#blair waldorf hurt/comfort

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Can you do a Thanksgiving fic with Blair

sure thing! just a heads up this does have some angst but I hope you like it anyway <3

Easy As Pie (Blair Waldorf x gn reader)

Warnings: Blair's eating disorder is a big part of the plot here, hurt/comfort, this isn't set during any specific season tbh

It was always hard for Blair to endure holidays like Thanksgiving, but it wasn't because of the people. It was because of the enormous amount of food she always found in front of her.

She was constantly at war with herself, one part of her wanting to eat as much as her heart desired while the other refusing. It gave her quite the headache, which is why she was glad to have you there with her.

"Hey," you muttered softly, placing your hand on top of hers as you sat together at the table, noticing the wary gaze in her eyes immediately. "It's okay. Just eat as much as you can without feeling the urge to throw up, alright?"

That was certainly easier said than done, because any amount of food would cause her stomach to churn right now, even if deep down she wished she could binge on it all. "Okay," she quietly agreed, her hand holding onto yours as she picked up a fork.

The conversation at the table was light and easy, and you noticed how she didn't hold her tongue when it came to giving her opinion on certain topics despite the current anxiety she felt. Her boldness was always something you loved her for.

Thankfully you were able to get through the main meal without having any problems, but the same couldn't be said for dessert. You knew pie was always a weakness that Blair had, and you were worried at the sight of it she'd either binge or purge, neither of which were ideal options.

When the time came to serve up the pies and cobblers, she cut a big slice and filled up her plate before excusing herself to her room, which could mean nothing good. You followed after her out of concern, walking in on the sight of her crying while sitting on the floor against the wall, the plate remaining untouched in her hands.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, B? Talk to me," you gently coaxed while kneeling down beside her, knowing right now she needed someone to listen and comfort her more than anything.

"I- I want some," she admitted in a shaky voice, tears streaming rapidly down her pretty face.

"So why don't you have some, then?" You asked in a tone that was only inquisitive, not judgmental.

She only shook her head at that. "I want to. I really, really want to, but I can't," she sobbed while still gripping tightly onto the plate. "If I eat this, then I'll want another slice, and then another, and then-"

"Shh, shh, I know, I know," you murmured sympathetically while moving to wrap your arms around her in a comforting hold. "Here, why don't I eat some with you, okay? We can eat it together, and maybe that way you won't feel as guilty."

Sniffling, she look up at you, her chocolate eyes filled to the brim with tears. "Really? You'd do that for me?" She choked out, looking pitiful. You could practically feel your heart shatter inside your chest at her in such anguish.

"Of course I would. I'll eat with you, and then it won't be so scary." You carefully took the fork from her and used it to pick up a small bit of the pie, bringing it up to your mouth before eating it. "See? That wasn't so bad. Nothing about you is going to change if you have one slice of pie, honey, I promise."

Nodding, she took the fork from you, her hand trembling some. She still looked scared, that much was certain, but she trusted you, so against her better judgment (and the little voice screaming at her inside her head), she took a bite.

"There you go, that's it," you coaxed while she ate the little bit she'd gotten on the fork, your hand rubbing soothing circles on her back as she did. "You're okay, honey, I've got you."

The two of you went back and forth, passing the fork between you as you ate the pie piece by piece, until finally it was all gone. By that point, she'd stopped crying, though her eyes were visibly red and puffy while tears still clung to her lashes.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. You did such a good job," you praised while helping her off the floor, leading her over to the bed. "Why don't we lie down for a little now, okay?"

All she could do was nod, her energy having been successfully drained from her after such a stressful day. She curled up beside you, resting her head on your shoulder as you held her close.

"Thank you," she spoke up after a little while, her voice faint but sincere when she spoke. "It really means a lot to me for you to be here today."

"Of course, sweetheart. I'll always be here for you whenever you may need it," you promised before giving the top of her head a loving kiss.

She sighed and snuggled up even closer to you. The holidays were still stress inducing, but you being there made it all better.

End notes: I was actually debating on whether I should write a thanksgiving with fic blair or not so this was the perfect ask haha

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[esote-rika]

not a mask, but a reflection | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: idk hurt/comfort?? flangst? something like that, I'm sorry I truly don't know how to categorize this Summary: The BAU ladies insist on a makeover for Spencer, so you decide to indulge them by promising to take him shopping. It doesn't go as either of you expected, but it allows a chance for the two of you to form a deeper bond. Content: reader’s outfit is described, reader is based on Blair Waldorf in background, and personality– so you're rich!! and fashionable!! And snarky, but in a ride or die sunshine x sunshine protector kind of way, early season 2 glasses!Spencer crushing on reader, implied autistic Spencer, brief mention of his bullying, lots of dialogue!!! especially about fashion advice (PSA to wear whatever you want!!) Word count: 2.8k A/N: I'm back on my Blair Waldorf-reader agenda. I'm mainly writing these because of my own crackship, but I tried very hard not to describe any specific appearance stuff for the reader (aside from what ur wearing) so it’s as immersive and universal as possible! Styling in film and TV fascinates me and I wanted to explore Spencer’s character through clothes. ALSO! I incorporate a Blair Waldorf quote into the conversation that goes “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be.” pls know I didn't come up with it, the Gossip Girl writers did. It's from S4E13 specifically.

Saturdays are usually meant for curling up on his couch to read his favorite books, or marathon obscure foreign films. Alone, always alone, Spencer Reid has grown used to the feeling; accepted it, enjoyed it, even. He wouldn’t have survived all these years if he didn't appreciate his own company, after all. 

However, today is different. He’s expecting company, which is unusual enough, but he’s expecting you of all people. And it’s for such a silly thing too— a makeover. Something straight out of a cliche high school movie. It had started at work, during a case, a passing comment made by one of the people being interviewed. Something about looking like he’s playing dress up, spoken so softly he’d been willing to pretend to ignore it. 

But you heard it, had snapped at the man in annoyance about respect and propriety. At the jet, you had snapped at him about wearing clothes that fit better, and of course Morgan and JJ had to get involved, and Garcia squealed about a makeover over the phone. He hadn’t expected you to accept; when you did, he considered several ways to get out of it: pretend to have a date (implausible), pretend to get sick, just don’t show up. But then you said you’ll meet him at his apartment and his world seemed to come crashing down.

“I need to see what I'm working with before I dive headfirst into this,” was your reply when he protested. It makes sense, of course, but he's not happy about accepting you into his space. It's curated for him and his comfort, and he dreads the idea of casting your shrewd, critical gaze over his design choices. If he's less of a coward, he would admit that a small part of him desires your approval. Craves it, needs it, so much it makes his skin crawl.

So that’s why his Saturday morning is spent cleaning; straightening books, hiding the case files strewn about. He doesn’t want to give you any ammunition to tease him with. Having to undergo a makeover is embarrassing enough.

It reeks of bleach when he opens the door for you. The wrinkle of your nose has no business being so cute when it's obviously done to express disgust.

“What is that smell?”

“Hello to you too,” he can't keep the sarcasm from his tone as he steps aside. 

You saunter in heels even though this is meant to be a casual get together. They click against his hardwood floors until you reach his rug, the thick fabric dulling out the noise. “Did you bleach your entire place?” 

His expression is sheepish as he closes the door, “I figured I'd clean.”

“You sure you're not hiding a murdered body in here?” you walk straight into the middle of his apartment and look around. He winces as he waits for your verdict.

“I’m not, I just - you’re so -”

“I’m so?”

“Particular.” I don’t want to disappoint you, but he clamps his mouth shut before the words escape. Having you come in for a makeover already isn’t doing anything for his confidence. In fact, it just confirms his suspicions. Something is wrong with him, despite all the attempts at propriety and flattery otherwise. The BAU sees it, you see it, and you’re here to fix it. He swallows the lump in his throat, and with it, his pride and the tiny hint of resentment. 

You are trying to help, he reminds himself. 

Maybe it’s his hopeless optimism, maybe it’s desperation to seem normal for once, but it’s enough to surrender to your knowledgeable hands. 

He lets his eyes take you in, allows himself a moment to linger on the details of your ensemble. The picture of coordination, as usual; shoes and bag the same shade of rich brown, the barrettes in your hair matching the pale blue trimming along the edges of the sundress you’re wearing. This is you dressed down, he knows, but somehow you manage to outdress him. 

“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that,” your eyes roll, before landing to one of the doors in his apartment, “Where’s your bedroom?”

He sputters, “My - uh, why?”

“I’m assuming that’s where you keep your clothes?” You look at him like he’s dumb, and he turns bright pink. “I told you, I can’t take you shopping before I see what you already own.”

He can’t believe he fully didn’t realize it meant letting you into his bedroom. But then again, his brain has the tendency to turn to mush when he’s speaking with you. “Right,” he nods, scrambling to his bedroom. All of his anxieties about his living room and the overwhelming amount of books seem distant now; you hadn’t even commented on them. Instead, this new one arises, bubbles in his stomach. Showing you his bedroom is so much more intimate. The space he sleeps in, where he’s most vulnerable.

A space no other woman has ever even seen. 

He feels your presence behind him, smells the distinct loveliness of the perfume you like to call your signature scent. Of course you don’t ask for permission. He’s found quickly that you’re used to taking and having what you want, used to the world yielding to you instead of the other way around. 

Your heels make sharp taps against the floor. Combined with your perfume, it’s already obvious that you’re making your mark in his room, his haven. He imagines the fragrance will linger when you leave, and it makes his ears burn with a longing that knocks the wind from his chest. The door remains open, and he’s thankful that he isn’t completely caged in his bedroom with you. 

“Here’s my, uh, where I keep my clothes.” he hastily opens his closet, relief flooding his body as he sees it’s not that messy. Everything is ironed and pressed, although some of his sweaters are haphazardly piled together. He hopes he won’t have to show you the mess that is his sock drawer. 

