You have a question for Harry while he is just wondering if you read anything other than romance novels, enjoy✨

Harry has officially lost count of how many boxes have been brought into the house that have “books: romance” written on them in your pretty handwriting, he brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as he wonders if that’s the only type of book you own because at the moment he can’t recall if he’s ever seen you with any other type of book in your hand. He gives one of the movers a smile as they carry in a box that has your handwriting on it but before he can read what it says to help direct the man on where to place it he sees you standing at the top of the stairs, taking all his attention as you place a hand on the railing while your other one comes up to rest on your forehead as you look around at the piles of boxes scattered throughout the living room where Harry is currently standing. He knows moving isn’t an easy process under normal circumstances and the two of you are far from moving in together under normal circumstances seeing as the two of you were just friends not even three months ago, not to mention the added stress of your wedding that’s still in the planning stages, he knows it’s a lot to deal with.

“Sir? Where does this go?” Harry is forced to look away from you and towards the man holding the box with your writing on it. He takes a look at what you’ve written on it and he wants to laugh when he sees it’s yet another box full of books.

“That can join the others right over there in the corner.” He points to the stack of boxes tucked away in the farthest corner of the living room where you’d already decided your library was going to be since there was already built in bookshelves on that wall. “Thank you.” He adds as the man heads over to place the box with the others.

“Harry?” Your voice is soft but there’s also a small hint of worry laced within it as you lean over the railing, Harry just smiles as he looks up at you to see you motioning for him to come upstairs. “Can I steal you for a moment please?” Before you can even finish your sentence Harry is making his way to the stairs, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief when you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders pulling you into his chest just a few moments later.

“What’s wrong my darling?” You feel his chin rest on the top of your head as your cheek rests against the soft fabric of his worn out Rolling Stones shirt. Harry runs his hands up and down your back as your arms snake their way around his middle. “And please don’t try and tell me nothing because I’ll have you know I’m a bit of an expert when it comes to you so I know something is bothering you.” You want to roll your eyes at him and call him ridiculous but you can’t, because he’s right there is something bothering you but you feel silly bringing it up to him.

“I just need to ask you something.” You mumble into his chest and you can tell by the way he gives you a little squeeze that he heard you.

“What is it love?” He asks as he pulls away from you just enough so he can look down at you, he feels the corners of his mouth drop to a slight frown when you refuse to look up at him opting to keep your cheek flush against his chest instead. “You can ask me anything you know that right? I’ve asked you to marry me twice now so there’s no need to feel silly or weird about whatever it is you want to ask.” You hate how well he knows you but at the same time you find comfort in his words because over the years the two of you have found yourselves in strange situations resulting in asking each other odd questions so the one you want to ask him now actually seems normal.

“Well there’s four bedrooms in this house-”

“Our house.” You lift your head off his chest so you can look up at him after he interrupts you. “You meant to say there’s four bedrooms in our house.” He has a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you and sees it click in your mind why he felt the need to correct you in as gentle of a way possible, with his hands still running soothingly up and down your back as your arms stay wrapped around his middle. You just give him a small nod because he’s right, it’s not just some random house anymore it’s the house you and Harry picked to move into together.

It took two weeks and looking at ten houses all in different parts of Malibu and the surrounding areas before Harry knew the two of you had found the perfect house. He knew it the moment he saw your eyes light up when you walked in the front door and saw the spacious living room, the way you practically dragged him up the stairs to look at the bedrooms and how you just laughed along with him when he teased you about how big they were compared to the ones in your old place but the moment that really made him realize this was the house for the two of you was when you were stood in the kitchen with a hand on your hip and a dreamy look in your eyes as you looked at him and listed off all the things you could cook and bake in it as well as mentioning hosting holiday parties. It didn’t take long after the first initial walk through for the two of you to decide to put an offer in and luckily it was accepted and a few weeks later here you are with all the papers signed and the keys to the front door hanging on your keychain that’s attached to your purse that’s currently sitting on the kitchen counter downstairs.

“Our house has four bedrooms.” You repeat with the correct word making Harry smile as you turn your head and look towards the end of the hall where a set of double doors lead to the master bedroom. “I was just wondering where you wanted me to put my stuff?” You can’t look at him as you ask the question because you know the look he’s going to give you but before you can even think of retreating back to hiding your face in his chest you feel his index finger and thumb under your chin gently turning your head so you’re looking at him.

“Your stuff? Do you mean things like your ridiculous amount of sweatshirts and that collection of t shirts that you swear you didn’t steal from me? Because if those are the types of things you’re wondering where to put I can happily help you pick a closet.” Harry knows that’s not what you meant by stuff, he knows exactly what you’re really asking him but he can’t pass up a moment to make you roll your eyes at him because he just loves the look you get when you’re slightly annoyed with him. “I do think there’s a few to pick from but I think the one in the master bedroom would probably be the best place to start wouldn’t you agree?” He adds as he looks down at you with a quirked brow as his hand moves from under your chin to gently cupping the side of your face.

“Are we sharing a bed?” You feel your cheeks get warm as you blurt the question out and Harry just smiles at you because this is what he knew you wanted to ask the moment he saw your eyes travel down the hall to the bedroom door.

“Do you want to share a bed? I don’t want to make you feel weird or uncomfortable.”

“I mean we’ve shared a bed before?”

“Yeah we’ve shared hotel beds and we’ve spent the night in your bed and there’s been a few times in my bed.”

“And it wasn’t weird right?”

“No!” Harry clears his throat when he realizes how quickly and loudly he answers your question making you laugh as you lean into his palm that’s still cupping the side of your face. “No it wasn’t weird love. I think this is just going to be different that’s all but a good different.” His voice is quieter and more soothing this time as he answers your question for the second time.

“A good different?” You raise an eyebrow at his answer and he just nods as he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead as he drops his hand from the side of your face.

“Yes because we will be sharing a bed as more than friends so it will be different but in the best way possible.” He begins to explain as his hand lands on your hip giving it a playful squeeze. “I’ll actually be looking forward to you touching me with your icicle feet because you hate the feeling of socks in bed and I won’t have to worry about keeping my hands to myself when I want to just reach for you in the middle of the night to pull you closer to me.” You smile at the thought of him wanting to reach for you in his sleep and you feel yourself relaxing as he places a kiss to the top of your head. “Most importantly the first person I’ll get to see when I wake up is the one person I just so happen to be madly in love with and also the person I somehow convinced to marry me so yes sweetheart I’d very much like to share a bed with you if you’re okay with it.” You just look up at him with a grin on your face and nod as you reach up on your tiptoes to place a quick kiss to his lips.

“You’re madly in love with me huh?” Harry just shrugs as you pull away from him making you laugh.

“Was it too much? Do you prefer hopelessly in love with? Or maybe over the moon in love-”

“Excuse me? Sorry but where do you want the boxes that say H S Clothes?” You quickly unwrap yourself from Harry at the sound of one of the mover’s voices coming from downstairs. Harry turns around and looks at the bottom of the stairs and sees a dolly stacked with boxes right next to the mover and Harry just smiles and points behind him.

“All clothing boxes can go in our bedroom.” You don’t miss the little glance Harry shoots your way when he says our bedroom, making you feel your face get warm as you look down at your feet. “Last door at the end of the hallway.” He adds making the nice man at the bottom of the stairs just nod as he walks away to let the other movers know all boxes marked clothes can be taken up stairs.

“I’m not sure all your clothes are going to fit in our closet.” You tease as Harry grabs your hand and heads towards the master bedroom. He just playfully rolls his eyes and ignores your comment as he opens the door and lets go of your hand so you can enter the bedroom first. Harry takes a moment and leans against the doorframe as he watches you stand in the middle of the empty room, he feels a grin spread across his face as he watches you place your hands on your hips as your eyes go a little wide while you slowly spin around allowing yourself to get a full 360 view of the room.

“I’m standing in our bedroom.” The tone of your voice is a mixture of shock but also excitement as you stare at Harry. “Like this is our bedroom that’s at the end of the hall on the second floor of our house.” You feel like you want to pinch yourself as Harry pushes himself off the doorframe so he can walk over to you and place his hands on your waist.

“I quite like the sound of that.” You smile as he rests his forehead against yours while your arms loosely wrap around his neck. “Our closet.” He mumbles as he places a kiss to your cheek. “Our bedroom.” You fight back a giggle as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Our house.” You feel his breath on your neck right before his lips place a kiss just below your ear before he pulls away just enough so he can look at you before he leans in for a sweet kiss that leaves you smiling when he pulls away.

“I love you.” Harry smiles as you play with the hair at the back of his neck before pulling him down for another quick kiss.

“I love you too sweetheart.” You giggle as his hands gently give your waist a little squeeze. You have to stop yourself from frowning when you feel him let go of your waist making you drop your arms from around his neck so he can open both doors allowing the movers more room to bring in boxes and furniture, a new bed included because both of you agreed this new chapter the two of you are beginning deserved a new bedroom set but you secretly just didn’t want to sleep on a mattress Harry had slept with other people on but he didn’t need to know that even though he probably already did. “Oh by the way have you always had a thing for romance novels love?” He asks as he turns to see you looking out the window that looks out towards the pool in the backyard.

“Yes because there’s just so many different types and I enjoy an easy read in between my more heavy stuff.” You answer as you watch some movers place your patio furniture outside near the pool making you smile as you see the orange and pink striped cushion, the same cushion you were sitting on when Harry told you he wanted to be your husband.

“Baby there’s like ten boxes down there with romance novels in them how have you accumulated so many?”

“Oh well most of them I haven’t read yet and then I always like to keep my favorites around for when I need a pick me up so it just adds up.”

“You only read one at a time though so why do you get so many to read when your shelf is already full?”

“Harry you have twenty pairs of sunglasses but only wear two of them but I don’t say anything when you buy more for your collection do I?”

“That’s fashion love you can’t compare fashion and books they aren’t the same thing.”

“They both take up a lot of our space.”

“That’s-well okay yes I guess that’s true they do both take up space.”

“Mhm they do therefore making me?”

“A smut slut? Or do you just like the general title of book nerd?” Harry has to bite back the laugh that wants to escape him as the words leave his mouth because he knows what you want him to admit but he’s never been one to give in so easily.

“Just say it Harry.” You turn around and cross your arms over your chest as you look at your fiancé who is also standing with his arms over his chest and a smirk on his face as he stares at you. “I promise you won’t die if you say the words.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. Why would I tell you to do something that’ll kill you before we are officially married?”

“Oh so once we’re married and everything is signed then it’s fine if I die?”

“Harry just say the damn words.” Harry laughs as he takes a few steps towards you while you remain by the window with a playful glare in your eyes as you look at him.

“Okay here we go.” He takes a deep breath and dramatically lets it out through his nose as he reaches out for your hands. “You’re right.” You laugh as he looks around after the words leave his lips as if he is checking to make sure nothing is going to happen to him.

“Can you say that again but slower and maybe-”

“Not happening.”

“But you’re madly in love with me remember? Doesn’t that get me something?”

“It gets you a house with a bookshelf that will fit all your little romance novels.” You just smile as he leans down to give your lips a quick peck pulling away just in time as a mover walks into the bedroom with two boxes in his arms.

[greynatomy]

bookworm

leah williamson x reader

request: either Leah, Lucy or Sam.... married to a writer, someone who's name is well known but face isn't . (could be a pen name) ... the relationship isn't know.... reader comes to a game, the team sees reader and thinks Player should shoot their shot....

the book mentioned is by ciara smyth and i recommend reading it

———

For as long as anyone has known her, Leah Williamson was a known bookworm. Her parents have bought countless books once she’d learned how to read. If she wasn’t playing football, she was reading a book.

Away matches? Reading on the coach or plane, Leah will always be found with a book on her person. Everyone teased her about it, but she always gave recommendations on her favorite reads.

Her close friend, Lia Wälti, did tease her at first, like the rest of their Arsenal teammates, but one time during training, Leah left her book on the lounge chair by the pool when Jonas called her over for a chat. Lia picked up the book to inspect it.

“The Falling in Love Montage by Billie Keynes.” She mumbled, reading the title and author.

By the time Leah comes back to her chair, she sees someone else occupying it, her book in their hands.

“Would it be possible to get my book back?” Leah asks, casting a shadow over Lia.

“Shh. I’m a bit preoccupied.” Lia lifts a finger up to Leah, not taking her eyes off the page she is on.

“Uh, that’s my property.”

“And I’m currently using it, so wait your turn.”

Over the next couple of days, Lia is seen with the same book that Leah had. Some of her teammates ask about it and eventually a a good number of them started reading the book.

Another couple of days later, the team is winding down by the pool at the training ground, all reading the same book.

“This is a really good book Lia. Thanks for the recommendation.” Steph complimented, other gunners agreeing.

“Uh, excuse you all. I have been reading that first. Lia stole the book from me. Had to buy a new one.” Leah complains, eyebrows furrowed.

“Shush. It’s not a competition.”

Leah makes a face of offense.

“Actually, since you’re here, does Billie Keynes have any other books? Preferably with more lesbians.” Beth asks.

“Oh, I’ve got a whole list. I’ll send it in the group chat.”

Two weeks later, they were back on the pitch, ready for a new season. Leah sat behind the bench, still healing from her injury.

After the match, Lia walks over to where Beth and Leah stood.

“Hey! Good game, played well!” Beth hugs the Swiss.

“Thank you, but did you see the girl that was reading a book the whole game?”

“Leah wasn’t reading?” Beth looks at Leah, confused.

“No, not Leah. She’s, uh, she’s right there, just walking off.”

“Huh. Weird.”

Over the next few games, including the ones away, more and more of the team took notice of the girl who reads during the match. Always in the same section, same row, reading a book. Even some fans recognize her, being posted on social media by the team’s administration.

During a team bonding, the team decided to play a bit of truth or dare. One having to eat a spoonful of Vegemite, jump in the pool, tell their biggest fear.

The bottle then landed on Leah, being spun by Katie, who had a mischievous look on her face.

“Oh, no.” Leah was sweating, she didn’t like the look on the Irish’s face.

“Now, we know how much you love to read. You’ve turned some of us, not me, but some of us into avid readers, but there’s one that could rival you as a bookworm.”

“Get on with it, will you!” Leah was impatient.

“I dare you… to go up to the girl that’s always reading during our games and ask her out. On a date.”