You step up beside him, bare arm brushing against his. Brows furrowed in concentration as you rifle through his clothes. He steps back to give you more room to work with, although it’s more for his sake than yours. Your proximity is making him a little dizzy. He finds himself slumping on his bed, watching your movements. You’re approaching the task at hand with the same meticulous acuity as you would in a crime scene. Focused. Detail oriented, even when doing something so insignificant.

He’s not sure what to expect. He’s bought his clothes based on what he sees other men wear, relying on his observation skills, and the clothing guidelines given by HR to deduce what is considered appropriate. His father wore dress shirts a lot, back when his family was still intact. Hotch and Morgan wear suits, but those have always felt too formal to use on a daily basis. He opts for cardigans and sweater vests to keep him warm instead, because they’re softer, less restrictive. They remind him of Diana, the things she would wear back when she could still teach. He hopes you don’t make him get rid of them.

“You wear a lot of light browns,” your voice lifts him out of his anxious stupor, “You have to give that up.” 

He frowns in confusion, “What’s wrong with wearing light brown?”

“You’re too pale, they make you look even more sickly. But if you must wear brown, lean into this shade instead,” you hold up a dark brown blazer that he actually really likes. He smiles, happy that it got your seal of approval. You turn to him, eyes narrowed, “And your dress shirts are too big, look at where the shoulder seam falls.” 

He blinks in surprise as your hand comes to touch an inch past the edge of his shoulder, pinching the fabric, “It should be up here. You’re too slim for an oversized look, it just swamps your frame. If you’re going to be wearing them, they have to fit you better.” 

He nods, feeling a little out of his depth, “How do you know all of this?”

“Years of consuming Cosmopolitan and Vogue.” You turn back to the closet, he frowns slightly. The words mean nothing to him, and he flinches when he hears you sigh.

“Fashion magazines?” you prompt, glancing back over your shoulder.

“Ah,” He nods, lips pursed, “I can't say those are on my reading lists.”

“Obviously not, otherwise you'd know not to wear,” You gesture at his entire ensemble, nose wrinkling once again, “This.”

It doesn’t really occur to him what the problem is as he looks down at his checked button down. “It’s a nice shirt.” he says, although he can see your point now; it’s too big. 

“Reid, you look like you’re about to start proselytizing about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ.” you say, stepping away from his wardrobe and stopping in front of him. 

Your teasing makes his cheeks burn. Or maybe it’s your sudden closeness, your hands at his buttons, “Um, what–” he’s stiff, memories rushing of being held down, clothes forcibly ripped—

“Relax,” you step back after undoing the top button. The annoyed scoff surprisingly gives him some comfort, reminds him it’s you, he’s here with you, “There, that’s better. Don’t button it up all the way.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, it makes you look like you’re cosplaying a minister.” He shifts under your gaze, feeling exposed, even though he’s fully dressed. But that’s exactly what you’re judging, after all, his clothes. There’s nowhere to hide. “Why are you so tense, Reid? It’s not going to make you look like a fool, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Why? Where does he even begin? The fact that he’s never had a woman in his room before, and it’s making him feel like he’s about to implode? His memories of being stripped naked for all the school to see, humiliated, fueling the irrational fear of letting go of his clothes, the things he’s comfortable wearing. And for what? In order to be fashionable? To seem normal, to be fixed? 

He settles for a half truth, the words mumbled and embarrassed, “I like my clothes.”

To his surprise, your eyes soften, “Okay. And?”

“I like how I dress.”

“You don’t want to change your style?”

He looks down and shakes his head, feeling a little silly. How can he explain it to someone like you, who probably would have been one of his tormentors when he was back in school? It’s sick, this desire to be close to you, to be accepted by you as though being in your orbit would lessen his eccentricity. He thought he’d left it behind in high school, had grown out of it, but it’s there, recognizable and refusing to let him rest. 

“You know you didn’t have to say yes to this,” the bed dips as you sit beside him, “It was a silly thing the girls and I thought would be fun, but if it’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop and we could just, I dunno, go for ice cream instead.”

“No, I - I do, I just… don’t want to change completely.” It's almost pathetic how something as simple as clothes is making him spiral, “I like how I dress, even if you guys make fun of it. It’s comfortable. I get really cold hands, and the sweaters help, and - and the satchel is convenient even if you say it clashes with my outfits or whatever.”

Your hand rests on his forearm, and his rambling halts immediately.

“Then I won’t stop you from wearing grandpa-chic,” the lightness in your voice makes him smile, “This is why I wanted to see what you had. I wasn’t about to start from scratch, and there’s obviously a reason you gravitated towards these pieces. I wouldn’t force you into something you hate, that sort of defeats my fashion philosophy.”

“Your fashion philosophy?” He's smiling now as he listens to you.

“I believe that the whole point of fashion and clothing is to help reflect what you are on the inside, not mask it.” You reply, hand finding his own. He allows it, finding something warm and soothing in the touch of your hand, silencing the usual urge to pull away in fear of germs. “And, anyway, I think your clothes make you look really intellectual, so if you like them, you have the pieces in your closet already, it’s just a matter of styling them better.” 

You squeeze his hand, but he could have sworn you did it to his actual heart. 

He watches as you return to his closet again, rummaging through the clothes. You hold up a white button down and a navy blue cardigan, head tilted to the side, teeth worrying the plushness of your lower lip, “Like this; this is a nice combination, and it’ll work better with your complexion. Try it on.” they’re tossed over to him, landing on his lap.

You’re turning away from him, still going through his clothes—allowing him privacy. He appreciates that. He scrambles out of his current clothes, his skin prickling as he thinks about the fact that he’s in a room with a woman alone, getting undressed. No. You’re a friend and a coworker doing him a favor, he should get his head out of the gutter. Hurriedly, he puts the suggested ensemble on.

“Uh, it’s — you can turn around.”

He holds his breath as your eyes rove over his figure, still with the same sharpness he’s used to, but blunted by the small smile playing across your lips. “Yeah, that’s better. Navy’s a great color for you.” you have a stack of his shirts in your hand, all of them patterned and printed, “I’m sorry, but these… have to go. Or at least don’t wear them to work. The prints are ugly, no offense.”

He chuckles, taking the shirts from you, “Not wearing ugly prints to work anymore, got it.”

“Yeah, keep the funky patterns on your ties.” you reach up, brushing lint and dust off the cardigan, “Your shirts should remain plain, solid colors; you have a lot of nice sweater vests and cardigans, it’ll be easier to match them together if your shirts are in more basic colors.” 

Committing your words to memory is easy enough. Rules. He likes rules, but they need to make sense to him, otherwise their arbitrariness will simply frustrate him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

So far, you’re being so receptive to his questions, it might actually make him cry. It’s a new feeling, being the one who’s floundering. Not being the smartest, most knowledgeable person. How exciting, he decides, getting to learn in an area he’s never been able to fully understand on his own. He clarifies, “Why can’t I match the cardigans and sweaters to, uh, colorful shirts?” 

It’s a while before you answer, moving around to wind a tie across his neck. Your words are thoughtful when you speak, “It’s a visual balance. Too many colors and patterns can look heavy and distracting— which is okay, you know, but time and place is always something to consider when you’re dressing up. And you’re going to work, so it’s better to err on the side of caution and wear things that are more… sleek.” Your hands are deft as they tighten the tie, tucking it into the cardigan. “So now that I know what sorts of clothes you like to wear, it’s a matter of finding the right color combinations and cuts that fit your body. Here, see for yourself.”

You push him forward until he’s in front of his mirror, and indeed he does look… better. Still himself, still familiar, but the contrast of the navy cardigan against his pale skin somehow brings out more warmth from his cheeks and makes his hair seem less dull. Visual balance, you said. “Like art,” he murmurs.

“Exactly,” your smile is proud, peeking from behind his shoulder, “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be… and this is showing the world that you’re one attractive nerd.”

He laughs at that. There’s a lightness in his chest as he realizes he doesn’t have to change everything. “I think I get it.” he replies, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Of course you do, you’re a genius.” A slap on the back, one filled with warm intimacy, “Now, I did promise the team a makeover, so now that I know what sort of stuff you need, we can finally go shopping… and we need to do something with your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” he asks, but he’s smiling and so are you.

THERE WILL BE A PART TWO! Also, tagging everyone who expressed interest in Waldorf!Reader @mggslover @libraprincessfairy @lillaberry @lokisswiftie

[simpingforthemm]

being blair waldorf's girlfriend hc's

bullets: 43

warnings: none

summary: dating blair waldorf would include / blair waldorf dating hc's

a/n: I love blair sm and I enjoyed writing this for her! I got inspired since I'm currently watching gossip girl while sick and it's a nice series though it has a lot of drama lol. anyways enjoy!

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blair loves to boss you around but not in the "oh do this and that for me" way but more in a "no don't touch that, y/n! y/n I told you to stay by my side!" way

blair is super protective of you and she's kind of like a helicopter mom whenever the two of you are together

she holds your hand the entire time when you're out at a party, acting like you're in danger and keeps you away from alcohol at all costs

if someone messes with you, she won't hesitate to dig up some dirt about them and expose them in front of everyone

she wouldn't do it anonymously on gossip girl though, she would make sure the person harassing you would know it was her, your girlfriend, and that they should stay away from you

or else

you two have sleepovers a lot, you love doing each other's makeup, watching gilmore girls together and cuddle a lot <3

she definitely brags about you in front of her clique and serena

"while you losers are out going to this stupid party, I'm going to the theater to watch a play, with my girlfriend"

she loves to spoil you (her love language is probably gift giving or words of affirmation + physical touch)

she knows exactly what you like so it's very easy for her to buy gifts for you

probably has a list in her room somewhere of things that you hate / love / dislike / like

she knows what beauty products you like, what smell is your favorite, your favorite colour, favorite author, favorite kind of clothes, gold or silver jewelry

when the two of you are in an especially good place she'll probably come to your apartment (or your shared apartment who knows) and just yell "Honey, I went shopping!" and then just have like 10 shopping bags in the living room, full of stuff just for you

she gets pretty easily annoyed with you when she's not getting what she wants or when she's frustrated with her friends (yes, sometimes she lets it out on you)

she's always very quick to apologize, knowing that you're her sweetheart and that you only want the best for her 🩷

you are one of the only people that can help her get through her mood swings and calm her down when she feels like the whole world is crashing down on her again

when her parents got a divorce, you were right by her side, holding her hand throughout the whole thing and being more her best friend than serena ever could

christmas or any other holiday is always so amazing because she puts in a lot of effort to make them special

will do romantic festive dates with you like go to the christmas market, take a walk through the winter wonderland in central park, go to festive little parties together

you probably have a lot of traditions

like on the first day of school you both will get donuts for breakfast or when there's a ball coming up, the both of you will go shopping together

I could picture that you're not that into shopping (which blair thinks is a total embarrassment) so she will pick out a few dresses for you (since she knows what looks good on you)

she will let you choose the dress you want but will whine if you don't choose the dress she thinks is best

"but y/n!! the blue one looks so much better on you! choose that one!"

blair is very bossy and probably wears the pants in your relationship

she likes to be in control

but you make her step out of her comfort zone sometimes and "make her do crazy things", like she would call it

one time blair whined about her high heels hurting her feet and that she couldn't dance in those goddamn shoes

so the next day you took her to buy sneakers, so that she could dance properly and not be hindered by her heels (pic in the collage with the two girls in the red and blue dresses, they're wearing sneakers hehe)

"No, y/n, no! I won't be wearing this monstrosity of a shoe to a party! What if someone will see, huh?

"Come on, babe! No one will see, I promise! And if so, there's no shame in wanting to not hurt your feet and dance!"

She groans but puts on the shoes regardless

and the both of you have the best night ever, dancing until dawn

also, dorota loves you and thinks you're such a sweetheart

whenever you come over to blair's apartment, she gets really excited, asking you how you've been and telling you how "Miss Blair missed you very much"

you're also probably good friends with Serena and Chuck, since these are the people she's closest with

also you and Blair love to gossip, especially about other people

you always have some kind of drama to discuss or some person to embarrass and take down

you're sort of "partners in crime" even though she hates getting you involved in that stuff

you're probably the most iconic couple at your school and there's a lot of attention on you two because on the upper east side, there aren't a lot of lesbian couples

but you're so in love and there's nobody that could not be jealous of your jealous of your relationship

because you're literally perfect together

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[after-hours-art]

Cocoa with a little bit of love

Pairing: Blair Waldorf x f!reader

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentioning of ED (bulimia)

Blair's favourite season passed for sure when one November morning snow started falling down from the sky. Relatively bright day goes by with the aura of snowflakes lazily dancing in the air, getting stuck to hair, eyelashes, scarves, and coats of students of Constance and St Jude's as they are hurrying into the building away from minus temperatures. You, however, enjoy snow. Not the coldness itself, but for you, there's no better thing to do in winter than curl up in a blanket by the window with a good book in one hand and hot cocoa in another. As a matter of fact, you're sure maid at your apartment already settled such cosy space for you in the living room. Your daydreaming stops when suddenly sometimes hits your shoulder, almost knocking you off the stairs.

- Don't just stare into nowhere, Y/N. Someone might hurt you.

You smile under your nose, hearing the commanding voice of Blair's. Her dirty pink coat looks lovely with the navy scarf wrapped around her neck as she visibly shivers. You can't stop corners of your lips from lifting a little when few snowflakes tangle in her hair. God, she's so beautiful it hurts. You look at her, up and down. As much as you're sure those tights of hers are with warmers inside, you can't help but worry.

- You cold? - you ask. Blair looks at you as if you just offended her.

- No. I'm fine. M-move it. - she scoffs, rushing past you to get into the building. You shake your head and sigh, slowly following her inside.

//

You enter the girl's bathroom in a hurry. Last class's PE completely messed up your hair and makeup. Or maybe that's simply a karma that you got for being overcompetitive while playing volleyball? You sigh, brushing your hair, praying that you won't look like a mess for the rest of the day. After some fighting with wet from sweat hair, you manage to look decent. As you adjust your makeup, the bell rings. You groan and keep focusing on your ruined lipstick. You pop your lips a couple of times to spread lip gloss evenly when suddenly you hear disturbing noises from the last toilet cabin. I swallow nervously, not sure what to do. You step a little closer, your heartbeat increasing in anxiety. Not every day you heard someone throw up at school. You swallow nervously. Being a rather fearful person, you are reacting in crucial moments like accidents or emotional troubles aren't your strong front. You pack up your cosmetics to the small makeup bag and shove it in your school bag. Throwing up noises turn into sobs when you pick up courage to step closer to the cabin. You knock on the door.

- H-hey... you okay? - you ask hesitantly, not trying to imply anything. It could've just been someone feeling sick. Viruses are around it time of the year, aren't they?

- I'm fine. Go away.

Your eyes open wider when you recognise the voice from the other side of the cabin, despite how breathy and shaking it is at the moment. You take a deep breath and sit on the bathroom floor, your back against one of the toilet cabins.

- You're not okay... We can talk if you want to. - you say quietly, hoping that you'll be encouraging enough for her to open up. You hear the sound of water being flashed, followed by the girl sitting down on the other side of the door, her shoes hitting the stone floor. The bathroom falls silent for a longer while, interrupted only by quiet sobs of the girl.

- I told you that I'm fine. Go snoop in someone else's business. - her voice turns more harsh and demanding. The lock on the door clicks, and she steps out of the cabin. Her Hermes bag drops on the floor when she sees you sitting on the bathroom floor. Blair Waldorf in all her downfall - tears caused by forced vomiting ruined her foundation, her eyes are red as well as her cheeks.

- Y-Y/N... - she stutters. You look up at her, standing up from the floor. You've never seen her this broken. She looks like one of those porcelain dolls that will shatter the second you touch her.

- Blair... - you start gently, your voice unsure even more than hers. - Are you... okay?

You know she didn't have the best Thanksgiving. You were there to witness it yourself. Her father didn't come, and it hurted her enough that he and her mother divorced and he went to live with his male lover in France, but not coming to a holiday that she considered theirs really stung her delicate heart. As much as Blair refuses to admit it, she is one of the more vulnerable people in her friend circle.

- I'm fine. - she says and walks over to the mirror, taking a small toothbrush out of her makeup bag and brushing her teeth. As if she literally planned to return her lunch.

- Blair... - you say gently, but she ignores you. Pretending that you're not here is easier. Noone knew about her... issues. Well, Serena did. But then she decided to vanish to boarding school. Her mother knew too, yet she had too much on her plate with Waldorf Designs to address the issue in more ways than just providing therapy for her daughter. And it helped. For a while. Yet, every time she lost sense of control over the situation, her bulimic tendencies relapses. And right now... Blair Waldorf is out of control for past two weeks.

- I'm fine, Y/N. - she says, her voice slowly turning back to normal through it's still little horase. You walk up to her and put hand on her shoulder, carefully tucking lose hair behind her ear.

- Blair... wanna go to my place? - you ask hesitantly. Classes will be finished in two hours and... missing two classes isn't a crime. Still, she looks at you as if you suggested murder. That's no surprise, there's no more perfect student than Blair Waldorf at Constance. However, now she nods.

- Okay. This one time.

//

Ride to your apartment passes in silence. Neither you nor Blair say anything. She looks like a beaten up puppy, looking outside the window at the streets. Your fingers grip tighly on the edge of your skirt. You're so not good in all the emotional stuff yet your best friend needs you. The girl you... like needs you. You swallow your discomfort and finally manage to speak.

- You... do you want to talk about it? - you ask hesitantly, your eyes never leaving her. You feel your heart break for her, seeing her so different than usually. It is almost unnatural to see Blair struggle with something. She always seems so perfect and put together. Who would've guessed that it's only a facade that she puts up to cope with emotions?

- I don't... - she says. - And don't ask again. Today never happened.

You stare blankly at her, trying to understand why she's so harsh with you when you're trying to help. You reach your hand to her, resting it on her thigh. Soon her hand lands on yours, letting you gently squeeze her fingers in reassuring grip. You feel how cold her hands are, almost as cold as silver ring on her finger. She doesn't look at you, stubbornly keeping her gaze on the streets that your car passes. Fate wanted it, your driver took earlier turn making the ride longer. You keep your eyes on her, studying her features. Her deep brown eyes, her, now little fuzzy from humidity caused by snow, brown hair. Pink headband, innocently matching her winter coat. You fight the urge to kiss her, to pull her close and reassure her that she's perfect even when she trips. But you don't do anything, too afraid that you'll scare her off losing both - friend and secret crush.

//

Your maid - Celia - looks surprised seeing you home so soon yet she doesn't say anything. She already got on your mom's bad side for setting the table with wrong set for important event and since that she tried to keep away from troubles. Your family paid too much to lose this job. You hand her your coats.

- Come. I promise you'll like it. - you say, pulling unwilling girl behind you. You two make your way into the living room, greeted by huge dog. You smile when Blair let go of your hand and begin to pet the Weimaraner. You can't help but chuckle when your dog starts licking her face. He always liked her.

- Come on! - you smile, pulling now laughing Waldorf, to your cosy nook by the window. You invite her to sit on the couch by the window on fluffy white blanket.

- Wait here. - you say, and walk away. In the kitchen you start preparing your signature cocoa, a good quality cocoa powder with bit of cinnamon, orange aroma and marshmallows. With two mugs in hands you make your way back to the living room.

- What's that? - she asks hesitantly when you carefully hand her pink mug.

- Cocoa with a little bit of love. - you say, smiling. White and pink heart-shaped marshmallows float on the chocolate surface.

- Y/N... - she starts but seeing your stern glare, she shuts up.

- Blair. Please. I want to do something nice for you. And... and I don't know... I just guessed that you'd want some warmth. With... everything happening around last month. I didn't get to see you often and I meant to ask... how are you doing.