So now here she was, walking over to the section after the game against City. She walks in small strides, trying to take longer than she needed to, looking back to see her team huddled together watching her.

“Hey.” She says, when she reaches the girl, who was, no surprise, reading a book.

“Leah.” You replied, not taking your eyes off the book.

“Listen, I was dared to go up to you and talk to you.”

“So, you’ve said last night.”

“Let me finish woman.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You give an amused smile at the pout on her face.

“Would you like to go on a date? We’ve not gone on one yet this week.”

“Yes, only if I pick where to eat.”

“But, babyyyy.” She whines. “You know I’m picky.”

“That’s why I want to pick. You can’t deprive your tastebuds from flavor.”

“But—”

“Ah ah.” You interrupted. “Pick me up when you’re done.” You lightly pat her cheek and walk towards the exit.

“So?” Katie questioned, wanting to know what happened.

“She rejected me.” Leah replied with a sullen pout.

“Oof. That sucks mate. Thought she’d be the one for you.”

A month passed since the date was executed. Everyone seemed to forget about it, still seeing you in the stands, but no one paying you any mind.

It was a team bonding night. Everyone agreed to have it at Leah’s place tonight. The thing is, everyone knew except for Leah. On purpose? Only Katie knows.

A loud and heavy knock scares Leah from where she lay on the couch. She cautiously walks to the door, looking through the peephole, eyes widening at the sight of her whole team.

“What are you all doing here?” Leah opens the door just a bit.

“It’s team bonding night. Be a dear and let us in.”

Katie hadn’t waited for an answer and let herself in, the rest following after.

“So, what do you have planned?”

“Didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Actually.” Beth butts in. “Did you guys hear that Billie Keynes is releasing another book?”

“Wait. Really?”

“Yeah, in like a week.”

Lia was looking around her friend’s house, snooping more like it.

“What’s it called?”

“I Think—” Lia’s answer gets cut off as she pick up a book from Leah’s shelf. “Leah?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you have Billie Keynes’ new book before it’s been released?”

Leah’s head whips towards Leah so fast that her head could’ve popped off its socket.

“Uh-well-I-um—”

The sound of the front door opening and shutting cut off her stuttering, leaving everyone else to stay silent, not knowing who else it could be. You walk into the living room, freezing at the sight of Leah’s whole team.

“Hey, you’re the girl who reads during our games.” Beth breaks the silence.

“Uh, hi.”

“Wait.” Katie turns to Leah. “I though you said she rejected you.”

“Well, you see—”

“Oh my god! Where’d you find that? I’ve been looking for it everywhere.” You grab the book out of Lia’s hand, flipping through the pages. “My agent almost killed me cause I thought I lost it.”

“Huh?” The team were now confused.

“It won’t be released until another week. It would’ve been horrible to lose it.”

“How do you have this then if it hasn’t been released yet?” Beth questioned, confused.

“I mean when you write it, you get special privileges.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. What do you mean by that?”

“It means how I said it.”

“So you’re Billie Keynes?”

“It’s a pen name. My real name’s Y/N Y/LN.”

“That’s so cool.” Alessia speaks up for the first time.

“You’re like our favorite author.”

“Aw. That’s so sweet.”

“How’d you come up with Billie Keynes anyway.”

“Well, people named William are sometimes called Billie and my wife is from Milton Keynes.”

“Leah! You made me dare you to ask your wife on a date?”

“Yeah. Thank you for that. I’ve got some bonus wifey points for it.” Leah had a smirk on her face, making the team groan and you slap her lightly on the arm.

“Since we’re teammates of your wife, could we get some special privileges?” Beth asks, hoping you know what she means.

“I’ll even sign the book for you.”

[sunnydinthereal]

TAG PEOPLE YOU’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER

TAGGED BY: @starfables heeeeyyyy thank you I will gladly take part in this silly little game (but I’m making it a separate post instead of a reblog because I don’t want to clog my page lol)

THREE SHIPS: I’m actually not a big shipper lol the only one I’ve been thinking about lately is anxiety & fear (inside out). I mean I fw the other ones I just don’t actively think about them

FIRST SHIP: Crazy confession but there was a time in my life when I was like 11-12 where I was a hardenshipper (Pokemon)

LAST SONG: Angelica- POTC

LAST SHOW: I rewatched Kid Cosmic recently I think that was my most recent. Or my Duck Dodgers rewatch.. I haven’t watched any shows for a while lol.

CURRENTLY READING: I just finished A Dutch Castaway on Ascension Island in 1725 and now I’m considering picking up Treasure Island (I don’t really read fiction much. except fanfiction ig but that’s diff… anyways I’m a history book enjoyer mostly)

CURRENTLY EATING: bold of you to assume I’ve ate yet today (it’s like 11am don’t worry about it)

CURRENTLY CRAVING: those red candy apples you get on Halloween

TAGGING: @starsnearmarz @failmeep @tokibuns @mercifulbutbroken @the-anem0ne and ANY of my followers who want to take part feel free to just say I tagged you lol

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SEVEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You get your first taste of freedom from the constricting walls of the Earth Palace.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: hello everyone and welcome to part two of the glass princess!! in the next few chapters we will be learning more about princess y/n and how she met zuko/the fall of ba sing se :) thank you all for reading!! and yes i did make up an entire spirit for the #plot 😭🙏🏻 i promise she will have significance to the story later on though!!

Although it was uncharitable, you could not help yourself from thinking that the only reason Long Feng was allowing your brother to keep that ridiculous creature around was because of its apparent resemblance to Quynh. In a way, it could be considered to have been made in her image, and Kuei knew that as well as you did, which was why he was currently leaping about joyfully, shaking you by the shoulders as if he were a child instead of a man.

“I’ve found him!” Kuei shrieked at you for the thousandth time. “I’ve found Quynh’s son! She hasn’t abandoned us after all, Y/N! She sent her son to me!”

“That ghastly, muddy creature is no child of Quynh’s,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the tufts of fur all over the fine carpet. “And Quynh never abandoned us in the first place. I do not know why you think that that is the case.”

“No one has seen her in nearly a century, and it’s been even longer since anyone found Quynh’s Door. If ever she was real, she left the palace long ago,” Kuei said. “Maybe she was never a spirit in the first place — just one of Bosco’s ancestors.”

“That is blasphemy!” you rebuked him. “Quynh is no Agni — she is a concrete spirit, not an abstract deity. If anything, she is far more similar to Tui and La, from the Northern Water Tribe.”

“Who?” Kuei said.

“The ocean and moon spirits,” you said with a heavy sigh, once again finding yourself unimpressed by Kuei and his ignorance. “They live in the Northern Water Tribe and allow Waterbenders to bend.”

“Quynh doesn’t allow anyone to bend. She’s a different legend entirely. You should know that,” he said. You gritted your teeth.

“I wish you would pick up a book for once! It was an analogy, you fool,” you said.

“It matters not,” Kuei said after a second. “I don’t know why you’re so set on this fairytale, but the sooner you give up on it, the sooner you can find the wonder in the real world.”

“By the real world, do you mean my chambers?” you said. “Or yours? Because that is the extent of the world I know.”

“I mean the bear sitting before you at this very moment!” he said, ignoring your pointed response and gesturing towards his new pet with a flourish. “You are more taken with a made up story than an actual natural phenomenon. That’s a problem, dear sister.”

Bosco the bear grumbled at you in agreement, blinking his large, wet eyes at you. And perhaps you might’ve been impressed by his sturdy build and elegant snout, but all you could see when you gazed upon him was a cheap copy, a faded replica that could never hope to capture even half of the original’s glory.

“Well, dear brother, it can’t be helped. Your pet will never be Quynh,” you said.

“Always bringing down the mood, aren’t you?” he said, rolling his eyes at you. “I wasn’t saying he was Quynh, I was saying he resembled her greatly. Anyways, you know stories always inflate their characters; for all we know, Quynh really did once look like this.”

You wanted to argue with him, but of course it would not be productive. Like the element he ruled, your brother was set in his ways — the only qualities he had in equal measure to stubbornness were cowardice and naïveté, both of which he was perhaps better known for. It was true, though, that when he gained a sense of conviction for something, he’d stand by it with a fervor that he rarely displayed otherwise. It was one of the few attributes you could genuinely admire him for, even if it was inconvenient at times.

“As you say,” you said. “I see no purpose in further discussions on the matter. You do not believe in Quynh, and I do. Neither of us can change the other’s mind, so we ought to just move on.”

“Compliment Bosco first,” Kuei said. “On my authority as the Earth King, I demand it.”

“You demand a lot of things on that tenuous authority,” you muttered. Then, you smiled at the piteous looking bear. “You truly deserve to be my brother’s companion. I am certain you are possessed with the same commanding spirit that he is so fortunate to claim.”

Kuei beamed at you. “Thank you. You can return to your room.”

You snickered at him. “It is appreciated.”

Only when you were halfway down the hallway did he shout in protest, realizing your thinly veiled insult. You sped up your pace, running towards your room before he could come and question you or make another demand — you did not put it past him to insist that you compliment his bear properly.

It was one of those ways you had to get back at him. You were ever searching for more, trying your best to needle the brother who was, whether directly or indirectly, the cause of your imprisonment.

Your chambers. His chambers. The hallway in between. These were the confines of your world, according to Kuei and Long Feng, who was his most trusted advisor. It would be dangerous, after all, for a girl with no bending and royal blood flowing through her veins to be wandering the streets without protection, even in a city as safe as Ba Sing Se. So although you had begged to at least see the kingdom which was your own, you had been promptly refused every time, the locks changed periodically and the guards rotated hourly to ensure they stayed alert to your movements.

Escape was impossible, but even in such a life, you could find solace: in your dressing room, a door would sometimes appear, a door which led to the heart of the palace — not the throne room, but the true heart upon which the entire structure was constructed. Quynh’s Den, the entrance to which was constantly shifting between the spirit world and the mortal one, was the only place you had for yourself, though of course you shared it with its other inhabitant: the great mother bear spirit Quynh.

It was there today. Ensuring that the entrance to your own chambers was sufficiently blocked, you did not even hesitate to pull the door open, ducking into the stone passageway behind it eagerly. The only light came from the glowing crystals overhead, but you knew the way so well that you could’ve tread it even with your eyes closed, so the dimness did not trouble you any.

It did not make sense for such a long, winding hall made entirely of stone to be behind your dressing room, but that was because the hallway was not truly there. The door was only a gateway to the realm in which Quynh’s Den resided, but that realm was somewhere else, in some intangible other dimension that did not quite obey the same rules as yours.

Time, too, felt strange in this place. You did not know for how long you walked; you never did. You could only keep going until the narrow passage opened into a large cavern, the walls of which were studded with the same glowing green crystals that the entire hall had been encrusted with. The majority of the space was taken up by a massive black form curled up on a bed of ghostly white moss, her head resting on paws that were several times your own size. You knew from past experience that if you were to stand right beside her when she was in such a position, you would barely even be able to peek over her nose.

“Quynh,” you said. Twin jewels blinked open — her enormous eyes were the same luminous shade as the crystals surrounding her, and they, too, shone with a mysterious, intrinsic power.

“Y/N,” she said, the cavern rumbling with the depth of her voice. “I was wondering when you would come again.”

“I come whenever you allow me to,” you said, moving so that you could sit in front of her. She huffed, tilting her head so that you could clamber onto her paw and lean against the plush fur of her cheek, which would be several times warmer than the cold stone floor.

“It’s not under my control,” she said. “You know my limitations.”

“Yes, of course I do,” you said. “That’s how it’s always been. I was just reminding you, so that you are not angry.”

“I do not blame you,” she said. “For not visiting. I know that you cannot unless the circumstances align. Rather, it is that I am bereaved when you are gone. It has been many years since I could say this with certainty, but the truth is that I miss your company.”

“And I, yours,” you said. “Though you should not feel too complimented by that. It is you or Kuei, and I am, as ever, irritated by him at the moment.”

“You should not quarrel with him,” Quynh chided you. “He is the only family you have. It does you no good to fight with him so frequently. You will be sad if something happens and those are the only memories you have of him.”

“I wish that you were not inclined to defend him!” you said.

“Whether you like it or not, he is of the same line as you. I love him as well, for that fact. I am bound to,” she said. You pouted.

“You ought to love me more. He doesn’t even think you are real,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s believed in you in decades.”

“A mother cannot declare favorites,” Quynh said diplomatically. “And so, neither can I. You ought to know this by now.”

“He’s found a bear,” you muttered obstinately. “It’s a disgusting creature. Rolls in mud whenever given the opportunity and barely knows to shut its jowls when it’s eating.”

“A bear?” Quynh said, one of her ears flicking with interest. “I did not know of any which existed.”

“I suppose there is this one,” you said. “He is a true bear; I have ascertained as much. He does resemble you, though it is in the way that quartz resembles diamond.”

Bear was not quite enough to encapsulate what Quynh was. Certainly, her form was as such, but she was in a sense phantasmic, and so ascribing a physical species to her was disingenuous. That was why you found it so grating that Kuei was frolicking about and proclaiming that he had found her equal — she had no equal. Quynh stood alone.

“It is unfair,” she said, “for you to hold that against him. If you were possessed with an uneducated eye, you, too, would mistake the quartz for the diamond. He cannot be blamed.”

“I would know,” you said. “Even if I were blind, I would know. The diamond possesses something which the quartz never can.”

“And what might that be?” Quynh said.

“I don’t know,” you said. “But there is some such quality.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps you are upset about something entirely different and are taking out your frustration on an animal that cannot help its ancestry and a brother who is known to be a fool.”

“On that much, we can agree,” you said with a self-satisfied smile. “Kuei is a fool.”

“Y/N,” Quynh warned you. You hung your head in defeat.

“I asked Long Feng if I could leave again,” you said. “I thought he was in a generous mood, considering he raised no complaint about Bosco being moved to the royal chambers, but he refused! I told him I would not stray from my guards’ side, that I only wished to go for a matter of minutes, but still he said no.”

“Did he give his reasons?” Quynh said.

“The same as ever,” you said. “Until Kuei marries and has children, I am next in line for the throne. As the heir, I must be kept with the utmost of caution, and the only place I can be safe for certain is the palace.”

“He’s not entirely wrong,” she said. “The world is dangerous. More than you might think.”