- Are you pretending because you saw me puke today? - she scoffs, not believing your intentions.

- What? No. No.

- Don't fool me, Y/N. You're not a minion. Nor we're super close in terms of friendship.

Your enthusiasm decreases a little. Accusations that you have underlying motive to get her to open up hurt.

- I'm not fooling you, Blair. - you start to defend yourself, sipping on your cocoa. - I'm honestly worried. Even before... bathroom thing. You became so much quieter this year. And since Serena left for boarding school. You're not that close with Nate anymore. Please. I want to help you. - you put hand over hers, praying that she won't pull away. And she doesn't. She looks like a kicked puppy.

- I'm not copying well. My mom didn't invite my dad for Thanksgiving. I... blew out of proportion and ate the whole pie. Like really... whole thing. I just... - she pauses and hesitantly takes sip of her beverage. - I lost control over everything. And what hurted the most was that I couldn't tell anyon-

- You could've tell me. - you interrupt her, squeezing her hand a little, your voice soaked with mix of honesty and desperation. Desperation to be the person she'd go for if she's sad, troubled, happy. To be her person.

She looks at you confused.

- I barely knew you then. I mean... less than over past three months, that's for sure.

- I... - you swallow realising that you're overstepping a boundary. You take a sip of you cocoa, marshmallows melting in your mouth.

- I wanted to be there for you I just didn't know how. - you admit after few moments of silence. Blair's gaze softens but only so little.

- It's fine. You wanted good. It's much better than anyone else did for me for the last months. - she says, taking a sip of cocoa. - With Serena gone and Nate acting... not like Nate, I actually felt lonely lately. So lonely, I considered venting to Chuck. - she chuckles at her own misery. You chuckle too, trying to fight off her bad mood with some humour. After all... grotesque exists for a reason. You smile at each other for a moment. You sigh, fighting the urge to cup her cheeks. She's so beautiful, perfect, and now is on your blanket at your home, sipping on your cocoa. Is it too much to ask to see her like that every day?

- I'll listen to you. - you say softly. - I promise. Whenever you need me, I'll be there. We can talk or not talk. I can .ake you cocoa or we can bake together. I don't want you to feel hopeless anymore. And I don't want you to force vomiting. It's not good for you. - you add. - You don't need to restrict food to look perfect, be approved by your mom and such. You're already a masterpiece and... if your mom can't see it, if Nate can't see it, then they both mist be blind. - you state confidently, putting your mug away. Blair's eyes shine with something. Something like hope mixed with tears. She rarely allowed herself to feel strong emotions, always trying to be in check. Yet now she lowered her guard down.

- Thanks, Y/N... - she says, finishing her cocoa, not admitting that it's the first sweet thing she had since that infamous Thanksgiving's pie. Nor she admits that she can taste love in it.

- You're welcome. Now talk... I want to hear it all. - you smile, resting against pillows. Blair smiles and sits next to you, her head resting on your shoulder. She starts hesitantly, not used to opening up, yet it takes only a few moments to let her story unfold. You listen to her, holding her hand the whole time, making mental notes on each thing.

The snow behind the window dances in the air, and the temperature inside the apartment keeps you both warm and cosy. Sun starts to set, even though it's merely 4pm, but that's the beauty of winter. You listen to Blair's venting for two hours now. Who would have thought that it would take two hours, 4 mugs of cocoa with marshmallows and a blanket in cosy nook to help someone settle with their emotions, even when you're not greatest supporter or not most sympathetic person?

[starriisarchives]

"i am not a stop along the way, i am a destination!" ღ blair waldorf.

౨ৎ welcome to blair's channel ! ᝰ please read the warnings before interacting. minors dni with [n]sfw content! grab your snacks and enjoy :D

(✰) fluff — (❀) angst — (❤︎) smut — (⟡) hurt/comfort

·˚ ༘ * SHORTS ✗ DRABBLES

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * LIVES ✗ HEADCANONS

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * VIDEOS ✗ ONESHOTS

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * STREAMS ✗ SERIES

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * PLAYLISTS ✗ TWOSHOTS

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

please do not plagiarize or repost any of my fics.

[annihilvtion]

Josefina Silva Intro // Musings. Visage.

basics.

name: josefina silva

age: twenty-five

dob: august 14th 1997

zodiac: leo

pre-apocalyptic age: three

occupation: bounty hunter

location: jackson county

siblings: an older sister and brother (alive)

parents: mother (alive), father (deceased)

pets: none

tattoos: a heart on her left pinky finger

distinguishable features: a scar across her collarbone

personality:

eccentric, impatient.

she's a pot stirrer who gets irritated easily

likes to bend the rules / thinks they don't apply to her

extremely loyal to the few she loves

she prioritizes her chosen family and would do anything for them

massive cat lover, not much of a dog person

can't commit to save her life

ambitions & headcanons:

thinks being in a relationship = being on a leash

has always wanted to travel the world

hugs make her uncomfortable

belongs to the nighttime, and will sneak out past curfew to enjoy the sky and the silent hum of the night

enjoys breaking things

doesn't read often but once she finds a good book, she won't put it down until it's finished

wants to own a motorcycle or a 'hippie van'

likes to lie for fun

finds comfort in solitude

has communication issues / fists over words

won't let it be known that her feelings are hurt

will never ever cry in front of anyone

(TW: death, illness) couldn't save her dad and regrets it terribly, wishes he'd have died peacefully with his family.

her dad was the one who understood her, they were almost exactly the same in personality and looks

Is and always has been the 'black sheep' going against the norms

she can get along with her family, but that doesn't mean she will

she has a complicated relationship with her siblings and does what she can to avoid telling them what's going on in her life

she feels like her surviving family has never accepted her for how she processed their dads death & her lifestyle thereafter

character inspo: blair waldorf (gossip girl), katherine pierce (tvd), rebecca michelsen (tvd, to), octavia blake (the 100), samantha jones (sex and the city), maddy perez (euphoria)

connections:

older brother & sister ( could be twins )

friends to enemies

platonic twin flames

complicated hookup

exes

partner in crime

work besties

tba

[emsquig]

if you fail to plan, you plan to fail strategy sets the scene for the tale i'm the wind in our free-flowing sails and the liquor in our cocktails.

{pinterest/spotify/bio}

BASIC STATS

full name: emma claire squiggle

nicknames: squiggle, em

pronouns and gender identity: she/her, trans woman

sexuality: bisexual

birthday: 15 january, 1956 (capricorn sun, aquarius moon, sagittarius rising)

age: 30 years old

career: investigative journalist at the daily prophet

languages: english, spanish (mother's first language)

virtues: driven, intelligent, confident

vices: narcissistic, exacting, guarded

character inspos: paris geller (gilmore girls), blair waldorf (gossip girl), villanelle (killing eve)

MAGIC

house: ravenclaw

wand: elm wood with a core of phoenix feather, 10.5 inches and rigid. a truly dignified wand that would not easily be swayed from it's beliefs, just like it's owner.

boggart: it's her in the future, sporting sweatpants and deep circles under her eyes, with three screaming children hanging off of her. her friends had laughed the first time she'd seen it (your worst fear is being a mum??) but she knew that it meant a life of wasted potential, of falling into a role she wasn't born to play.

amortentia: ink from her quill, heady and familiar. the almost sickeningly sweet smell of gardenias as they grew outside her family home in the summer. the smooth, dark bite of good whiskey.

patronus: a hippogriff. she's only managed to cast the spell a handful of times, but she hasn't spent a lot of time trying. emma tended towards practical magic. anything further seemed like a waste of time to learn- emma knew her value was in her mind, not in her wand.

QUICK HCS:

emma throws a great party- the perfect balance of a classy affair and a rager.

her parents had her in piano lessons from the age of three- she doesn't have the passion to be truly great but she did achieve technical perfection

she is the master of the passive aggressive insult

her love language is telling you "oh, i just finished a book i think you'll love, let me give you my copy" and then writing a little inscription on the first page

she can be very tactful when she wants- she has a persuasive air around her perfect for getting a story out of an unwilling source- but she finds it takes too much energy and outside of a professional context she's much more likely to be uncomfortably blunt.

WANTED CONNECTIONS- more to be added!

"how'd we end up on the floor, anyway?" you say: a ride or die best friend, a come over uninvited with wine best friend, a trading eyerolls across the room best friend.

trick me once, trick me twice: emma can be ruthless when getting a scoop- in the pursuit of the story, she hurt this muse and they hold a grudge.

he wanted it comfortable, i wanted that pain: your classic ex connect! open to all genders- maybe there's hard feelings and maybe there aren't, but this muse thought emma was far too in love with her work to ever really love someone else. would love some variants too- maybe someone she dumped, maybe ex-FWBs, ect.

my knuckles were bruised like violets: friend breakups are worse than romantic breakups- emma's never had a hard time dumping her partners, but she still sometimes wants to call this person and tell them about her day.

i don't start shit-: emma can't say she's spent a lot of time thinking about her views on blood purity, but she has spent a good bit of time writing about how other people view it. this person affiliated with the order thinks that with her influence, emma could be a good recruit for the order- even though emma couldn't be less interested.

-but i can tell you how it ends: the bad influence counterpart to the above good influence connect! she is a pureblood, from a nouveau riche family, in a 5 year relationship with augustus rookwood- this person thinks it might be a good time for emma to give her talents to the death eaters.

[gg-soliloquy]

14/04/24 00.25 PM | Gossip Girl Update | ECH with Her Low-energy Exterior

Gossip Girl here, ur one and only source into the scandalous lives of Katie’s elite.

Spotted: ECH, the girl who’s like a walking contradiction—she looks like she’s running on empty, but somehow manages to light up the room with her warmth and charm. This chick’s got a vibe that’s all her own, and let me tell u, it’s downright irresistible. May seem like she’s got no energy left in the tank, but don’t be fooled. She’s got this effortless charm that’s like a magnet, pulling u in to her comforting presence. And as a friend, ECH is the real deal. She’s the first person to reach out if she senses that something’s not right with u, and the first to come looking for u if u’re not in sight. She’s like a guardian angel, always looking out for ur well-being and making sure u’re taking care of urself. And speaking of taking care of yourself, she’s like a walking reminder to prioritize ur health. She’ll nag u about eating well and regularly, making sure u’re getting enough rest and staying hydrated. It’s like having ur own personal health coach, and trust me, u’ll be grateful for it in the long run. I want nothing more than for her to find her true happiness. She's got a heart of gold, and it breaks my heart to see her hurt by people who don't appreciate her for who she is. Here's hoping that 2024 is the year she finds the happiness and love she deserves, because if anyone deserves it, it's her. Here’s to u, ECH — the most attentive friend with low-energy exterior.

And who am i? I’m Blair Waldorf’s clone aka Katie Blair that u know.

XOXO, Gossip Girl. 💋

[andthatscanon]

dair parallels (31/?)

Gossip Girl 3x06 // Gossip Girl 5x21

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Its me again... sorry. I was wondeting if icould get poly! Blair x serena x jenny taking care of sick reader? Maybe a quick cameo of Dan checking up On the closest thing he has to a bestie?

🐇

absolutely you can! I hope you like it <3

Under the Weather (poly Serena van der Woodsen, Blair Waldorf, and Jenny Humphrey x gn reader)

Warnings: sick fic, slight hurt/comfort, throwing up/feeling nauseous is talked about a lot here in case that bothers anyone, they/them pronouns used to refer to the reader in a gender neutral manner

You told Serena not to go out in the rain when it was below freezing, but of course she didn't listen and just did what she wanted like usual. She ended up catching a cold from it and was thankfully better within days, but you on the other hand weren't so lucky. Whatever she had was passed onto you, where it erupted into something much worse.

A runny nose, a sore throat, and a pounding headache (not to mention feeling so nauseous you could barely keep food down) were just some of your symptoms. You couldn't even move out of bed you were so weak, which led your partners to think that maybe it couldn't entirely be blamed on a little cold and you got it from somewhere else.

Serena, for her part, felt absolutely awful over what happened, regardless of whether it was her fault or not, and spent most of her time cuddled up in the bed next to you, acting like a remorseful puppy dog. While it was nice to have her there, you had to admit it was a teensy bit annoying how she wouldn't leave your side under an circumstances, even when you had to use the bathroom.

Thank God for your two other girlfriends being there to help you. Jenny did most of the cleaning up after you, and Blair had Dorota make you some homemade soup for when you were strong enough to stomach it. Between the three of them, you were well taken care of, even if you still felt like crap.

"Serena, you've gotta get off me," you grumbled after waking up that afternoon with a temperature that felt like you'd just bathed in a volcano. "I'm burning up."

"Aw, baby, I'm sorry," she cooed before pressing a kiss to your cheek. She pulled herself away from you as she sat up on the bed, just enough to give you a little space. "Do you need an icepack for your head?"

"No, I just- Urgh." Your hands immediately went to your stomach as you rolled over, curling up into a fetal position on your side. "I think I'm going to hurl."

"Jenny, Blair, we need a bucket," the blonde called out for them before reaching her hand out to rub your back, trying to offer you some comfort. "It's okay, honey, I'm here."

"What's going on?" Blair questioned as she entered the room in a hurry, her brow furrowed into a look of concern at the sight of you lying in a ball on the bed.

"We need a bucket. I- I think they're going to be sick," Serena replied as she continued to rub your back, glancing over at Blair as she spoke. "Where's Jenny?"

The brunette's nose wrinkled up at the mention of you getting sick. "She went out a little earlier to get more tissues. I told her I'd have someone get them for her, but she insisted."

Serena sighed and nodded her head in understanding. That sounded like Jenny, alright. Always wanting to do things by herself rather than taking help when it was offered to her. "Okay, well, we're going to need the bucket from earlier. Do you know where it is?"

"Um, yeah. I can go get it for you." She turned and went back down the hall, almost running into Dan on the way out. "What are you doing here?" She questioned with slight suspicion, eyeing him as if he was an underground informant wearing a wire. Blair was known to be protective, but it was amplified when you didn't feel good.

"I just came to check up on them. I heard from Serena that they weren't feeling well," he explained, not at all taken back by her intense demeanor as he was pretty used to it by now.

Leave it to her to blab. Blair knew Serena meant well, but sometimes she ended up doing more harm than good. "Well, she was right. But you can't see them right now. They're about to be sick, and I need to get a bucket for them before that happens." She turned on her heel and left before he could respond.

He considered just leaving like she told him to, but the thought of you, his best friend, laying in bed because you felt so awful made him keep going. He carefully pushed entered the bedroom, the door having been left open. You were still curled up in a ball, with Serena practically glued to your side as you tried your best not to hurl.

"Hey," he greeted in a soft voice as he slowly approached, not wanting to startle you, especially now of all times.

"Honey, look. Dan's here," Serena muttered quietly while giving your arm a light pat to get your attention.

You let out a barely audible groan at the news as you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would somehow alleviate the migraine you had. "B- Bucket," you managed to choke out, a warning that you wouldn't be able to hold down your vomit for much longer.

"Blair!"

As soon as her name was called, the brunette came rushing back in, carrying the bucket. She shot Dan a dirty look as she passed him before setting the bucket down in front of you, which you took gladly. She gently rubbed your shoulder as you puked, both her and Serena doing their best to keep you as calm and safe as possible.

Jenny arrived just then, carrying a grocery bag full of tissues and hand sanitizer, among other things. "Oh, geez," she said under her breath when she saw the state you were in, immediately dropping the bag as she made her way over to you.

"Look, sweetheart, Jenny's back," one of your partners spoke to you, though it was hard to tell who exactly when your head hurt so bad and both your hearing and sight seemed to be dampened significantly as a result of it.

"Hey, baby. I went and got you some more stuff," she spoke in a low and soothing voice while watching you with a visible look of concern.

"Thank you." Your voice was raspy and weak, making you sound as though you were on death's doorstep. Obviously you weren't, but they couldn't help but worry about you regardless.

"Maybe you should get some more rest," Dan suggested as he awkwardly hovered near the bed, wanting to comfort you and help make things better but not really knowing how.

"You know, that's actually a good idea for once," Jenny commented, to which her brother simply rolled his eyes. "Lay down and sleep a little bit more that way you can hopefully get through the worst of it, okay?"

All you could do was nod in agreement, far too weak to protest (not that you wanted to, as a nap sounded really great right about now). You got comfortable in your spot on the bed and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

When you woke up again, you weren't sure how much time had passed, but miraculously you actually felt a little bit better. Blair and Jenny were gone, and surprisingly Serena was, too, though you weren't completely alone as Dan was napping in a chair across the room from you.

"Where is everybody?" You questioned, your voice feeling scratchy and dry from how sick you were. God, you needed some water.

He let out a soft hum as he stretched, clearly not as asleep as you thought he was. "They're downstairs getting something to eat. I told them that I'd watch you so they could take a break without having to worry too much."

"How thoughtful of you, offering to look after sick little old me," you lightly teased in response as you sat up some in bed. "I'm surprised you're not worried about catching whatever it is that I've got."

"Well, at least if I do I'll have you there to take care of me," he quipped in turn, an amused smile toying with his lips as he watched you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he seemed relieved that you weren't nearly as sick as you were when he first came over.

You let out a snort of laughter. "Yeah, right. If you get as sick as I got, you're on your own. Get Vanessa to take care of you."

He was about to retort with his own playful comment when the door opened and all three of your girlfriends came waltzing in. "Baby, you're awake," Serena said as she immediately moved to get on the bed next to you, pulling you in for a hug.

"Serena, be careful with them. You don't know if they're still feeling as awful as they did earlier," Blair chastised with an eye roll at her eagerness while Jenny walked in carrying a bowl of soup.

"Here. I brought you something to eat in case you feel up to it." She gave you a soft smile while setting the bowl down on the nightstand. You had to admit, it smelled heavenly, and for the first time in days your stomach wasn't automatically churning at the thought of consuming food.

"Thanks, J. You're the best." You reached out to take her hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze to show your appreciation. "Do you guys wanna watch a movie or something while I eat?"

"As long as it's not another one of those cheap horror movies," Blair stated while giving Jenny a pointed look.

"Hey, Friday the 13th is a horror classic! It's not my fault that you didn't like it," the younger blonde pouted while crossing her arms before getting on the bed with you.

It was hard not to smile at the sight of them lightheartedly bickering with one another, a sure sign that things were finally going back to normal after they spent so long worried over you and your health. Despite how awful you'd been feeling, you couldn't deny it was nice to be cared for.

You allowed all three of your girlfriends to cuddle up on the bed with you, Dan still in his chair as you turned on the TV and put on some random holiday film. It was enough to make you forget that you'd been sick, at least for a little while.

End notes: I love writing poly stuff hehe 💞 hope you feel a bit better after reading this bunny anon 🫶

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Gossip Girl masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @theonetruepotato87 @caplanreblogsfics @samcvrpenters @bleachxbunny

[esote-rika]

waldorf!reader masterlist

Every single one of these are afab reader and in second person. Reader's personality, (and sometimes her background and appearance, but these are sporadic and will be tagged accordingly) are based on Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl. That said, these are NOT crossovers.

Mostly standalone one shots, unless stated otherwise.

Common tropes will include workplace rivals, enemies to lovers, sunshine x sunshine protector, loser boy x popular girl.

derision as prelude to desire

smut 18+ mdni; you and Spencer are working overtime; things get a little heated.

not a mask, but a reflection

hurt/comfort; Spencer panics as you give him a makeover [implied autistic Spencer]

Part two still in the works

lose some, win some

hurt/comfort, smut 18+ MDNI; COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations.