“I don’t think anything,” you said, though you immediately felt poorly for snapping at her. “I cannot even form an opinion on the city I might one day rule. What sort of a princess does not even know her subjects? To say nothing of my brother the king, who himself has not left the palace walls in years and is entirely comfortable with that! I cannot understand it. I cannot understand why he has no desire to know his people, the very people who love him so dearly as to accept him as their ruler.”

“Not everyone is like you,” Quynh said, nudging you as gently as she could. “And your brother’s past shaped who he is now. You cannot blame him for desiring safety when he was there when it all happened.”

She spoke of your father. You had never met the man, for he had died days before you had been born, so you felt no grief at the reminder, but you knew it was not the same for Kuei. After all, your father’s death was the only reason your brother had taken the throne in the first place; a throne which, at his young age, he had been ill-suited for.

Due to Kuei’s fondness for animals, which he had had since he was very young, your father had taken him to the zoo for his birthday. There, a wayward assassin of the Earthbending variety had sent spikes of stone into your father’s heart, killing him before the guards could even react. It was all they could do to save Kuei and run — the assassin, as far as you knew, still walked free today, for they had been too concerned with your brother’s protection to chase after the killer.

The zoo was shut down. The child Kuei was crowned king, though your mother was deemed his regent. Days later, she fell gravely ill. Giving birth to you was the last thing she did — she never left the childbearing bed, using the final remains of her strength to push you out and hold you tightly against her chest until she stopped breathing entirely.

One child there for your father’s last moments. The other, for your mother’s. Quynh was not exaggerating in saying that Kuei was the only family you had left, but your lives had been so dissimilar as to be entire opposites. He had his ministers and advisors to replace the gap your father had left in his life. You had Quynh to serve as your mother, in whatever way she could.

“The guards will be vigilant,” you said. “And anyways, even if I am Kuei’s heir, I doubt that anyone would have cause to assassinate me. I am not important enough to the kingdom. If I were killed, Kuei would simply marry earlier, and have more children, so it would be a net loss for any assailants.”

“You know that I am not opposed to it,” Quynh said. “It is your brother and his advisors who forbid you; I am only reminding you to respect their wishes, for they, in some manner, have your best interests at heart.”

“But I am dying of it,” you said. “Every day I languish in the palace, I can feel my spirit being crushed by the ever-encroaching walls. My only respite is visiting you, Quynh, but even that is not enough. I am still captive.”

Quynh sighed. It was a great sound, whistling and low, teeming with disappointment and worry and affection, all in equal measure. You rubbed your hand against her fur, waiting for her response, though you doubted it would be any different than every other time you had asked.

“You want me to open a door to the kingdom,” she said.

“Yes,” you said. “If I go alone, in the garb of a commoner, then I should escape notice entirely.”

“Alright,” she said. You opened your mouth to argue before closing it.

“Alright?” you repeated. “You’re saying yes? What about the usual rebuttals? It’s too much of a risk, Y/N, you won’t even be able to find Quynh’s Door.”

“It’s true,” she said. “You won’t have that guarantee, but of course, I can manually open doors back to the palace. The danger in this is that you will have to wait until I can open a door to allow your return, even if you want it earlier. As you well know, time is different here. I could open a door for you mere seconds after you’ve left, but that still might mean you must spend hours in the city.”

“I do not mind,” you said. “I will make good use of that time. But what has changed your mind? Why have you never offered before?”

“Something has come to the city,” she said. “I can feel it. There is a presence, or perhaps multiple presences, that can change the course of Ba Sing Se’s destiny — and, more importantly, of your family’s destiny. I am not sure, but I feel as if it is imperative that you leave, or else I will be depriving you of that destiny. And that unto itself is a fate, but not the one which you are meant to find.”

“Who are they?” you said. “These presences. How will I know that I’ve met them?”

“You won’t,” she said. “There is no way for any of us to know. Even they, themselves, may not yet be aware of it. It is just like that. You needn’t endeavor to find them; if you are meant to, you will.”

“I see,” you said, and then you leapt off of her paw, beaming up at her. “Then the only thing I will

“I hope you do,” Quynh said. “Furthermore, I hope you do not regret your decision.”

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “Thank you, Quynh.”

“It is my duty,” she said. “I am obligated to. To be sure, it is difficult, for there is always some difficulty when a mother must let her child go, but it is necessary. It is a story older than even I.”

“And this story is just as old,” you said. “That even when you let me go, I will return to you. Of my own volition, I shall return.”

“So you shall,” she said. “Go, then, Y/N. And return with as much haste as you leave, so that I may not miss you for too long.”

A new hallway formed in the walls of the cave, and without a backward glance, you walked towards it. Striding down the passage, you kept your eyes forward, knowing that if you turned around, you would see the stone closing behind you. You could not go back; it was not the nature of Quynh’s power. There was only one way to go, now that the decision had been made: forward.

All of the passages made by Quynh were the same length — barring the one behind the famed Quynh’s Door, naturally — so it was a trick of your mind that made the trek to Ba Sing Se seem longer than when you returned to your room from her den. Still, eventually, you came to another door, and your entire body shuddered in anticipation as you placed your hand on the knob, because this was the moment that you waited your entire life for.

Unable to delay for a second more, you swung the door open, taking your first step into the city of Ba Sing Se, your silk-slippered foot toeing delicately onto the cobblestones. Shutting the door behind you, you glanced over your shoulder to ascertain that it had disappeared. As you had expected, the wall was smooth and bare, giving no indication that there had ever been an exit in the first place.

There were people everywhere. You had never witnessed such a large crowd before; people milled about by the fading light of the setting sun, jostling one another as they rushed to and fro. At the fringes of the throng, two men with long torches went about lighting the street lamps, though they took their own time doing so, talking and laughing with whichever passersby that they recognized.

Another person might find the chaos to be ugly, hideous in its disorder, but you found a kind of mystical appeal to the hustle of the street. These were people who were living their lives as they were meant to, with no awareness of the simple freedoms and small joys they possessed. They gave no care to the idea that their daily lives were so remarkable to you, that their going-ons were the most wonderful thing you had ever seen.

You were too afraid to step into the sea of people, so you stayed along the sides of the road, admiring them, watching them, wanting more than anything to be one of them. But of course you were not. You would never be.

The door had spit you out near a small tea shop. It was not run down, exactly, but it was lived in, homey, the wood polished and the chairs worn. You opened the door to the establishment, but found it to be devoid of any patrons. There was only an old man behind the counter, sorting the change with toughened hands, though he looked up when he heard the bell chime announce your entrance.

“Hello, miss,” he said. “I’m afraid we are about to close for the night.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” you said. “I wasn’t wanting tea, anyways. I was just admiring your shop.”

“Why, thank you,” he said, grinning at you. “Though it’s not my shop, so I can’t claim to have any hand in the decor.”

“It smells so lovely,” you said. “It reminds me of a very beautiful thing, though I can’t name which.”

“Flowers?” he guessed. “Maybe a garden full of jasmine blossoms, their petals facing the moon, with a few drops of rain scattered about on their surfaces?”

“Actually, yes,” you said, amazed at his accuracy. “How did you know? That was exactly correct.”

“It’s the new blend of jasmine tea we’re brewing for tomorrow. My nephew picks the flowers himself, so that we can be sure of the condition of the jasmine before we make the tea. It’s the best way to allow the flavors to come through!” the man said.

“Wow,” you said. “I never knew there was so much thought put behind tea. I just drink it.”

“Most people don’t care enough,” the man said with a nod. “That’s what sets our tea apart. It’s only when you pay attention to the most minute details that you can ensure your final product is as close to perfection as can be found in a teacup. It’s a grave sin to think that tea begins and ends with the boiling of water; in truth, it starts when you plant seeds in the soil.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” you said. “Though I hadn’t it until now. Thank you for telling me. I shall pay more attention the next time I have tea; perhaps then I, too, will be able to understand its origins from a mere sip.”

“It takes practice,” the man said. “But no harm ever befell the man who paid attention. Or woman, in this case.”

“Of course,” you said. “But I should leave you to close. I apologize for bothering you in the first place.”

“Don’t apologize,” the man said, waving you off. “It’s always a delight to have a conversation with a willing partner.”

“The delight was mine,” you said.

“Do come again!” the man said. “Perhaps earlier in the day, though. I can serve you tea — or, better, I can make my nephew do it. I think he’s about your age, and he is wanting for friends. But don’t tell him I said that! He’s not aware of it quite yet.”

Your eyes widened at the thought. You had never met someone your own age, nor had you ever had a friend — Quynh and Kuei were your family, for better or for worse, and the servants never dared speak to you beyond the barest of formalities. So, in a way, you were alsowanting for a friend, but you could not tell the man this. Instead, you smiled slightly at him, bowing your head in gratitude.

“I should like that,” you said. “If ever I am nearby again, I will surely come.”

As the night stretched on, the streets began to empty — or was it that you were wandering further and further away from the main crossroads? Regardless, there was certainly a shift in the air, and it was only when you entered a deserted neighborhood that you realized there had been footsteps following you for quite some time now.

Turning around, you saw no one. The streets were devoid of life. The footsteps had stopped, but you could not help the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

Where was the door? It had been long enough — you should’ve been able to find it by now. You should’ve been able to go home by now. But there was no door. You were alone, and you suddenly understood why you had been forbidden from leaving the palace.

“Who goes there?” you said. “I — I am armed, so show yourself, but proceed with caution!”

“Armed?” a voice said. “Don’t fool yourself, your royal highness. Everyone knows you aren’t armed.”

“Your royal — how do you know who I am?” you called out. “Coward! You dare to hide in the shadows and hurl such insults at me?”

Your response was an enormous boulder shooting towards you. You squealed and dropped to the ground, covering your head with your hands as the boulder smashed into the wall behind you, bits of rubble raining down. There was a stinging pain on your knee, and you frowned as you realized that you had scraped it when you had initially dodged.

“What are you doing?” you said. “You will kill me! Stop it! You craven hound, I command you to stop what you are doing and face me like a man! If you cease your actions and explain yourself at once, I shan’t have you put to death. I will even pardon you of your every crime!”

Again, no response, and your heart dropped as you realized that might be his goal. What other reason would the man, who apparently knew your identity, have for attacking you? It was unfathomable, but you were reminded that it had not been so long since your father had been assassinated. Whatever sentiments had driven that attack…what if you had been wrong? What if you were, for whatever reason, the target for the next assassination?

It reminded you of a story, one you had read on the tenth anniversary of your father’s death. You thought it might comfort you, or more specifically your brother, to read the tale of another king who had been assassinated but whose reign had continued on regardless; in truth, though, only one quote had stuck with you, and this quote was neither comforting nor kind.

Sometimes, these things just happen, it had said. Kings are murdered. There isn’t always an explanation. Sometimes, the only reason is the action itself. Sometimes, people just kill for the spectacle of killing.

Maybe that was the case. Maybe you were just going to be killed for the spectacle. The show. The king’s beloved sister, murdered in his own city, the safest city in the entire world.

Right when the second boulder was about to hit you, there was a metallic sound, and then something sliced through the boulder, cutting it in half before it could reach you. When you looked up, there was a man in black standing in front of you, twin blades held in each hand, his posture confident but wary.

“Who are you?” you said. The man did not respond, scanning the area. He must’ve determined it to be safe, as abruptly, he relaxed his stance, sheathing the swords and then shifting to face you.

You could not stop yourself from yelping. Instead of a face, there was a blue mask regarding you, frozen in a grotesque grin, though when you got over your initial surprise, you realized you recognized the guise.

“The Blue Spirit?” you said. He nodded. “I’ve read the play, but I didn’t realize that you were — that you were a real being!”

The Blue Spirit was motionless in the wake of your words. Or, no, that was not correct. It was not that he was motionless, but that every part of his body was constantly shifting and changing, on high alert, so that the sum total was a man that was both ever at rest yet ever moving.

You pulled yourself to your feet, careful not to hurt yourself on the scattered stones surrounding you both, and just then, right behind you, a door appeared. You laughed ruefully at the ironic timing.

“What were you doing here, anyways?” you said. He mimed opening his hand; you did so, your palm facing the sky, though you had no idea what he planned to do with it. But he had saved you, so you thought that there was no harm in trusting him for a moment longer.

He did not do anything as dramatic as grabbing it or carving his name into it. He just dropped something into it, something soft and light and white.

Jasmine flowers. The delicate cups of the blooms were opened, seeking out the moon, and twinkling in the starlight against the silky fibers of the petals were a few drops of water — holdovers, you assumed, from the day’s rainfall.

You closed your fingers over the flowers, careful not to crush them in your fist. You did not know what they meant — an offering? A price? Something else entirely? Regardless, you knew that they were important, and you vowed to reread the story of the Blue Spirit once you returned home, so that you could understand their significance.

“Thank you,” you said. “For the flowers, and also for rescuing me. If we should ever meet again, then I will thank you in a better way, but for now, I have to go. The longer I linger here, the more danger the two of us are put in.”

Opening the door, you took a step in, but before you closed it, you looked over your shoulder, back at where the Blue Spirit had stood. That strange person…you owed him your life. The least you could do was look back at him, afford him a final glance before you sealed yourself away entirely.

When you turned, though, he was already gone. The only proof that he had ever been there in the first place was the flowers in your hand, the pluming dust in the air, and the heart which steadily beat in your chest — that beat which meant you were still alive, at least for now.

You did not stand there and mourn his absence. Allowing the door to swing shut and the passageway to close behind you, you began to walk home.

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart

[azrielslightintheshadows]

I've got you.

Azriel x f!Reader

Request; Right now I'm kinda going mad because of uni and I came up with this idea of the reader that is like studying something to help the inner circle, but she can't find anything (or whatever came up to your mind love) and Az, her mate, try to reassure her with cuddle/kisses and lot of fluff.

Warnings; Mentions of potential death, reader feels useless

Masterlist.

Hope this is what you had in mind love <3

The words on the tenth book you were currently reading seemed like foreign symbols, your brain had turned into a mush and you groaned as you massaged your temples. Nesta’s powers disappeared when she saved Feyre from death and everyone worried that it might have an impact on her health, thus you were searching every book you could find. Rhys and Feyre wanted to help but they were preoccupied by Nyx and everyone else made sure they were safe and handled the matters of the court.  

“Come on, you can finish the book” you whispered to yourself and flinched when a deep chuckle sounded from behind you. 

“You should take a break angel” your mate’s velvety voice filled your ears and you smiled softly. He moved closer and placed those beautiful scarred hands on your shoulders massaging them. 

“I can’t stop now, I haven’t found anything and we don’t know how much time we have if it actually messes with Nesta’s health” you said and your bottom lip trembled. Nesta managed to become one of your dearest friends and just the thought of something happening to her made you want to rip your hair off. The fact that you couldn’t find something to help her broke your heart in million pieces. 

“Calm down angel, we don’t know if she is in trouble for sure, maybe that’s why you can’t find anything” he said softly and pulled your chair back, he marked the page of the book and picked you up. 

“Everything’s going to be alright” he murmured in your hair and sat on the armchair next to the big window of the study. 

“I’ve read ten books and I can’t find anything. I feel so useless right now” you confessed and hid your face in his neck. 

“You’re not useless baby, you are the only one who’s trying to find something about the situation.” He paused for a second “I think that this makes everyone else useless.” 

You shook your head with a smile “don’t say that, you’re all busy” 

“We are but that doesn’t change that you are researching without any help. Give yourself some credit and take some time to relax before you burn your sneaky brain”  he pinched your side and you gasped. 

“Stop” you whined and hugged him harder making him chuckle and kiss the top of your head. Two cups of tea appeared on the coffee table next to you and Azriel hummed, he picked one and pinched your side again to make you look. 

“I’ll return to my book if you keep this up” you feigned an annoyed expression and he smirked.

“No you will do no such thing, this is Azriel time and I’m not sharing” he scolded. 

You took the cup from him and leaned back on his chest, peeking at the view outside and enjoying his warmth. Azriel was staring outside while his hand rubbed soothing circles on your back. 

After a while you sighed and looked at him 

“I have to continue…” you trailed off with a sad smile. 

“Let me help you” he smiled and carried you to the table. 

You spent the rest of the day checking every book, even Azriel’s shadows started flipping through books.

“They can read?” You asked.

“I don’t even know anymore, they surprise me every day” he shrugged.

You kept huffing and puffing, moving from one book to another trying to make some sense but nothing. Azriel looked frustrated too and even his shadows slithered back to him looking defeated. Your eyelids started dropping and you blinked, you couldn’t stop now. You picked another book and started reading. 

You felt something cold touching your back and you hissed.

“Shh it’s okay I’ve got you” Azriel whispered, you opened your eyes and realized that he had carried you to bed. He stripped his clothes and lied next to you, pulling you on his chest and letting a sigh. 

“Get some sleep angel, tomorrow we will continue the research together” he murmured and kissed your head. 

The next day you managed to find a book with a similar story, thankfully the fae who gave away his powers survived and you both cheered and walked hand in hand to the dining room to inform everyone. 

Just before you entered the dining room you glanced at Azriel with a lovesick smile 

“What would I do without you”

Hope you enjoyed it!

@hauntedwitch04

[finalgilmoregirl]

a Jess fic somehow related to winter/Christmas?

a/n : sorry for basically falling off the face of the earth lol, here’s something small i’ve had in my drafts for almost two years. no gender specified, no y/n

i’ll be home for xmas ☆ jess mariano x reader

there was nothing like the holidays. the cold weather, no school, warm drinks, and the beautiful snow that was soon to cover stars hollow. however this year's winter had been hard to enjoy ever since jess had left to california to visit his dad. you understood why he wanted to leave town of course and had been fully supportive of his plans, but now that he had actually been gone, you felt a void in your life. i mean, calls from payphones could only accomplish so much.

you thought you could handle it. its not like the two of you were completely dependent of each other, you saw each other around town almost every day and if you went a few without talking to each other, it was nothing to worry about. now, you wish you savored your time with him, maybe went on a few more dates with him.

you currently remained laid in bed, relishing in the warmth your countless blankets gave you. it was past 11 in the morning and as you didn't have school and your parents were at work already, you were in no rush to leave your solitude. that was, until your stomach reminded you of its presence and you realized you really couldn't just stay in bed all day without suffering from hunger.

slowly sitting up, you sucked in a breath as the cold air from your bedroom made its way to your body. its now or never, you thought. bracing yourself, you ran to pick up a sweater you had discarded on your desk, quickly putting it on to provide you with some heat. and after finding your slippers, you finally made your way to the kitchen.

as you prepared yourself to make a hot drink, you glanced at the calendar on your family's fridge.

december 22nd.

christmas was just days away. you of course were looking forward to it. good food, presents, classic christmas movies on every channel. but to think that you wouldn't be able to enjoy any of it with jess by your side was a bit of a disappointment. you had only been dating for around eight months, making this your first holiday season together.

what would he have gotten you? you couldn't help but wonder. clothes? cd's? something random, yet thoughtful like a candle of your favorite scent? you chuckled at the thought of jess browsing the candle aisle at a department store.

you took your drink to your room as you looked through your closet, deciding to go for a walk, maybe even picking up a pastry at luke's or the local bakery for breakfast.

picking out some warm layers you quickly got dressed, not wanting to leave your body vulnerable of the low temperature of your home.

as you laced up your winter boots, you spotted something in the corner of your eye. from underneath your bed you saw a book peaking out. as you picked it up you quickly realized that it was one of the many jess had been pushing you to read.

it was the catcher in the rye, a classic, you remember him saying as he handed it to you.

you had gotten only a few chapters in, schoolwork taking too much of your time up for you to actually enjoy it, however now seemed as a perfect time as any to continue.

you placed in in the crook of your arm as you placed the essential wallet and keys into your jacket pockets and prepared to leave your house.

you ultimately decided against going to luke’s as you approached the middle of town, knowing that jess’ absence from the restaurant would feel more prominent. you instead bought hot chocolate at the bakery and sat by the window, so you can take in the beautiful snowy view in the moments you weren’t reading.

you couldn’t help but start thinking of jess again. about how he and luke probably would have came over for christmas dinner. you’re parents were actually quite fond of them, your mother fawning over how sweet jess was to you, and your father surprisingly having a few things in common with your boyfriend’s uncle. maybe next year you thought, sighing as you took another sip.

you were two more chapters into the book before you decided to take a break, your hot chocolate being long empty. a walk sounds nice.

you plan was interrupted however, as the moment you stepped back outside, you saw him.

jess was standing on the frosty lawn of the town’s center with his back turned, looking around, looking for you. you gasped and slowly began walking towards him, maybe you were mistaken. he wasn’t supposed to be back until new years!

“jess?” you called out, and as you approached he turned at the sound of your voice, a smile forming as he saw you. the moment you realized for sure it was him you ran, almost knocking him over with the force you hugged him with.

“hey” he laughed, a small tease in his voice at your dramatic reaction.

“what are you doing here?” you asked him.

"they don't have snow in california." you chuckled at his answer, still trying to wrap your head around his presence.

"and i um", he hesitantly added on, glad your face was buried in his shoulder. "i really missed you."

you stepped back an inch, just enough to see his face and the warm color that began to shade his cheeks. his eyes traveled all over your face, taking in the features he thought about every moment he was away from you.

you smiled widely, "are you blushing?"

"what? no!" he quickly defended, eyebrows furrowing at the laugh you tried to hide at his response. "i'm just not used to the cold anymore!"

you let out a louder laugh at that, softly kissing him before placing your chin back on his shoulder as you resumed your hug.

"yeah, okay." you responded sarcastically. then sincerely, "i really missed you too."

happy holidays ☆

[miasmal-sweetness]

Eye Level

NSFW - MDNI - 18+ ONLY

My brain is currently refusing to cooperate and work on any other writing until I spit out my dumb little one-shot with my favorite trope (size differences) with one of my favorite demons. So here ya go. Hopefully I’ll be back to writing out my planned Cloud fics afterwards.

Eye Level

Summary: Alastor x reader. 4.1k. You're short. You know it, everyone at the hotel knows it. You've assumed that it's some sort of divine punishment for whatever sins you committed while alive, but it's really not so bad, as long as no one hides your step-stool. Today, you've found a new problem with it, though, when you try to get a little closer to your favorite 7-foot-tall demon.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, dead dove do not eat, size difference (reader reaches Alastor’s hips), smut, reader is gender-neutral with reference to having a vagina, reader wears a dress and bloomers, Alastor being sadistic, reader being a masochist, Alastor calls you “good girl” because I’m a sucker for it

The red light of the sky outside is bleeding in to the hotel, burning your eyes and causing an ache in your head. You want to shut it out, but Niffty is busy cleaning all the windows. Rubbing your right temple, you shift on the couch in an attempt to angle yourself away from the worst of the light as you continue to read your book. The words on the page seem harsher than before against the rough, yellowed pages. In addition to Earth’s actual sunlight, you also find yourself missing the convenience of heading out to the pharmacy to pickup some painkillers that weren’t illicit substances.

“Something the matter, dearest?”

You lift your head at the sound of Alastor’s voice. He’s blocking the light as he stands in front of you, his long shadow easing the pain in your head. You have to crane your neck to look at his smiling face, but you’re used to it at this point.

“Oh, I just have a headache,” you say with a light shrug. “I’m okay. How are you doing?”

“Wonderful as always, darling,” he assures. “Why don’t you join me for a cup of coffee upstairs? I’ve found it works like a charm for a headache.”

You perk up at the thought. It’s a little late in the day to have coffee, but you’re not one to turn down a drink and a snack with Alastor. You take care of most of the cooking for the hotel, since Niffty took over your old job of cleaning, so having something made by another person is a nice treat. Plus, he’s good company—he’s the most polite person you think you’ll ever meet in Hell.

“I’d love to,” you say, sliding off of the couch. You smooth out your dress and tuck your book under your arm; you can finish it another time. Your certain that if you were taller, Alastor would do the gentlemanly thing you see him do with others and link arms with you, but that’s not really possible at your height. Instead, he leads the way by engulfing your little hand with his.

You’re barely focused on the small-talk he makes with you as he guides you up the stairs. His gloves are smooth, and you can feel his claws tickling the skin on your wrist and hand. You know that, as much as Alastor enjoys invading other people’s personal space, he does not enjoy allowing others in to his personal space. Despite this, he has been rather open to your presence; picking you up, holding your hand, ruffling your hair. It feels nice. It makes you feel special—like he’s bestowing an honor on you just by patting you on the head, one that the others don’t get.

You nearly trip over a step, and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Alastor stops you from hitting the ground by extending his arm, letting you put your weight on him for balance.

“Careful, dearest,” he chides, “I’m not always here to catch you.”

Your headache is back, caused by the heat rushing to your face and chest. “Right, thank you,” you mumble, ducking your head. “I-I was just thinking.”

“About what?” You should have seen that coming.

Your eyes dart around as he guides you towards his room. “Uh, j-just—the book you lent me,” you spit out. “I’m almost finished with it. It’s really good.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he says, holding open the door for you. “It’s not often I meet another down here that enjoys a good book.”

You smile and step in to his room—immediately, you’re hit by the scent of paper, candles, wood that is well-cared for, and decaying leaves and other plant matter. You know his room changes. You know that what you see is different from what the others see when they enter. You’ve heard them mention the swamp that makes up half of the room, often complete with a decaying deer. Every time he has invited you in, however, it has been nothing other than a lovely room that looks like it belongs in some fancy townhome from the 1920s.

Just another thing that makes you feel special.

“If you have a favorite book, I’d love to read it,” you suggest as you slip out of your shoes.

Alastor’s grin grows even wider than usual. “Really? Well, I’ll have to think about it; I have quite a few in my collection that I favor.” It’s a lie, an excuse to put this off for later. There’s something he doesn’t want you to see. You can sense it, deep down in your gut, but you ignore it. He’s always shielded your eyes from the bad—from the gore of Hell, from those that would try to take advantage of you, even from some of the arguments among the others. This is no different.

Moving on from the topic, Alastor snaps his fingers, and a tray of coffee and small snacks appear on his dining table. He’s added cream and sugar for you; he doesn’t understand your sweet-tooth, but he does indulge it.

“Oh, and a treat for you, little one.”

He snaps his fingers again, and when you next blink your eyes, you find that a dish has appeared on the tray. It’s a slice of cake—the same you remember ogling outside the bakery window the last time you went outside the hotel. The hotel doesn’t offer payment for your services, so your measly pocket change was not enough to get it. He must have noticed your longing for that delicious, soft piece of cake. You don’t even remember the last time you had the luxury of cake. The last time was probably when you were alive, and you have the feeling it was one of those store-bought cakes that are dry and covered in thick, sickeningly sweet icing.

This cake is fancy. This cake is fluffy and standing tall, covered in berries and whipped cream with just the right amount of sweetness. And most of all—it means that Alastor paid that much attention to you on a silly outing that he didn’t need to be a part of.

“Thank you, Alastor!”

You throw out your arms and wrap them around him. It’s a chance as good as any. The closest you have come to hugging him is when he’s picked you up and carried you around like a doll. Surely a gift like this means he would be okay with it—although, the second you touch him, you realize you’re probably reading a little too much in to a slice of cake, and maybe it’s because you forgot to eat lunch.

Your arms wrapped around his legs, your feet in between his. And now you remember just how short you are compared to him. Normally, you’re either staring at the ground or you’re turning your head all the way up to look at his face, which makes it easy to forget that your head reaches an… unfortunate location that you have just unknowingly pushed yourself against.

Your face is burning again. Your head is throbbing. If you weren’t already condemned to Hell, this would probably have gotten you in. Your cheek is right against his groin. You fear looking up at his face for a reaction, but you do it anyway and see that, despite his smile, he looks to be just as shocked as you, if not more. And then it changes. The shock is fading. His eyes are getting darker, and that strange look in his eyes—one that you’ve never seen on him—is directed at you.

You force your body in to action. “I-I’m sorry!” you squawk, stumbling away from him. “Um! I-I just—I was excited; I didn’t mean to—uh, s-sorry, sorry!” You’re clumsily making your way back towards the door, nearly slipping from the lack of friction your socks have on the polished floor.

Alastor takes a step closer to you, and you bristle, picking up the pace. “Ma cher, don’t—”

“Sorry!” you cry one last time, slipping out the door and in to the safety of the hallway. You dash to the end of it and around a corner, where you wait to hear any signs of him following. Nothing. The only thing you hear is your own racing heart and the blood rushing through your body. You feel hot, shaky, and a little sweaty—your feet are sweating through your socks.

Your socks.

You forgot your fucking shoes in his room.