[mysteriesofloves]

After you’ve had time to process, I absolutely want to hear your thoughts on Taylor’s new album and how it relates to Dair

ah yes, my favourite activity from the national holiday that is taylor swift release day: dairifying the songs

maroon: i claimed this one RIGHT AWAY, do i even need to explain? i chose you, the one i was dancing with in new york with no shoes (taylor mentions new york in a song and i go *leo dicaprio pointing meme* THEM) the rust that grew between telephones the lips i used to call home. very end of s5-s6

anti-hero: i talked about here

snow on the beach: feels so 5x17-5x19 to me… like blair stepping into the loft and dan’s wonder at her wanting him as much as he wants her (you wanting me / tonight feels impossible). and like blair’s face in the met steps scene just screams weird but fucking beautiful !!

midnight rain: the life i gave away / he was sunshine i was midnight rain / he wanted it comfortable i wanted that pain….. WELL.

question…?: i mean. 5x15 kiss but no one clapped for them so. (but: did you wish you’d put up more of a fight / when she said it was too much? OOF)

labyrinth: i clocked that mention of elevators on first listen like HELLO because i’m normal. this song is lovely for dair, especially s4: oh no i’m falling in love again /i thought the plane was going down / how'd you turn it right around?

oh and the line you know how much i hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back just like that is so blair to me! especially wrt like—when she’s been hurt by ch*ck

sweet nothing: god i love this song so much and it’s just so THEM. thinking of all the chaos in their lives and how the loft is this safe haven for them: outside they're push and shoving / you're in the kitchen humming (anyone mentions kitchens in a song/poem and i go *leo dicaprio pointing meme* THEM) all you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing THAT’S REALLY IT! what i talked about in these tags here like there’s just no expectation from dan for blair to drop everything for him, no expectation to be saved or fixed by her (that was just an unexpected result of her love and friendship for him) it’s the first time where there’s NO expectation for her! sweet nothing! just love! oh and of course to you i can admit i’m just to soft for all of it THAT’S IT THATS THEM

paris: DAIRIS ANTHEM THATS RIGHT this song is so… you know what i talked about here about them being isolated but with each other? that’s this song! escaping gossip girl and the chaos of everyone around them. no i didn’t see the news cause we were somewhere else. romance isnt dead if you keep it just yours! in an alleyway drinking cheap champagne!!!!!! this is their song fr

high infidelity: DAIRFAIR ANTHEM blair to ch*ck like: you know there’s many different ways that you can kill the one you love / the slowest way is never loving them enough…do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life? (and again: VERY relevant, perfect timing, 👀👀👀)

glitch: i mean, obviously. we were supposed to be just friends / you don't live in my part of town, but maybe i'll see you out some weekend. literally and then we started making plans to meet and even worse ENJOYING it. literally i never thought the person i’d want would be blair waldorf. i think there’s been a glitch!

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

do you think dan loved/ saw the real Blair. or did he only like Blairs good qualities or the character he created? In 5x24, he says "I thought she had changed" what do you think that line meant?

hi!! i dwelled a LOT on question 1, as you’d probably expect, and there’s a bit on your second question at the end of the ask. i didn’t want to put this under a read more, but... i probably have to, hahaha. oh well... 

a lot of people think that dan liked the version of blair he created (i’m not sure why - maybe because of the way derena played out, or maybe because of “inside” & the fact that he definitely was dreaming of her?) but i personally do not agree with that or buy that at all. i’d argue, even, that dan has never had any illusions about the kind of person blair is.

the first time we really get to hear dan’s thoughts on blair (that i can remember, at least), is in 1x04, when he’s complaining to rufus, and he is downright scathing. he hates her! he has a long list of adjectives about how much he hates her!! 

in the end of s1, he and blair even team up to get revenge on georgina because of the shit she put serena through - that gave me so many feels, the first time i watched it, and i’ve actually been thinking abt that a lot - the parallels between 1x18 & 4x10/4x11 and these two being knights in shining armour for serena. maybe i’ll write a fic about that, later (im getting distracted!!) 

in s2, dan says the very iconic “google revenge and you’ll get blair waldorf dot com” thing to vanessa, who wants to help nate. and this makes perfect sense to dan, because he’s definitely schemed with blair to help someone he loves before, and he knows that when it comes to her best friends, she’ll do anything. stuff like this, to me, is the heart of the dair dynamic (along with a 101 other things, blah) because like... dan can see the good parts of it - the fierce loyalty, the “if you want to help nate, blair’s your best shot, because of how she protects and fights for the people she loves,” while also being cynical about it, like, “oh yeah, blair? she’s schemey, she’s mean, she could probably kill someone and show no remorse.” like... .this is one of the most balanced perspectives on blair, ever. i feel like he really understood both sides of her - the part of her that loves so much and so deeply, and the part of her that can be cruel and causes destruction (i would even say that dan himself sort of operates like this - he can be really kind but he can also be really mean, and. yeah idk i just find it fascinating, how much they have in common.)

he even acts on the wrong instinct at times, like, when he’s expecting her to sabotage him at W so he sabotages her first? like, i don’t think there’s really ever an instance where dan is looking at blair and seeing someone who isn’t there? he might read her wrong sometimes, but i feel like he understands her.  they both understand each other! this jibe is one of my favourites because... i think nads @mysteriesofloves said it perfectly here, specifically, the part where she says:

“serena isn’t there to see him, and she won’t be, and he’ll miss his interview waiting for her to throw one glance at him over her shoulder, the way he always has. he says that whatever scheme blair is plotting is going to backfire. and here’s the thing! they’re both completely right - but it has nothing to do with prediction and everything to do with the fact that they know each other better than they know themselves.”

their entire relationship is a gradual building up, and it definitely has its roots in that, you know? like, dan and blair aren’t the people they were in high school, sure, they’re growing past it, but they knew each other back then, they understood each other back then. dan has seen blair at her best, at her romantic and enthusiastic and intellectual opinionated self (whom he vibes with immensely, remember that pretentious sleepover), and he’s seen blair at her worst, and he loves the part of her that schemes and causes problems (she ruined his award nomination thing in despicable b and he was ready to work through it with her!  i know i talk about this episode a LOT but it just really makes me feel things. why would he forgive her for this, if he didn’t understand/accept that side of her???) 

now, for your second question. i honestly do not really remember (or vibe much) with that episode, but i think the whole “i thought she had changed” had to do with like... blair seeing him as an equal, and not just as some poor boy from brooklyn or whatever. blair is pretty canonically classist early on in the series, and she very openly scoffs and looks down on the humphreys due to like, status & wealth & all that jazz (jenny gets it soooo much worse than dan, but. that’s dan’s sister, he’s allowed to be pissed off.) so i would read this as like.. “i thought she and i really connected as two people who had a lot in common, who had common interests and common life goals and who were able to be honest and open and sincere with each other... but i guess that she still looks at me as that nobody from brooklyn, and she’d much rather date a billionaire who’s been terrible to her, than me, who’s tried my best to support her even when she hurt me.” 

i do think there’s ample canon evidence to support this, too, but i can’t think of what to link and show you here that isn’t...... the whole dair arc, lmao. i just think it was very... dan knew that dating him was out of blair’s comfort zone or dream future / ideal future. so i think that’s the context of “i thought she had changed.” like, a paraphrased “i thought i had a chance.” 

oh damn, now i’m sad. :’)) time to listen to new york city by among savages on repeat again!

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Whatever It Takes

Sebastian’s daughter spends half the time with him and half with her step-mother. Her step-dad goes too far, causing her to run back to her father.

A/N: I ended up combining two requests with this since they were both such good ideas! I hope both of them love it! 

-

           “Please don’t make me go,” you begged your dad as he looked through the apartment to make sure you weren’t leaving anything. “I hate it there.” He, of course, thought you were bluffing. He knew your mom wasn’t the best, but he had full confidence in her as a mother, at least. And he’d seen the house she lived in. It was fine. But he didn’t see how things really were.

           “You have to. It’s what…” He sat down on the arm of the couch.

           “What the court says, I know. But I’m old enough to decide for myself, and I wanna stay with you. Please?” You didn’t know how bad things would have to get for him to let you stay. He was your best friend, and you’d already bent the rules to be able to spend most of the summer with him. But today you absolutely had to go back before your mother threw a colossal fit.

           “You know I wouldn’t let you go unless I absolutely have to, and I absolutely have to. Unless you want to petition the court, there’s no way around it. You have to spend half the time there, it’s what we agreed on.”

           “Yeah, when I was five! Before everything hit the fan!” As soon as your mother had divorced Sebastian, she’d moved in with some crazy guy in his mansion in the Hamptons. And the guy treated you like absolute shit, so your mom did too. They bought you off their backs; every time you threatened to tell the court something, another Louis Vuitton headed your way. You were sick of it, and you were ready to make your own decision and decide to stay with your dad. He was an actor, and he was gone between Atlanta and California and New York, but at least he loved you. You knew he loved you, unlike your mother. Your mother loved the image of a perfect family, even if on the inside it was every kind of abuse but physical. You didn’t want to worry your dad unless you absolutely had to tell him, so you kept your mouth shut.

           “Things didn’t hit the fan, your mom married an asshole and now you don’t want to be there. I get it. Really. But we’ve been over this time and time again, sweetheart. You have to. Unless you have evidence that something’s wrong, they’re not going to change it now. And they already hate me because I’m an actor, because apparently that means I’m not stable.” You knew that wasn’t true. He was the most mentally stable person you knew. You could tell he was at his wit’s end, but you wanted to keep pushing. You wanted to stay. Any bad day with your dad was better than a good day with your mom.

           “Fine,” you said softly. You tried to hide the fact that you were about to cry. You really didn’t want to leave. You had left in the middle of a fight and you knew things were going to be even worse when you came back, especially if you told them that your dad had taken you to California with him without asking them first.

           “I love you,” he said as he stood up, noticing that you were visibly upset. “You know that. I’ll call the lawyers again and see what they say. It’s been a few years since anything happened, so maybe they’d be willing to hear you out. But don’t get your hopes up, okay?” You nodded and hugged him tightly, trying to regain control of your breathing before it got worse.