Groaning, you sink down to the floor and peel off your socks, freeing your overheated feet. You replay the event in your mind as you stare emptily at your toes, wiggling them all one by one. You just had to go and try to hug him—you couldn’t just be patient and wait for him to one day, just maybe, initiate it himself. At the very least, you could have been more careful. You think it might have been a nice hug otherwise. You can still feel the crisp fabric of his pants and the warmth he radiates; you can smell the light scent of smoke and cologne on his clothes. The button of his pants had been against your cheek, and you have no control against the intrusive thought of how the bulge in his pants had felt.

Smacking your cheeks with your palms, you shake your head, as though it would toss the thought out. You need to stop being a little creep and get your shoes. You have one pair of shoes, and you are not willing to walk barefoot anywhere in Pentagram City. The longer you leave them there, the more likely you are to abandon them entirely in hopes of never having a confrontation with Alastor. Well… maybe you could ask Charlie to get you a new pair of shoes? You groan at yourself; you’re already trying to get out of it.

You push yourself to your feet and dust off the skirt of your dress. You take quiet, slow steps towards his room. You can do this. Just don’t think about it. Did he like it? No, stop it. Did it excite him, like it excited you? Stop that! You’re wet—maybe from fear, maybe from arousal. Your hands are shaking as you reach for the doorknob. You contemplate whether it would be best to knock or simply crack the door open and grab your shoes without entering. Alastor is polite, though; you know he’d much rather you be decent and knock.

Heart racing, chest heaving with tiny and anxious breaths, you tap your knuckles against the door. It opens almost immediately.

“Yes, dearest? Have you calmed down now?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at his face; instead, you resort to looking at your bare feet. “I—um, I realized I forgot my shoes here,” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

He laughs at this—it makes you shiver, and you hope he doesn’t notice. “You were in quite the hurry,” he teases. “What scared you so badly, darling?”

You mean to simply snatch your shoes and flee, but the moment you cross the threshold, he’s closed the door behind you. Your heart is pounding, as though it thinks you’re sprinting down a hallway from a monster. But it’s just Alastor! He’s never harmed you, only kept you safe—and yet, you feel like you’re caught in a trap. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating from behind you; he’s close, and for once, you wish he’d be less comfortable with you in his personal space. Despite this, you can’t bring your dumb feet to move. You are caught like a deer in headlights.

“What’s wrong, pet?” He’s never called you that before. It’s new and exciting, even though you internally scold yourself for the warm feeling building up in the depths of your gut. “Why have you gone quiet? You’re not ignoring me, are you?”

His fingers ghost over your hair as he speaks, his hand finally coming to rest on your shoulder. It’s not as though you’re hiding your discomfort well, but that doesn’t stop him. Alastor’s left hand comes from behind you and cups your chin, slowly drawing you back until your spine touches his leg. You shut your eyes. You won’t look at him; it makes you feel at least a little less exposed, even if you know he can see the red in your face all the same.

“I don’t appreciate the silent treatment, dearest,” he warns, giving your cheeks a squeeze. “I guess I’ll have to find a way to snap you out of it.”

You’re lifted off of your feet; the sudden feeling of instability makes you open your eyes, even though you try to resist. Before you can register it, Alastor has dropped you on his bed—a bed that seems rarely used—and is now kneeling before you.

“You’ve been terribly rude, pet,” he chides, resting his hand on your knee. “First you get so close to me, then you run off and leave me wanting? Now you come back and refuse to say a word to me.” He clicks his tongue in disdain; its the feeling of his claws digging in to your skin that truly express his displeasure. You shift in place, but keep your mouth sealed. Your mind is blank, anyhow.

When his claws pierce your skin, you move out of reflex, jerking your leg away from his hand. Alastor’s grip is iron-clad and holds you in place so tightly that you can’t even move it a millimeter. Your skin feels hot and cold at the same time, and goosebumps are running up and down your arms. Your mind is getting hazy, to the point that your vision blurs as his other hand creeps up the skirt of your dress.

You try to control your breaths, try to look anywhere other than him. He’s relishing the sight of you as his fingers curl around the waistband of your frilly bloomers. He grips your hip harshly—you know it will leave a reminder in the form of a bruise later. His thumb lightly brushes over your clit, and your toes curl in response. It’s like he’s fascinated by the response your body has to it; he’s watching every twitch, shiver, and shake as he toys with you. Finally, a mewl escapes your lips. Something about the noise draws him out of whatever it is that he’s thinking, and he looks you in the eyes.

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman, darling,” he says, relaxing his grip on you. “So… yes or no?”

This is closer to the Alastor you’re familiar and comfortable with. He looks so calm and pleased that it’s like it’s just another day for him, one where he does not have his hand in your underwear and he’s just making you feel special by gracing you with a pat on your head. The familiarity is reassuring, and you’re such a sucker for how special he makes you feel, so surely there’s no harm in this…

“Yes,” you finally eke out.

Alastor’s grin widens; his thumb immediately resumes teasing you. His other hand strokes up and down your thigh, his claws tickling you and leaving red streaks in their wake. You moan again and are met with the reminder of his watchful gaze; unable to take the feeling of scrutiny anymore, you grab the lapel of his coat and tug on it.

You hear him chuckle and crack your eyes open again. He’s released you—for now—to shrug off his coat and set it aside.

“An eye for an eye, pet?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to agree to this suggestion; he pops open the buttons on the back of your dress in one quick motion. Your dress is pulled from your body, leaving you and your bloomers entirely exposed. You instinctively cover your chest with your forearm. This is hardly an eye for an eye—and you know, deep down, that he knows that and enjoys every bit of imbalance between you two. And you do, too, even if you don’t want to admit it.

His hands are on you again, this time running up and down your waist, back, thighs, and chest. He’s parting your legs and moving in between them, leaning down to press his lips to your throat. You whimper, now suffocated by the dizzying smell of tobacco. Alastor gives you a gentle peck, before his teeth graze your delicate skin and earn a moan from you. You instinctively bristle from the delightful pain, and he pushes your legs apart again.

“Relax, sha,” he murmurs against your neck. “Relax. Would I let you get hurt?”

Yes. He absolutely would. You know that, and you stuff it down. Who cares? Who cares if you get a little hurt? If he lets it happen? If he’s the one to do it, if he’s the one watching and enjoying it, that’s all that really matters.

So you relax for him and melt in to his touch, letting him guide you down to the soft bed. You don’t resist when your bloomers come off. You’re completely exposed to him, and he’s simply standing over you, grinning at the sight. The one sacrifice he does make is his gloves, shedding them to feel your skin in its full glory. His hands are much warmer without his gloves on; the feeling of them rubbing your legs is soothing.

“Alastor,” you mewl—for a moment, you realize just how pathetic and weak you sound, but decide that it’s fine to be pathetic and weak for him and slip back in to your haze. For every inch of fog clouding your mind, Alastor seems to gain a new degree of focus. You can’t tell exactly what it is he’s so focused on, so hungry for, but you enjoy it all the same.

“You sound so lovely when you say my name.” His voice sounds so different now—animalistic, growling. Your heart rate spikes again, but you’re not about to back out now, so you enjoy the adrenaline rush as you gaze up at the ceiling. You hear a shift of fabric, feel him moving between your legs as he looms over you. He slips one hand underneath you to feel the small of your back, and you finally realize what he’s about to—

“Ahh!” you hiss, curling your spine as you reflexively try to escape the source of the pain. You’re brought back to the reality of your situation for a brief moment; Alastor is over seven feet tall, you are definitely not, and he is definitely entirely proportionate for his height. It hurts, worse than anything you think you’ve felt before. You feel like you’re splitting open, despite how wet you are and the fact that he’s barely inside of you.

Alastor’s hands hold you in place by your hip and your arm. You can feel his own excitement and agitation from the tightness of his grip—so tight he’s trembling in the slightest—and the hint of sweat on his palms. “Behave, sha,” he orders through his teeth. He’s trying to suppress your squirming as much as possible, but you can still wriggle in his grip, and every movement of your hips sends a wave of pleasure through him. “Relax and behave.”

Your body is slowly adjusting to the pain, and his voice is bringing you back to that lovely, pleasurable haze. You force yourself to stay still and breathe through it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs with a sigh. “Good girl.” You shudder at the words, and he pushes himself further inside of you. You don’t struggle this time; you simply yelp in pain and squeeze your eyes shut to bear it. He releases your arm to grab you by your chin, forcing your head up. You open your eyes, your face contorted in pain; he’s smiling, of course. It’s a feral, sadistic smile, but it’s not quite the same one you’ve seen before he rips apart some idiot trying to wreck the hotel. This one is different, and you hope it’s one he’s reserved only for you. No matter how frightening it is, you’ll still delight in the honor.

You manage to relax a little more, having adjusted to the feeling of being torn in two. Alastor sighs at the feeling and once again pushes further inside of you. Every effort of yours to behave will be rewarded like this—with more pain, blood, and tears that prick your eyes. You had your chance to say no. You still could. But you don’t. You’re special. He wants you. And you want him—you want him to degrade you, too.

“It hurts, doesn’t it, sha?” he coos in a tone of faux concern. Still, you whimper and nod, curling your fingers in to the linens beneath you. “I know, pet, I know. It must hurt terribly.” Another inch inside of you, another swallowed scream.

“P-please,” you beg. You barely even realize the words are spilling out of your mouth. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”

“You can,” he assures, his hand moving down to your throat. No matter how much he wants to, he doesn’t squeeze. Not yet. He’ll save that for another time, another day. There’s nothing wrong with denying a bit of pleasure now to make it sweeter later. “You can and you will. I will make you.”

You try to scream when you feel the sensation of a burning, sharp pain pierce further inside of you, but he clamps his hand over your mouth.

“No,” he breathes. “You won’t make a sound unless you’re quiet about it. I am the only one who can hear you. This is just for me.”

You swallow back the scream; it feels like it’s still stuck in your chest, making it ache as it tries to beat its way out through your sternum. It’s too painful to breathe. Every single movement is painful. This is as far as he can go without really hurting you—without you truly breaking apart. You can smell blood. You feel like you can maybe taste it, too. The sight of it only spurs him on, and he pounds in to you without any concern for the pain it will cause you.

You can’t even scream; it’s too sudden. Once the waves of pain truly set in, you let out a weak cry and grab on to his arms in an effort to steady yourself. Spots of all colors are appearing in your vision as the sounds of the room—skin against skin, muffled groans that he’s trying to hold back, your own crying—get further and further away. Your grip on him loosens, and he notices.

“I can’t keep going if you’re sleeping, pet,” Alastor taunts, grabbing you by your chin and squeezing. When your pupils only dilate further, he takes a handful of your hair and pulls, giving your head a shake. That does it; you’re awake enough, for now. “There you are.”

You can’t escape the pain. You just have to live with it. Any time he sees you slipping out of consciousness, you’re awakened with a sharp jolt of pain. And now his movements are too fast, too harsh to even begin to pass out. Tears freely flow down your face at this point, as freely as the blood pooling beneath your thighs.

“A-Alastor,” you sob, one hand reaching up for him. “Please.”

The pathetic sight of you stupidly reaching for him is what sends him over the edge. His claws curl in to your skin, and blood drips on to the linens beneath you. He’s looming over you as you feel warmth replace the feeling of an icy knife in your belly, spilling out of you and on to your legs. His eyes are closed, he’s panting, and his brow is furrowed. You like the sight of it, but you can’t fully enjoy it when he’s still causing you so much pain.

Finally, his eyes open, and he pulls away from you without warning, sending another ripple of pain through you. You’re throbbing. You feel like you’ve been impaled and suffocated. You definitely did not cum. And yet, when the look on his face softens, the pain lessens. He’s back to the gentleman you know and adore.

“Oh dear,” he sighs, resting his cheek against his hand—a hand covered in your blood. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

As he helps you bathe and feeds you a potion to help heal some of your wounds, you let that haze settle in permanently in a part of your brain. As long as he makes you feel special, as long as he calls you sweetheart and pet and sha, you’ll take whatever pain he throws at you.

[dranathedragon]

I’m a D&D nerd, who is currently obsessed with Dead Boy Detectives, so of course the “What class would everyone be?” thought has been tickling me. I’ve seen a few other people post their thoughts on it, and I’ve been reading the amazing “Messrs Payne and Rowland’s Adventuring Agency” by @terresdebrume whenever it updates. Seriously, it’s really good, highly recommend. So I figured I’d throw my hat in the ring and see what anyone else’s thoughts are while I’m at it. Just doing the core four in this post.

So let’s get the easy one out of the way first, Crystal. She’s 100% a sorcerer, her power comes from her bloodline, she was born with it. Because she’s psychic based I’d say she’s specifically an Aberrant Mind sorcerer, without all the deep space tentacle monster baggage. Though she does have disembodied floating eyeballs in her psyche so MAYBE!

Next up is the second easiest, Edwin. He’s a wizard, everyone knows he’s a wizard. What KIND of wizard though? I’m going with Order of Scribes. He loves that little notebook so much, it gained sentience. How awesome would it be, if in this D&D version of the show, Edwin’s notebook didn’t follow him to hell because it was his sentient spell book, and it stayed behind with a purpose? It stayed behind because it KNEW Charles would never leave Edwin there and he would attempt a rescue. It KNEW Charles would go, and it KNEW it had to stay behind to help him. It showed him the things he needed to see, the information and maps that would reunite him with their wizard. I just love that.

Next up is Charles. He was a little tougher. I’ve seen quite a few posts saying that he’s a barbarian, and at this, I must object. At least with the criteria I’m using I suppose. Charles’ power doesn’t come from his rage. The one time we see him using his rage to fight, Edwin’s horrified and worried reaction pretty much confirms this was wildly out of character for him.

Just as an aside, I’m a firm believer of when Edwin said, “That was extreme”, he wasn’t talking about knocking the night nurse off the cliff. He was talking about Charles’ reaction in general, it was an extreme REACTION. He’d never seen Charles act with that much anger, hate, and violence before. He’s not an attacker, he’s a defender. It scared him, but he was scared FOR Charles, not OF him. Our wizard just isn’t great at people’ing. That’s a discussion for a different post though! Back to the topic at hand!

So, if I don’t think he’s a barb, what is he? Well, I’ve got two possible options. One thing that’s said quite a bit in the show, is how charismatic Charles is. And let’s face it, he is. So, using that logic, I’d say he could possibly be a Paladin. Specifically, an Oath of Devotion Paladin. I mean, come on, his power would so come from his extreme devotion to his favorite wizard. That would be a fun one, but there’s my second option which I find slightly more plausible.

It’s shown multiple times in the show, that while Charles claims to be just the brawn, he’s actually very clever and capable of thinking outside the box. Not to mention, he’s all about magic items. Bag of holding, enchanted cricket bat, enchanted jar/paper weight, enchanted lullaby ball, the disguises, the list goes on. So he’s smart and specializes in magic items, that screams Artificer. I’d say he’s a Battle Smith Artificer, some of their specialty spells are based around defending/supporting their allies, and you can’t tell me he wouldn’t find having a little robot pet, sorry STEEL DEFENDER, completely aces. He’d also name it like “Steve” or something and treat it like it was his and Edwin’s child, fight me on that lol. (Jk, don’t fight me I don’t like conflict!) Update: Charles’ lock picking has been mentioned and it just added to this for me as Artificers get expertise in thieves’ tools. How did I forget this?!

So that leaves Niko, who is kind of the wild card. I saw at least one post saying she’d be a bard, but I don’t think that’s accurate. Bards are all about attention (well mostly, I guess whispers would be an exception but she wouldn’t be a whispers anyway) and the whole sprite possession thing seemed to kinda make her uncomfortable with it. Idk, it just doesn’t really fit right to me. On the same thread though, so far in the show, Niko’s only real power is to see the dead. That might be expanded if we get a second season (🤞🏻), but for right now, that’s all she’s got other than being a good friend and excellent reading comprehension skills (which I might revisit this using that last one later). That said, since she got that ability (technically) because of the sprites (more because they almost killed her, but also they’re with her in the igloo so this still might work!) I’d say Niko is a Warlock. Just by the by, I hate that the class is called “Warlock”. That’s a word that came from an old English word meaning “oath breaker or he who breaks their oath”. Warlocks are all about MAKING not BREAKING pacts. Just a weird choice but MOVING ON! Since the sprites seem kind of Fey, I’d say she’d be a Pact of the Archfey. Nothing to do with the pact’s skill set, since we’d have nothing to compare it to, just because they seem fey to me.

So that’s what I’ve got so far. I might think of other characters’ later, like what would Jenny be etc. What do you guys think? I like to hear other people’s opinions on this! It’s fun to bat around!

[hotdamnhunnam]

✨ Tag Game ✨

Okay so the weekend totally got away from me, but I am now doing this FINALLY, tho I know I’m sooo late to the party 🙃

Thank you all so much for tagging me lovelies 🥹💕 @whatever-lmaoo @honeydewwboo @daryldixonpls @puffins-muffins @songsforthesaints

Not tagging anybody, as I’m pretty sure that most of my tumblr loves have been tagged/played this game already! 😘

………………………………

I feel like my answers to these (especially re: tattoos/piercings) expose the fact that I’m pretty boring honestly 😅

last song you listened to? “Wait - Kygo Remix [2024 Edit]” 🎶 I love the original M83 song sooo much (@red-orchid I know you feel me on this!! 💞) and have also been loving this remix!

silver or gold jewelry? I love both, and often change it up to match my clothes, but lately I’ve been leaning into the gold layering that’s been trending, as my jewelry collection happens to include a bunch of different gold chains and pendants! 🌟

do you have any tattoos? Nope 🙂‍↔️ I’m too much of a baby about anything painful unless Charlie is inflicting it on me lol

piercings? Nope 🙂‍↔️ Again I’m a baby and thankfully there are enough holes in my body for Charlie to fuck already

currently reading or favorite book? Hmm I haven’t read anything (book or fic) in far too long but will say that the last fic I read is Part 4 of Breathe by my bestie @laurfilijames and that it remains my favorite fic I’ve ever read (though I’m currently woefully behind on it 🥲) and that it’ll be the first thing I pick up when my brain is in the right state to read again, and for anyone who’s not already reading it I highly recommend!! 💖

a hobby you would like to try? Sucking Charlie’s cock 24/7 (more a full-time job than a hobby I suppose but anyway that shit would be literal heaven 🤴🏼🍆🛐)

coffee or tea? I love both brews, but tea if I must choose! 🫖

favorite video game? I don’t think I’ve ever actually played a video game unless Tetris on my laptop counts as one lmaooo, even that I haven’t played since back in college though 😆

star sign? Capricorn ♑️🐐 and idk the other info sorry 🙈

who is your hear me out? Well I am a very one-track hoe who is thirsty for one man only (I know this is so atypical of me) — the one character of Charlie’s for whom I CANNOT bring myself to thirst is Bosie (fugly bastard in Cold Mountain 🤢), and his upcoming role in Monster is a whole other story (horrified to imagine him playing Ed Gein 🫣), but among the rest of his roles, I can’t think of any that are hear-me-outy lol… maybe this guy below?? ⬇️ (just came up in the gif search but wtf is this I don’t even know 😂 lmaooo would still smash tho)

[doomed2repeat]

About Theo and Eloise:

In my humble opinion:

Theo’s use as a character is to encourage Eloise to look past the surface of people. Of course he’s there to introduce her to romantic attraction, but in a very specific way, and it’s to start developing a sense of what she might like in a partner. Just because someone is perfect for you superficially does not mean they actually are, and for a character like Eloise patience and discernment are going to be very important for her storyline.

🛑 If you really really love Theo or Theloise and think they should be endgame, please stop now… 🛑

We got foreshadowing of this when Violet tries to hook Eloise up with that ton guy at the Hearts and Flowers ball. Violet picks him out for Eloise because she says he shares her rebelliousness. And that guy is rebellious and is looking for someone different, just like Violet says. But his personality is all wrong for Eloise and it crashes and burns pretty much immediately.

Theo is said to be “perfect” for Eloise. And on the surface, he might seem so. He’s a radical. He’s political. But those are his interests. Not his personality.

So let’s really look at his personality. Theo is one of the most condescending and patronizing people Eloise comes across. When he first meets her, he talks down to her, making assumptions of her based on her gender and class. Their initial banter is the stuff of meet cutes, which glosses over WHY they were bantering back and forth like that in the first place- he immediately underestimated her intelligence upon seeing her.

It’s debatable why she accepted it from him vs the other guy, but I think the biggest issue is that unlike the guy Eloise danced with at the ball, Eloise has a reason to keep talking to him despite him showing the same attitude that left her running from the ballroom floor. She needed him for something, so it was worth continuing to engage, and engaging with him for longer allows her crush to grow.

Eloise is going to be a character who needs time to really fall in love. And so she is going to need to develop the capacity for more patience for other people than her character currently has. She’s often impulsive and makes snap decisions, but Theo forces her out of that by being a character she has to work with. Which is a great thing! Through Theo, Eloise gets to explore more of her interests, which is not nothing! Credit where credit is due, she’s obviously going to want that in a partner, and I would hope any relationship they write for her would have that as an element to it. It’s valuable for her to learn that that’s possible as she starts to develop her sense of taste in men.

But he’s also not the ONE yet, which is also valuable for her.

When Eloise doesn’t kiss Theo he blows up at her. He lashes out and accuses her of being just like every other lady. Going back to the foreshadowing from the Hearts and Flowers ball, there’s some irony here- there, Eloise gets offended because the man implies that she’s Not Like Other Girls. Here, that is used against her. Theo thinks Eloise should act a certain way because she’s rebellious, but when he dismisses her as a prude, he once again reveals the superficiality of his politics when it comes to praxis.

At the time I watched S2, I hadn’t yet read the books, but I’ve read them since, and this is very similar to a scene from TSPWL, where Eloise is trying to discuss something serious with Phillip, who is trying to kiss her instead. We don’t know yet whether that scene will make it to the show or not, since show Phillip seems to have a somewhat different storyline from the books, but it was a deliberate choice to use that as a reason for Theo to lash out at Eloise in the show, and I think it’s actually about Eloise’s growth. In the similar scene in the book, she calls Phillip out for this behavior while in the show Eloise just cries. Somewhere between age 18 and 28, she won’t take it, even from men she likes, which is, frankly pretty realistic. Even the most radical feminists sometimes take BS from the “radical” first boyfriends they date as teenagers. Eloise has a realistic mix of strength and vulnerability, and Theo hit a vulnerable spot for her. She’s a feminist, but she has very little real world experience with relationships between men and women outside of her brothers, and Theo is a valuable storyline to create that experience, so that when she is ready (hopefully 10 years on, I’m team time jump Eloise), she’ll have the combination of patience and discernment necessary to find and keep the right person for her.

When it comes to Sir Phillip specifically, Eloise is interested in his words first. They write letters back and forth, they never meet in person before Phillip proposes, so we know physical attraction has nothing to do with it. When she runs off to meet him she’s partially there to assess his personality. See how he actually acts. And he’s not perfect. But even as flawed characters they ultimately compliment rather than clash. In the books we know she had been courted before and turns down multiple proposals, so she had enough experiences with men to know where she stands. Eloise was never going to settle for the first man who liked her, or even the first man she thought she might like, and in fact, so many happily married women have that story of “wow, if I had married the guy I was with at 18 it would be a disaster.” Eloise is getting that with Theo.

Because imagine Theo and Eloise long term. Imagine their verbal sparring when they’re fully on Theo’s turf, with Eloise as his wife. His condescension would get old so fast with Theo always having the upper hand. Eloise likes the buzz and mental stimulation of their banter, but ultimately she’s a woman who likes to be right, and likes to feel like she’s being heard and respected. Theo likes the novelty of a woman like Eloise, but prefers when he’s in the teachable position- giving her books to read, taking her to rallies, etc- and not when her needs don’t line up with his desires.

I won’t claim to know how they’re going to do Phillip in the show for Eloise’s season, other than what we all know the changes they’ve already made to his backstory with Marina and the twins. But I do think counting him out already by claiming Theo is “perfect” for Eloise is a pretty shallow read on what’s been seen and what’s still possible for her.

[whatitsdecending]

Chokehold: Pt. IV

Vessel x Reader x Noah Sebastian

Things have already become a little messy as you spend more time in the UK. Lies being made and overwhelming thoughts are occupying your mind, despite the need for that to not even exist.

A/N: I did not realize how quickly two weeks just flew by since I last updated… so here’s a longer part with some drama for all of you<3

Word Count: 6.3k

Content warning: instances of extreme anxiety and overthinking, distressing situations, sexual tendencies, harassment, violence

—————————

“Hey pretty girl, I’ve been waiting for you to call.” Hearing his voice on the other end nearly blindsided you. Although you were the one to initiate the call, him actually picking up is what had you nervous.

“Hey Noah.” You responded, running your hand under the water coming from the faucet to check the temperature. You heard the sound of him shuffling around, presumably in his bed due to what time it’d currently be in LA.

“Are you taking a bath right now?” He asked, you could hear the tone of his voice perk up. You roll your eyes, typical Noah. “What are you getting ready for?”

You sink into the warm water and sighed when it hit your sore cunt, knowing you’re going to be feeling all of that for the rest of the day and into tomorrow. “Nothing, I just needed to take a bath. So what’s up with the sudden urge to talk to me?” His chuckle echoed through your phone speakers and bounced around the bathroom walls, not even giving you a chance before you find yourself smiling at it.

“I miss you that’s why.” He eventually says. “How did that technology detox go? Feeling less whacked out on it?” You snorted as you remembered the excuse you told Noah yesterday after the plane landed, technology detox… how convincing.

“Yeah… feeling like I should read more now and empower my brain with that rather than a screen.” You cupped water in your hands and splashed it onto your shoulders, not wanting to fully sink into the tub because you know you’d never get out.

“Don’t you read enough already?” Noah’s serious tone wrapped around you like a glove. One of the many things that irked you a bit about him was how much he enjoyed poking fun at your hobby for reading. He’d never been the one to just sit down with one of the books you recommended and actually see why you liked it so much. “I think you need to get out of your apartment more. Maybe come spend some time out in LA with me?”

There it was.

You squeezed your eyes shut. He was so quick to say it too, he couldn’t at least ask how you’ve been first? You didn’t know how to respond and once again found yourself fumbling to put a sentence together. Your best choice would be to tell him the truth, every single piece of it too. But yet something nagged at you from the back of your mind, does he really deserve the truth?

“You’re a little late for that Noah.” You responded, taking the folded cloth on the edge of the tub and adding body wash to it and began to gently clean yourself.

“Of course I am, let me guess you’re away at your parents house?” Well, if you insist. The smile that tugged at your lips was devilish, knowing that this will become much easier without him having a clue.

“I am. I spent my technology detox catching up with them.” You hoped you were sounding convincing enough for Noah. He’s gotten pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to him, so you grit your teeth as you await his response.

A chuckle from the line filled the silence. “That’s good to hear, Y/N. I know you were missing them. Chicago is still looking nice this time of year?”

You laughed at his attempts to make such casual conversation with you, any kind of conversing the two of you did ended with him fucking you senseless. “It’s nice, a little cold. It’s snowing here too.” You looked out the window that was tucked away a bit in the bathroom, giving some form of privacy despite the fact that Vessel had no neighbors. The snow had stopped falling sometime ago but the white dust that covered every piece of nature outside was relaxing to stare at, especially now that Noah had brought up being home.

Home. You mentally punched yourself in the gut over the fact that you just hopped on a plane to go all the way to London to stay with a man you’d only seen in person once, but constantly forgot to make trips back home to see your parents. You didn't even tell them you were coming here… That’s going to have to be another phone call you make today.

“I’m sure the snow is nice right now.” Noah snickered a little over the line until you heard another voice that sounded like Jolly calling for him. “Ahh duty calls, I must help Jolly move some shit around.”

“Tell him I said hi please!” You say enthusiastically.

“I will, but I better go before he comes in here and drags me out of my bed. Talk later?” The hope in his voice at the end is what made you want to sink into the water and never return.

“Of course Noah. Now go help Jolly out before he kills you.” You laughed a bit at the end as you could hear the door opening to Noah’s room, Jolly’s voice ringing out as he grew impatient. There was a little bit of a scuffle and some mumbled arguing then the call ended. You stared at your phone that rested on the ledge next to the tub now that it's gone silent, leaving the distant sounds of Vessel cooking in the kitchen to bring you back to reality.