           “Okay.”

           “I’ll help you load up.” One by one, you got your bags in the overly luxurious SUV your mother had bought you, and before you knew it he was handing you a twenty for something to eat along the way. “Please get real food and not just iced coffee,” he insisted. You got into the driver’s seat and smiled. At least he knew enough about you to know that was your plan.

           “Only because you asked nicely.”

           “Drive safe, babe, okay?” You nodded and started the car, checking the blind spot monitor before driving off toward the highway. You spent most of the time in the car making an internal list of all of the terrible things your mother had done, even though you knew it wouldn’t be enough and you would never care to write it down.

           You settled with cruise control for most of the drive, even though it was a bumpy road back to East Hampton, and finally pulled into the perfectly landscaped driveway of your step-dad’s mansion. There weren’t any other cars in the driveway, so you assumed your mom was off shopping, as usual, and your step-dad was probably cheating on her because that was just how things worked. You were only half joking when you thought about it.

           “Hello?” You called when you reached the house, just to make sure. You strained your neck to look up to the balcony, the huge chandelier reflecting in the bright sunlight. No one was home, except maybe one of the housekeepers. You took your things up the elevator, because the house was just that crazy, and settled back into your room. Your room there was gorgeous. Blair Waldorf would be jealous of it. But it wasn’t you. You and your dad had painted all of the furniture in your room at his house, together, and you’d picked everything out until you had to leave. Your dad had finished the room, too, and he knew you so well that it was perfect. You loved it. You hated this room. What a problem, right? Sheets getting changed every day, a private closet full of designer clothes… What a terrible life it was. That was how they reeled you in; if things looked good on the outside, it meant that nobody would dare look on the inside. It was a dollhouse. A shitty, expensive dollhouse.

           You spent most of the afternoon unpacking everything and changing out of the clothes your mother hated seeing you in. Instead you changed into an uncomfortable but put together outfit and waited. You were unpacking your makeup, thinking about seeing if one of your friends wanted to go to the beach later, when your door blew open. It was your mother, fresh from a shopping trip.

           “I see you’re back,” she responded. “How was it?”

           “Great,” you said. “How is everything here?” Your mother shrugged.

           “It’s the Hamptons. Roger is having some friends over tonight, so don’t ruin things for us.” You internally rolled your eyes. “That means…”

           “Stay in my room,” you interrupted. “I know.” That was another thing – your mom and step-dad wanted you out of their way as much as possible. That meant being all but locked in your room when guests came over. It was like you didn’t even exist. That was another difference – your dad couldn’t wait to show you off, especially because you were interested in film.

           You did what she said. You stayed in your room, thankful that you kept snacks up there, and watched TV for most of the night until everybody left. You could tell that they were ridiculously drunk, but that wasn’t new. You wanted out of there, once and for all, and just in case someone tried anything, you set your phone to record sound before putting it in the pocket of your sweatshirt. You walked down the stairs, seeing the cleaning staff working in the kitchen, and made a beeline for it. Before you could get there, though, your step-dad grabbed onto your arm.

           “You’re back, I see,” he said. He was too close for comfort and you tried to wrestle your arm away, but you couldn’t. He was too strong. You could feel a bruise forming on your arm. That would be a fantastic picture.

           “Yeah,” you replied.

           “Thank you for not making any noise earlier. This was too important to have you mess up.” You knew he was just being an ass, but it hurt. Were you really that bad?

           “Yeah, whatever. I’m going to bed.” You started to walk, but he didn’t let go. “Can you let go of me?” He did what you asked, finally, and when you pulled your arm away there was a bruise on it. You hoped it would fade, but not before you took pictures of it. Maybe them being like this was a blessing in disguise. Still, though. They’d never gone so far as to put a hand on you.

           You were careful in the coming week. Beyond careful. You slipped in and out, minded your own business, and made yourself as scarce as possible. But they had a rule that you had to come home each night, so you did. As soon as the town curfew kicked in, you were home. They always found a reason to come to your room, whether it was lecturing you about leaving your car in the wrong spot in the driveway or taking the wrong towel out to the pool. And your step-dad kept getting more and more violent. As soon as one bruise would fade, another would start on your arm or your shoulder from him just grabbing onto you too hard. Of course your mom wouldn’t do anything about it. She only looked out for herself. You didn’t want to worry your dad, so you just pretended like everything was okay.

           “I’m glad things are going well,” he said over the phone one night. “Maybe they just needed some time.”

           “Yeah,” you responded. You were being fake as hell and you prayed that he didn’t notice it. You were also trying not to cry. That night had been a bad one; they’d had guests over without telling you and you’d gone down the stairs. You had another bruise on your wrist, and this time there was a fingernail mark, too.

           “Listen, I gotta go, I’m meeting up with some people for a dinner meeting.”

           “Okay.” You felt stupid, but you didn’t want to let him go. Your eyes filled to the brim with tears. You just wanted him. “I love you.”

           “I love you too, sweetie.” You hung up the phone and crawled back into bed, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You wanted to go home. You had friends, sure, but you felt so lonely in that huge house with people who hated you. You were sure your mom and step-dad wouldn’t even care if you left. You wanted to test it, but you were scared. You let yourself cry a little more, just to get everything out, and decided to watch TV until you felt a little better. You wanted to watch LOST, the show you and your dad had been watching all summer together, but you didn’t want to watch it without him.

           It was late before you finally went down to the kitchen again, bare-footed so your feet wouldn’t make much noise, and tried to get some water. Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one with the idea. Your step dad was sitting there, at the table, drinking. As always. He was draining a bottle of rum that probably cost more than your car did.

           “Well, well, well,” he said. “Haven’t seen you the past few days.” That was right. Because you were avoiding him.

           “Yeah,” you tried to hide it with a shrug as you reached for a glass. The last bruise he’d left had disappeared, and hopefully it wouldn’t be replaced. “Haven’t been feeling well. I think I’m getting sick or something.” Your step-dad smirked.

           “Sure you are. Or maybe you just don’t want to see us. You want to run off with your real daddy, I know that, but you could at least try to be a part of this family.” Your eyes were filling up just as quickly as your glass was with ice. You switched it over to the water. You had a bad feeling in your stomach.

           “Okay,” you responded calmly. “I’ll try and make a better effort. I’m sorry.” He walked up to you then, like he always did, but he didn’t do anything. Not at first.

           “Sorry for what? Being such a little bitch all the time?” That was crossing a line. He’d never called you that, not to your face. You were always just the brat to him. Not bitch. You wanted to end the conversation. Fight or flight kicked in and you wanted to run away. Maybe you could take the back staircase. It was quicker, and you could lock your room so he couldn’t get in. You were frozen in fear, breathing heavily, about to start crying again like the little kid you were. He grabbed your arm, for real this time, and you noticed that you were shaking. This was going to leave a darker bruise than normal, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to see you upset.

           “That’s what I thought. Cry-baby. Go run off, see if we care. We’ll get full custody, anyway.” So you decided that’s what you would do. You walked away, noticing that he didn’t follow you, and he probably didn’t think you were serious. He was probably thinking you were going upstairs to cry, which you were. But you were going to pack, too.

           You packed as many of your clothes as you could get in a suitcase, a full backpack with your laptop in it, and the few pictures you knew you would want. You threw your makeup bag into another bag and started cleaning up the room. By the time you made up the bed and cleared the closet out, it was like no one even lived there. You went out to the balcony. He was in bed. Your mom had gone to bed long ago. So you lifted up your suitcase and brought it down to the entry hallway. It was pouring rain outside, but you didn’t care. You had to get out of there, fast. You started your car with your phone, turning the lights off so you wouldn’t be seen from their window, and loaded everything back into the car. The time to drive back to the city was two hours normally, but you could cut it down. It was nearly three in the morning, you knew that, but you had to get out of there. The last thing you did was leave the house key on the kitchen table, along with the two credit cards they gave you that you almost never used.

           You must have looked like a mess to anyone driving alongside you – you were still in your pajamas and a wet raincoat, your car was packed full, and you were crying. But you hit traffic at the bridge and, by the time you pulled into your dad’s garage, you could tell that the kitchen light was on. He was awake. You shut the car off and took your phone with you, walking up the stairs to the first floor.

           Your dad was standing there, making one of those protein shakes he always drank. He looked like he was about to go for a run. He looked over at you as you entered, eyes wide, and shut off the blender he was using.

           “You’re supposed to be at your mom’s!” He said.

           “I had to get out of there. I can’t stay there,” you explained. “I have it recorded, but I had to get out. Please just let me stay.”

           “Hold on, hold on, you drove here in the middle of the night by yourself?” You nodded. “Do they know?”

           “No.”

           “Jesus, Y/n. I need to call the lawyers right now. Do you know what you just did?” You took off your rain jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and held out your arm. The bruise was dark purple and clear as day. “Did he do that to you?”

           “Yes. I have all of the pictures and I recorded all of our conversations. I’m sorry I came here without telling you but I had to get out of there.” You could see the rage burning in his eyes, but it wasn’t for you. The first thing he did was wrap you in a hug, tightly, and that was enough. You let yourself start crying, again, just because you were so relieved. Nothing could hurt you here. Not your mom, not your step-dad.

           “I need to call the lawyers. Go un-pack for me and we’ll figure this out, okay, honey?” He rubbed your back for a second as you prepared to pull away from him. You went to go unpack your bags and your dad started calling everyone he knew to call. You doubted they would even care that you were gone, but you definitely didn’t want to cause a media frenzy that would make your dad look bad. That was the absolute last thing you wanted to do was screw him over. Finally, the calls were all over and your dad walked into your room. You’d taken a shower and changed clothes by then, warming up from the cold rain. You’d driven with your air on full blast the entire time without even realizing it.

           “Hey,” he said. “I called the lawyer. They’re sending some police and CPS over to talk things through, but it looks like I can get full custody at least temporarily. You might have to go to court for it, but…”

           “I don’t want to. I just want out of there.” He sat down beside you on the bed, pulling you in.