You rested your head back against the tub and took a deep breath. For some reason you could not shake the anxiety that racked your body after the call with Noah, it came out of nowhere and made your chest feel tight. You took long and deep breaths, knowing this method usually helped when it came to your anxiety. But this time it made you feel worse.

The thoughts you tried to hold back hit you all at once. What the hell are you doing here? Why did you say yes? You have feelings for Vessel, but were they really enough for you to come all the way here? And if Noah had asked you before he did, would this be a completely different situation? Most certainly it’d be very different, but you didn’t even want to think about that.

You stared blankly at the water that has gone from warm to a cooler temperature and left your fingers pruned. Your foot moved through the water and you watched how swiftly it moved through the liquid, it was easy. If only your life could be like that, an ease to move through. But at this point it feels like you're moving through setting concrete.

And what if Vessel only wanted you here because he was bored and wanted something to do until he went back on tour? What if all those small things he did for you was just a facade? The second he leaves for tour is the second he stops caring about you, the second that all this gets thrown away and you’re left struggling once again to find the type of affection he gave you. He could so easily walk out of your life like so many have done before, what could possibly make him any different?

Hands gripped your arms tightly, pulling you out from the trance you’d put yourself in. Your eyes burned underneath the water when you opened them and your lungs screamed at you for air. Your body was pulled up from the position it had sunk into, allowing for you to take a deep breath and wipe the water from your eyes. Vessel was yelling but it sounded muffled to you, his eyes were wide with fear as you watched his mouth to try to figure out what he was saying.

“…Y/N please just focus on me.” You perked up once your ears had unclogged themselves and his voice was finally audible. “Jesus Christ you gave me a fucking heart attack.” His hand gripped tightly on your forearm, seemingly holding you up from slipping back under.

“What happened?” You asked. The confusion you felt from how you even ended up like that in the first place was all that came to mind as you tried piecing everything together.

Vessel sighed and pushed your hair behind your ear. “I don’t know. I came up here to tell you dinner was ready, when you didn’t answer I got a bad feeling and walked in on you just under the water and not moving.” He sounded terrified and looked like it too, he had tears threatening to break from his eyes as he spoke. “Why? Why would you try to do this to yourself?”

“I-’’ You didn’t know how to answer that. “I didn't intend for that to happen.” The look on his face broke your heart. He looked like he was so afraid to lose you, and in that moment you hated yourself for all that had run through your mind just moments before. His eyes searched yours for more than what you were giving him, he eventually gave up and sighed, pulling you to him and kissing your forehead.

“We can talk about that whenever you're ready.” He says quietly, holding you as tightly as he could. “Let’s get you out before you start turning blue again.” He lightheartedly said, standing up with his hands still wrapped around your arms which brings you to stand with him. He guided you to step out of the tub and onto the mat on the floor, taking the towel that was set aside for you and wrapping it around your body. He had you sit down on the toilet so he could towel dry your hair, his torso was pushed against your back as he carefully ran the towel through the strands.

“I can do this myself, Ves.” You say as he searched for a comb.

“You’re a delicacy at the moment. Anyways, I don’t mind it one bit.” He rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, looking for where you put your comb.

“Middle drawer on the left, it’s purple.” He happily pulled the drawer open and grabbed the comb, admiring the shade of purple that it was. He came back to you and gently ran it through your hair, being careful not to tug too hard when it came to any knots that formed. He focused until each strand was pristine and knot free, placing a kiss on the back of your head as a way to appreciate his work.

“What drawer do you keep your pajamas in?” He asked as he went towards the bedroom.

“Oh Ves please, you do not need to do any more for me.” You stood to protest him, following him out of the bathroom and into the room. “I promise you I will not break in half if you don’t help me with everything. You’ve done a lot already.” Your hand wrapped around his arm, squeezing it gently to reassure him. His eyes focused on your fingers that rested on his skin. He took a deep shaky breath, then stepped away from the drawers to let you find your pajamas.

You found your favorite t-shirt to sleep in; a very large gray shirt with a dinosaur couple on it sharing a spaghetti noodle like in Lady and The Tramp. You threw the towel that was wrapped around you onto the floor, pulling the shirt over your head and searching for a pair of boxers you loved to wear.

Picking up the towel to put it back to hang up in the bathroom, you could feel him watching your every movement. As you walked back into the room his eyes were stuck on you and not leaving anytime soon. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest as he watched.

“So what did you make for dinner?” You asked, ignoring the fact that he would not take his eyes off of you.

He stood up straight and cleared his throat, eyes finally moving elsewhere. “I made potato soup. I thought the weather today made it a perfect soup for dinner kind of day.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Little do you know… I love potato soup.” His eyes lit up so bright when you said that, almost like a kid who just walked into a candy store. “But will yours be as good as my mom’s?”

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” Vessel motioned you to leave the room first, quickly following behind you. The aromas coming from the kitchen were enough to make your stomach grumble loudly. Perhaps not eating all day wasn’t the smartest idea, but that just meant you could savor this dinner as much as you wanted to.

You stepped into the kitchen and let out a gasp at the sight in front of you; Vessel had gone out of his way to make the little table in the corner look like you were about to dine in a fancy restaurant. He covered the wooden table with a white cloth, pulled out some china that looked like it’d never been used before. There was a bottle of wine on the table waiting to be poured into the glasses nearby. You glanced down at what you were wearing and felt a tad embarrassed, maybe that’s why he wanted to choose your pajamas…

“You like it?” He asks.

“I love it,” you respond, walking to one of the chairs to take a seat. Before you could even reach for the back of it, Vessel had pulled it out for you and waited for you to sit before pushing it back to the table. “Did you really do all of this for me?”

He smiled as he walked away to grab the pot of soup. “Maybe.” He filled a bowl for you and then for himself, settling down across from you with an expectant expression on his face. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

“I was waiting for you before I started, I never eat until whoever is in my company is ready to.” You say taking the spoon and picking up the thick liquid, taking a quick whiff of it before putting it in your mouth. His eyes were on you again as you let your tastebuds decide whether it was better than mom’s or not. “Hmm.”

Vessel raised a brow as you teased. “Did I beat your mum’s recipe or not?”

“Woah, slow down there pretty boy. Give me some time to decide.” You chuckled while taking another scoop of the soup to your mouth and tasting it again. It felt like you were a food critic and Vessel was the chef whose reputation depended on your word, you honestly found it adorable. “I’ll give it a 9.5/10.” His face lit up as he smiled wide, finally digging into the food himself.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you ate. The slight tension that was between the two of you after the bathtub incident had gone away, at least you felt like it wouldn’t exactly be the main topic of conversation at the dinner table. But, you remained silent anyways, not wanting the word bath to come out of his mouth.

—————————

Two days have passed since then, no word about it has been spoken between you guys. Vessel seemed to not want to start that conversation and just leave it to you to bring it up whenever you're ready, if you’d ever be ready.

You spent a lot of time cooped up in his house, sitting in silence with a book in hand and enjoying each other's company. It was really nice. A refreshing feeling in your life compared to every other failed attempt at something you would even consider a “relationship”.

He’d cook for you and you’d watch, putting random songs on that made him laugh each time he’d turn around and notice you dancing around. You’d stand behind him and place your hands on his hips, moving them around to try and get him to dance along as he laughed even harder at your attempt.

That was one of the things you were really starting to like about him; his laugh. The way his nose scrunched up and how tight his eyes would close as he let out the most genuine, hearty laugh you’ve ever heard. The times where he’d just make absolutely no noise and stand there bent over with his hands on his knees after you did something stupid were your favorite.

It was something you knew you couldn’t deny for longer, how you felt for Vessel. It was becoming so obvious to yourself now and more than likely he picked up on it too, certainly he had feelings for you as well and he was not afraid to show you that he did. But there was that part of you that was slightly afraid to admit it and show him the same.

Your eyes flickered from the words on the pages in front of you when Vessel’s phone lit up on the table beside him, a sigh coming from him as it disrupted the focus he had on the book he read. You went back to yours, realizing that you’ve completely lost where you even remembered reading last.

You rested your head back against the couch and put the book in your lap, looking over at Vessel as he smirked at his phone while typing away. You watched curiously as he paused, seemingly waiting for a response, then quickly typing again. He glanced at you while you watched and a smile now sat on his face. “How do you feel about clubbing?”

You perked up in interest. “Did it a bit when I was younger, why?”

“Just got a text from III asking if we’d want to join him and the others at a club tonight.” He sat back on his side of the couch, mimicking how you were currently sitting. “He kinda wants to meet you. As does II and IV…”

“They know about me?” You ask in surprise.

He rolled his eyes. “Well duh, Y/N. They’re my closest friends, of course they know about the beautiful American girl staying in my house.” He ended his sentence with a wink that made you blush.

“As long as I get to meet your friends and spend time with you, I think clubbing sounds like fun.” You smiled and then laughed as the thought hit you. “And maybe I’ll be able to get your ass to dance with me.”

“I’m always in the middle of making food when you try, would you rather I let it burn so I could dance with you?” Vessel is quick to sass you as he stands up and stretches. “I’ll call an Uber at 9, does that give you enough time to get ready?”

You glanced at your phone to check the time, it was only 7 o’clock. “That gives me plenty.” You hopped up from your spot on the couch, walking past Vessel and giving him a kiss on the cheek that flushed immediately after your touch.

As you headed back to the room to get ready, you couldn’t remember if you packed any clothes you’d consider clubbing attire. When you used to go all the time as a teen with all your friends, you’d pick the sluttiest thing in your closet, which would always help you get into the club despite the bouncer’s suspicion on your fake ID.

You rummaged through the closet, looking for your dresses you knew you’d packed. And nothing. Absolutely nothing. Instead of giving up hope on your past self for packing everything, you go to the dresser drawer where you had put away the skirts you took with you.

The gasp that escaped you when you realized you had packed the one skirt you’d been dying to wear came into view; it was a black leather mini skirt that zipped up on the side. You threw it onto the bed as you ran back to the closet, searching for the perfect top to go with it. You settled for a black lace bodysuit that was long sleeved and decided putting on your platform calf boots would complete the outfit well.

You never got the chance to dress up and look nice anymore, so you decided it was best to go all out. Even if you were going to be in a dark club where the only people who would be able to see your makeup would have to be standing nose to nose with you. At least you knew Vessel might like it.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror and started your makeup, taking a little bit of time to try and make sure you didn’t fuck up the eyeliner and your eyebrows too much. It was refreshing getting ready like this and feeling like your younger self again. It didn’t take long for your makeup to come out the way you wanted it to, a good sign that tonight was going to be a great one.

Finding your phone, you check the time; 8:45, not bad for being rusty in your makeup abilities. You grabbed a small purse you like to use occasionally and put your wallet and phone inside.

“Ves?” You called out as you spritzed your perfume on.

“Yeah?” His voice echoed back from his room.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” You left your room and entered his room, eyes growing wide once you saw what he was wearing; black skinny jeans paired with a black t-shirt and leather jacket, his black boots completing the attire. “Are we that emo or what?” Despite the chuckle that came from you, it was hard to take your eyes off of him and how fucking attractive he looked. He turned around and did a double take at you, his eyes wandering over every part of your outfit and face.

“Funny thing is, we’re all just going to be a group of emos.” He smirked as his eyes glanced at the amount of your thighs that were exposed by the skirt for the millionth time. “I’ll order an Uber now since I’m all good to go, and also let III know that we’re heading out.” Vessel stepped closer to you as he tapped away on his phone, after a minute he put it back in his pocket and noticed how close he’d accidentally got to you. His eyes lingered on yours again as he pushed your hair behind your ears, his fingers trailing along your jawline and lifting your chin a bit to examine your makeup. “You look good, really good.”

Your cheeks heated up as he kept his fingers on your chin, his thumb ran over your bottom lip with a little force. “Are you trying to smudge my lipstick?” You asked, lightly swatting his hand away.

A smirk curled at his lips. “I’m just testing it to see if it’ll stay after a makeout or two.” He grinned cheekily as you shoved at his chest making him stumble back a tad. His phone buzzed in his pocket, the notification coming from the Uber informing you that they had arrived.

You followed Vessel downstairs, letting him lead the way to the car waiting outside for the two of you. The Uber rolled down the window and double checked that she was picking up the right people, after Vessel confirmed it was right he opened the back door for you to get inside, letting you settle before shutting it behind you.

The Uber turned in her seat and looked at your outfit. “My dear you are beautiful, I love the top.” You smiled wide at her compliment and thanked her, returning the compliment on her brighter hair color.

Vessel joined you in the backseat and the driver pulled off, putting on some music for you to listen to. Vessel’s hand rested on your thigh as he stared out the window, you watched him as the passing lamp posts illuminated his face ever so often and he would tap his fingers along with the beat of the song playing on the radio. You placed your hand on top of his, pushing your fingers between his and encasing his hand with yours. The size difference was a little silly, especially since yours was on top, but it didn’t matter to you.

The drive took only thirty minutes from his house to the club that was in the middle of London. It was pretty packed already, a line was extended out the door as a bouncer slowly let people in.

“You can drop us off here,” Vessel says. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Thank you honey!” You say as you got out of the car and waved to the sweet driver. Vessel’s hand rested on your hip as he guided you to the sidewalks, his eyes scanning around for the familiar sight of his friends. The brisk air hitting your bare thighs sent shivers up your spine as you found yourself trying to look for them too, but realizing you had no idea what they looked like.

You noticed the group of three guys standing together, one waving over at the two of you and the others in a conversation with one another. Vessel’s pace quickened a bit as you grew closer to the group, watching as the tallest of them was giving Vessel a thumbs up the entire time.

“Gentlemen.” Vessel says sarcastically, earning a glare from the one who stood more eye level with you. “This is Y/N.” He motioned to you. “Y/N, this is III, II and IV, my bandmates.” The tallest out of the four of them and the one giving Ves a thumbs up was III, a bright smile on his face as he reached to shake your hand. The shortest (and probably the one who looked the most innocent) was II, he took your hand in his and kissed it after saying a hello. IV is who you stood eye level with but only because of the shoes you were wearing. Instead of taking your hand in his, he opted for pulling you in for a hug.

“I’m a hugger, sorry.” He says as he felt you tense up a bit, not expecting a hug.

You just smiled and hugged him back. “That’s alright, hugs are never a bad thing.” IV pulled away with a grin on his face and turned his attention to your outfit, he gave you the “okay” symbol with his hand and a nod of approval.

“Let’s get inside as soon as possible before you freeze.” II pointed out the fact that you were shivering, leaving Vessel to swiftly put his jacket over your shoulders and wrap his arm around you to pull you into him. “I was waiting for you to do that for her.”

“Shut up.” Vessel said as he turned to the line. It had shortened quite a bit since you’d arrived, now only a couple of people stood waiting to be let in. Thank goodness because it was really cold out and you needed a drink.

Luckily the bouncer just glanced at all of your IDs and let you inside, he clearly had enough of dealing with people for the night and at this point did not care who he let in. III had taken over leading the group through the club as he had a clear path splayed out in front of him of where he wanted to go. He stopped at a larger booth towards the middle of the club that was pushed further away from where the dance floor was in comparison to some other booths. He flung himself in and sat in the middle, letting II and IV fill in next to him. Vessel motioned for you to sit and he followed, squishing you a bit against his shoulders and IV’s.

A waiter had come over and III was shouting an order for shots over the loud music, giving him a thumbs up as he walked away. You sat back and listened as the boys caught up with each other, constantly yelling back and forth with Vessel occasionally leaning against you in order to hear II a little better.

Once the first round of shots arrived, you had become part of the conversation as it moved onto concerts, a topic you were very familiar with. You all cheered each other with your shots, then threw it back into your mouth. The liquor burned at your esophagus as you did your best not to make any faces at it. After not drinking as much as you used to, you weren’t exactly that great at hiding the fact that you hated tequila.

“Are you not one that likes tequila?” III shouts to you.

“I’m not one to do tequila shots.” You laugh at yourself, the others join you. Vessel draped his arm over your shoulders, his fingers traced delicate patterns on the fabric of your body suit. His face was close to yours, as you felt his lips grazing against your cheek.

The boys cheered on the waiter as he brought two more rounds of shots for the table. Vessel laughed at them as they downed them with ease, you on the other hand watched in jealousy. You brought two shot glasses to sit in front of you, taking one in your hand and throwing it back. The burning wasn’t as bad as the first time, but it still made you make a face.

“You’re keeping them down at least, that’s a good sign.” II shouted from across the table. “Please do not throw up. I don't want to see that.”

You shook your head. “Oh I don’t throw up anymore. Too many years of partying has turned my stomach to steel when it comes to most alcohols.”

“Most.” IV teased. You gave him a good shove as you raised the next shot to your lips, this third one going down a lot easier. “See you just needed to warm up a bit, miss party girl.”

“That’s exactly right.” You said, leaning back to rest against Vessel’s chest. He held you close with one hand that pressed gently against your stomach, you both sat and listened to the conversation the others had. It was interesting to see how they interacted in a regular setting compared to on stage, their personalities were so different but yet at the same time, you could see their stage presences shine at some points.

The first notes of the song that you always had to dance to when you were in a club began to play: S&M by Rihanna. You were a basic woman, you hear Rihanna come on you have to dance along to it. You sat back up quickly, turning to push at Vessel to get him out the booth.

“Move I need to go dance.” You say, shoving him closer to the edge.

“You like this song?” He asks with a smug look on his face, leaving the booth and putting a hand out for you to take.

“I love it, actually.” You say as you stand up. “And you’re going to dance with me.” Your grip tightened on his hand and you pulled him to the dance floor, where many people crowded around and danced to the beat of the song. Pushing your way through a bit until you found a spot you liked, letting go of Vessel’s hand so you could move around. The alcohol in your system really had you feeling yourself and the confidence boost it had given you was like no other, allowing you to move your hips around like no one was watching.

Your eyes flickered up to meet with Vessel’s, noticing they were fixated on you as you danced around. You smirked as you took one step forward and pressed your body against his, taking his hands to rest on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his face closer to yours, your nose brushing against his.

In one sudden gesture, Vessel had flipped you around and pressed his chest into your back. His one hand now resting on your lower stomach, and the other? He couldn’t help but place it around your neck. Your eyes closed at the light pressure he was applying on it, a new found butterfly fluttering around in your stomach from the sensation.

The song ended and transitioned into another one that wasn’t as fun to dance to. You pulled Vessel off the floor and back to the booth, noticing another round of shots on the table. You laughed at how pleased III looked with himself and choice of liquor.

“Are you ever going to order an actual drink?” You shout at him, noticing that II and IV had separate drinks they were sipping at.

“No! Those aren’t as fun.” He protested.

You shook your head. “Well you have fun with that, I’m going to find the restroom.” They all waved you off, except for Vessel who landed a smack on your ass as you walked away.

The restrooms weren’t too hard to find as the bright neon sign practically blinded you no matter where you stood in the club. You only went in there to check on your makeup, specifically because of Vessel choking you a bit as you danced. Your eyes teared up some and you couldn’t help but wonder if it messed up your eyeliner at all. Standing at the mirrors you checked your eyes closely, noticing nothing smudged. Perfect. Your hair got a little messed up though, but nothing that didn’t add to the intensity of your look already.

Your ears were ringing from being around the loud music and your throat felt a little scratchy, probably from the amount of yelling you’ve been doing trying to have a conversation with the group. Perhaps a club wasn’t the best choice for your first time meeting Vessel’s band… oh well you were having a great time and couldn’t really care about the practicality of it all.

Once you were satisfied with yourself, you left the bathroom and returned to the loud club. Squeezing past multiple people making out along the back wall and eyeing the small group of people doing lines, you accidentally bumped into someone while you weren’t paying attention.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You shout to the man, hoping you didn’t spill anything he was holding. He turned around and the expression on his face went from annoyed to elated.

“Is alrigh’ darlin’.” He slurred, patting your shoulder. You gave him a smile and went to head to the booth, when you realized he would not let you move from in front of him. “Where… do ya think you’re goin’? Come dance with me…” His hand gripped your shoulder tightly as he pulled you towards the dance floor.

“No, I’m not interested. I need to get back to my friends.” You pry at his hand that was seemingly glued to you, his grip was that strong. “Man let go of me!” That only spurred him to drag your body to be pressed uncomfortably tight against him, the smell of alcohol poisoning your airways as he breathed heavily on you.

A loud smack and a sharp pain rang from your ass as his hand came down hard against it, giving it a painful squeeze afterwards. You were quick to react; shoving him away as hard as you could muster and then landing a hard blow on his face with your fist. The people around you gasped as he fell to the floor covering his nose that was bleeding profusely. Your arm raised again as you stepped over him, about to give him another for good measure, until a hand wrapped around your fist. You turn around and see that Vessel was standing behind you, his eyes burning into you.

“Good god woman.” II said as he stood by Vessel’s side, analyzing the damage you did.

III and IV came over and pulled us away. “Security is coming, we gotta bounce.” Vessel kept you close as you followed the others out the back door of the club and into the freezing night. You walked a few blocks until it was decided security wouldn’t go that far looking for you.

“What the hell happened?” Vessel was the first to speak, his voice remaining calm as he could tell you were shaken up.

“Um-” You begin, but cut yourself off as you hissed at the pain that started to radiate from your fist. “I was coming back from the restroom when I accidentally bumped into that guy. I said sorry and tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. He had such a tight grip on my shoulder and he wanted me to dance with him. He then held me super tight against his body and smacked my ass hard, I’m probably going to have a bruise.” You glanced at your hand that had a splatter of the man’s blood on it. “So I just punched him.”

Vessel held your hand gently as he examined it, careful to not press too hard against your bruising knuckles. “You okay?” He whispered.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay once I take some pain meds.” You shrug.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern and his eyes burrowed deep into yours. “I didn’t mean like that.” It clicked in your mind, he was asking about how you were mentally. You glanced at the others that stood around, clearly worried about you as well. All you could do was shrug in response, not exactly feeling like breaking down crying in the middle of a London alley right now.

Vessel nodded and glanced at the boys over his shoulder, giving some sort of unspoken message to them. “Let’s get you back home then, yeah?”

You smiled at him. “That would be wonderful.”

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

(Saw someone do this and decided it seemed fun~

link to my ao3 here)

How many works do you have on AO3?

85.

What's your total AO3 word count?

915,568 words~

 What fandoms do you write for?

Currently it’s for Helios Rising Heroes, Hypnosis Mic, Obey Me, Paradox Live, and Twisted Wonderland!

I’ve previously written for A3!, Ace Attorney, Ace of Diamond, Borderlands, Bungou Stray Dogs, Free!, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Fire Force, Gorillaz, Hero Academia, Kuroko no Basuke, Magi, Naruto, Red Dead Redemption, Run with the Wind, RWBY, Shokugeki no Souma, Stardew Valley, Tokyo Ghoul

Top five fics by kudos?

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes [Twisted Wonderland] – 6,298

We’d Be a Hit Together [Haikyuu!!] – 6,211

Super Powered Love [My Hero Academia] – 5,436

A Devil’s Bride [Obey Me!] – 3,583

I Need Love [Hypnosis Mic] – 1,928

Do you respond to comments?

I try to! I always read and appreciate comments made on my posts, on AO3 and Tumblr, I always check to see if someone has tagged it with commentary <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

To be fair I hurt Malleus with the whole ‘you’re likely someone with a shorter lifespan’ idea constantly, but The Brightest Star was definitely a sadder one from my KNB days.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them because I truly hate unhappy endings. You can probably tell just from how I write that I try to put a positive spin on things, but I am trying to just let the angst happen or leave things off with ambiguity rather than specifying that a character only seems to feel a certain way when they’re actually feeling something else entirely.

Do you get hate on fics?

Occasionally. I remember getting this angry message about me being a feminist because I made the reader like dom Hanamiya from KNB and they were MAAAAD about it lmao I also remember being on fanfic dot net and getting argued with and I just sent the brady bunch theme song over and over until they stopped messaging me back

Do you write smut?

I do! Not the biggest fan of it honestly because I never feel like it’s half as sexy as the things I read other people write, but I do get in moods and with certain characters they just need to be manhandled a lil, you know?

Craziest crossover?

I have never written a crossover in my LIFE

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Awhile back I did but I was told about it and the story was quickly taken down, I think it was on Wattpad or something like that.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! I’ve gotten a handful of requests for my more popular ones to get translated, I don’t mind at all!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I mean I’m co-writing a book with the other admin on this blog, so does that count?

All time favorite ship?

Me and all my lil husbands.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I was writing this Criminal Minds fanfic that I had all plotted out, dramatic quotes at the beginning of episodes already picked, but I don’t think I’ll ever bother focusing on it.

What are your writing strengths?

I would say characterization is my strength! The characters are the best parts of fanfics after all and I always try to do research on the characters I write; if they’re ones I don’t know as well I’ll scan the wiki and read extra stories with them in it just to get a better handle on them! It’s why when there’s characters that haven’t been around long enough or don’t have a lot of content translated for them that I don’t like writing for them because I need at least something to go off of, I don’t want to have to make up their personality myself

What are your writing weaknesses?

Details. Which is a horrible thing to say as a writer, but I do feel like my writing lacks details here and there. Like with dialogue, I’ve been trying to write more in-between actions while the characters are talking since most people aren’t just standing still, especially if a character was doing something before another person entered the room. Descriptions of the world around the characters

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don’t like using google translate but I do have characters I love who speak other languages. Those heinous Hetalia days where you’d randomly put a word into the middle of an otherwise english sentence… they haunt me. But what I try to do with Citron from A3 is write some of his dialogue in parentheses to show he’s speaking in a language that the reader might not understand, and I feel like that works a little better for someone who doesn’t speak anything but english to do for the sake of not butchering another language.

First fandom you wrote in?

I truly wish I knew. I know I wrote for Naruto back in the day, and The Outsiders was one of the first full length fics I did. But that was back on Quizilla which has since turned to dust. I was also on Lunaescence for a while, whose creators have also turned to dust apparently. What a world

Favourite fic you've written?

It’s hard to pic just one when most of my fics are like, stand-alone short little things. But I think one I’m very fond of (which was written for the other admin so it explains why I put so much effort into it) was Snowy Mountain Getaway, which was a FE3H Dimitri/Reader College AU fic.

[spiral-man]

My self indulgent list of Entities and what I think my connection to them would be, let’s go:

The Eye-I believe I could be a good avatar of the Eye because I’m super nosy, and have always been told I ask to many questions and am to curious and also I’m a pretty open book myself.

The Spiral-If I had to Pick an Entity I think I’d be most likely to serve it would be the Spiral. I have a lot of mental health issues and I have a hard time figuring out what’s real and what’s fake within my perception, Also I’m Pansexual and Pangender and I have ADHD so….

The Flesh-Think I could definitely be at least marked by The Flesh due to a history of $elf Harm (getting better!) and my fondness for NBC Hannibal.

The Lonely-Depression and Anxiety make me prime real-estate for the lonely and I have a bad tendency of dwelling in my own misery at times and finding comfort in that which is what this entity feeds on.

The Slaughter-I’ve got some anger issues and have a bit of a violent tendency at times (working on it).

The Hunt-Used to (still do) love games like tag and hide and seek, I really loved the adrenaline rush those games give you, especially in the woods or something.

The Stranger-I have a bit of a hard time feeling human, I feel like I’m doing it wrong most of the time, like I’m just ever so slightly off compared to everyone else, like I’m just pretending.

The Web-Manipulative parents need I say more.

The Dark-Always loved the dark, find it very comforting.

The End-I’ve never been scared of death, I’ve had some past suicidal issues and now I’m currently studying to be a funeral director/embalmer.

The Desolation-My family has a history of Arson in the sense that one of my grandmas siblings almost burnt their house down because they liked to play with matches, my grandmas son did burn a playground down because he liked to play with matches and my grandmas granddaughter (me, hi) also has almost burnt her house down (multiple times) due to enjoying playing with matches.

The Corruption-Probably my worst fear, when I was younger I loved bugs but these day they make me so uncomfortable, thinking about them makes me itch, and similar idea with rot in general I just hate it, this fear would have a easy time feeding on me.

The Buried-Similar to the dark, I actually do not mind super confined spaces and in fact find them sort of comforting at times.

The Vast-I used to really love to climb trees but I could never get to high up because I was scared of how unsteady it felt, in general I like climbing shit to be up high but if it feels unstable I feel like I’m about to pass out.

the Exctinction-Lived through a pandemic and constantly being informed about different new events that could end the world.

If you read all this, hot damn I love you wow thank you so much haha, this was purely self indulgent as ive seen other people do it and I find the fears so interesting.