           “I know you don’t want to. And it’ll be hard. But they hurt you. Multiple times. And you literally have all of the proof you need on your phone. They’re not gonna hurt you again, I won’t let them. Whatever it takes.” You nodded, sniffling a little. You were such a crybaby. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.”

           “Nobody did. He never started acting like that until I got back.” He ran a hand through your hair.

           “It’s over now, okay? You’re home with me.” You were resting your head in his shoulder when there was a knock at the front door, followed by the shout that it was police. He offered you a hand and you took it, like you always did, and walked down the stairs.

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Drop the Evie essay you wrote

okay so first of all it wasn’t really an essay the way some of my ramblings are, more like just me writing down all of my thoughts in a vaguely coherent manner bc my brain was running too fast to really organize it 

and second of all, just to be on the safe side, these are the potential trigger warnings that I would give for the essay — I don’t know if they all actually come up or not, but better safe than sorry, so proceed with caution!

Potential TWs: being outed, parental neglect, character death (canon), suicide attempts (semi-canon), eating disorders, lots of mental health issues, and lots of general trauma and feelings of never being good enough, and canon typical references to drinking/drugs/partying/etc

so just like a fun fact, Evie’s vitamin water of choice is zero sugar strawberry lemonade and yes i spent too long reading reviews on different flavours all because gossip girl did an entire product placement episode

anyways now onto real thoughts let’s go lesbians let’s go

so okay evie has a... very negative experience with Lily’s various boyfriends and husbands.  When Evie was younger she was always hopeful that this time would be different, that they’d be a family, that her mom would actually stick around, and every single time she’s been let down and left heartbroken.  When her mom starts dating Bart, Evie is very against it but she just can’t be bothered to even try to talk to Lily — Lily will date him, maybe get married, play house, abandon her children, then get divorced, and the cycle will repeat, and Lily will never give a shit about how her children feel about it.  Bart is just the latest rich man for Lily to set her sights on.  Given the overall shittiness of most of Lily’s exes, Evie had figured she would be a lot more vocally against Lily dating again, but Bart... 

Bart himself may terrify Evie, but Evie’s unwavering faith that Chuck will always protect her outweighs that fear, and Evie has long since given up on her mom caring about her opinions so she just takes comfort in the fact that Chuck will be there and tries to just ignore the rest — and the fact that Bart is pretty much always away does help with that.  That being said, she was very distraught when Bart spends season 1 christmas with them, but then Bart’s “present��� for her was flying Chuck home for a few days because Lily mentioned that Eric was teasing Evie about being excited about having Chuck as a brother, and he's trying to semi-win over the kids (aka bribe them into accepting him as Lily’s fiancé)

Evie speaks several languages!  She started learning French and Spanish at a very young age, and then picked more up from Lily’s various husbands.  She’s not fluent in all of them but she can hold conversations in eight languages — and four of them were from Lily’s boyfriends (and italian was half pieced together from French and Spanish), and she just keeps learning more because she tries to keep herself too busy to think at any given moment

Rufus is her favourite step-dad by far, but Chuck is her favourite step-sibling (and second favourite sibling, after Eric).  That being said, Bart was surprisingly decent to her because even he quickly figured out that Evie has the innate ability to get Chuck to do basically anything, and he wanted her on his side, only he underestimated how much Evie hates him for treating Chuck like shit — as she says in 2x07, “if you want us to be a family, you should learn how to be a dad”

Evie has a bit of a thing for stealing coats lmao — it’s not unusual to find her stealing Chuck, Eric, Theo, or even Nate’s jackets when she gets cold or starts feeling particularly self conscious.  At the housewarming party she actually gets to bothered by all the media watching her constantly that Chuck goes and gets her one of his blazers to replace the cropped one she was wearing, and she immediately feels a bit more at east

Evie is a jock like it’s understated but she’s on multiple sports teams at school and plays outside of school too — she’s also in dance classes several times a week, along with private vocal lessons, and being part of every theatre production at Constance Billard (musicals and plays), and is on the yearbook committee.  Basically, Evie needs a fucking nap, and with a lot of pushing from Chuck and Eric and Theo (to balance out Blair “do absolutely everything in the name of Yale” Waldorf) she does eventually ease up on her extra-curriculars

She holds far too much power in the Constance-St Jude hierarchy.  She’s a freshman, but it’s well known that Evie is completely untouchable.  Some people (cough Jenny) might try to cross Blair, but no one is stupid enough to go after Evie — she’s not just Blair’s protégée, she’s also under Chuck’s protection.  And when Jenny does try to cross her in season 3 (physical and emotional bullshit, public humiliation, telling the entire school she’d tried to kill herself and had been at Ostroff not “in florida”), well... she learns that even being family won’t stop her entire life from being destroyed

Speaking of Jenny... that’s a very messy relationship — I want to like Jenny, I really do, but I just... don’t so far.  They’re a very sweet relationship early on, neither of them had dated before and they were just really smitten with each other and things were good.  There were definitely some issues because of the Jenny-Blair war, but they’d been okay — or so Evie had thought, until Jenny dumped her by means of introducing everyone to her new boyfriend, Asher.  Then of course there’s the party and Jenny outing her, and then just not talking to her for months until she needs something from them (an in to the White Party).  Eric manages to convince Evie to play nice, but he does so under the impression that Jenny had apologized to Evie — he didn’t know she’d only apologized to him.  Eventually Jenny does apologize and Evie tries to forgive her, and she keeps giving Jenny more and more second chances (especially once they become step sisters), but Jenny really just keeps hurting Evie to get on top because with Blair gone, Evie immediately becomes the new queen, and Jenny cares more about being queen than being nice.  Little does she realize that part of why Evie became queen with no challenge is because she’s nice.

and regarding Evie’s other relationships... so serena was a really good big sister when Eric & Evie were kids — Blair was the responsible sister and Serena was the fun sister, but it was a good balance and it worked.  But when the twins were around eleven and Serena was around 13, she became besties with Georgina Sparks, and everything went to shit.  Serena started getting into partying and drinking and drugs and became just as flighty and unreliable as Lily, which takes a significant toll on the twins’ mental health — side note, one of their therapists at the Ostroff Centre believes that their significant codependency stems from the abandonment issues they have as a result of Lily and Serena just up and leaving them whenever anything “better” comes along.

And unfortunately for the twins, this was around the same time (grade 6) that Theo got sent to boarding school, so really they lost both their sister and their best friend at the same time, and Theo leaving also messed up the overall group dynamics and they half lost Nate too — he was still in their lives but he went from being the dad to Blair’s mom to being more of a big brother, and there was this sort of hole that didn’t get filled until a couple of years later.

And of course, a lot of it then fell to Blair to try to fill that hole and the holes left by Serena and Lily and went from being sort of “mom friend big sister” to “literally the closest thing we have to a mom”, which is also just a lot of pressure for a thirteen year old girl and part of why Blair and Chuck got a lot closer after he ended up becoming their dad was because she finally had someone that she could talk to too.

Also like full disclosure, Chuck never really intended to become their dad.  He started off as a reluctant big brother because he was Nate’s best friend and Nate was the dad friend when they were younger, and Evie just kind of decided that she loved him and like no one can argue with Evie so all of a sudden he was part of the family.  He doesn’t really become dad until the van der Woodsens move into the hotel because suddenly Eric and Evie are just always there, and he doesn’t even realize it until months later, after Serena is gone and he realizes that he’s been skipping parties to like play mario kart and shit with the twins and Blair is just like “lmao yeah buddy you’re the last one to get this memo”

and then there’s this list that I made of the NJBC’s roles in raising the twins and theo back when they were younger

Blair: holds their hands to cross the street, teaches them not to talk to people who wear sneakers or to strangers, teaches them how to dress themselves like respectable people, makes them finish their homework before watching tv, hates all of their nannies and only trusts dorota to take care of them Nate: teaches them to tie their laces and their ties, plays video games and sports with them, helps them with homework and doesn't get impatient when they struggle, lets them use his notebooks to draw in when they're bored Chuck: will destroy anyone who hurts them, teaches them street smarts and how to tell when someone is lying, is the one who lets them do dumb and reckless things because he'd rather they do them when he's there to get in trouble, still refuses to believe that they know what sex is Serena: reminded them that it's okay to have fun and draw outside the lines, stood up for them when lily was being a shit mom and always tried to protect them from the worst of her neglect, came up with games to play when they were sad to take their minds off whatever is upsetting them

And Theo!!!!!!  Theo has been their best friend for their entire lives!  They’ve known him since they were babies and the three of them have always been inseparable!  Like highkey they were just a more functional NJBC lmao, and we love them for it!  Theo getting sent to boarding school was really hard on all three of them but they stayed in constant contact and whenever Theo is back in the city, it’s almost impossible to see them not together.  Theo does know that they were in the Centre, so once he’s back full time, he’s spending as much time visiting them as he can!  Even when Eric and Theo are dating (and later when Evie and Theo are dating), the group dynamics really never change!  It’s still always the three of them, and sometimes Jenny in s1, they’re still each other’s family, and they’re still just a bit too interdependent to be entirely healthy (it’s the trauma and neglectful parents)

on a slightly related note, neither of the twins drink anything other than champagne and sometimes wine, and neither of them touch drugs at all, and it’s entirely because of Serena.  They’ve both seen how much she’s changed since she got into that scene, and especially since ‘liking partying’ turned into ‘alcohol addiction’, and they’re both too afraid of ending up like that to even take the risk.  It’s something that definitely sets them apart from pretty much any of their peers, but they’ve gotten very good at just laughing it off with a “hey, I just don’t want to end up on Gossip Girl tomorrow” which people generally accept

(that being said, Evie did smoke for a while pre-canon bc cigarettes curb hunger, but she hasn’t smoked at all since ending up in the Centre, and once she’s out too many people have an eye on her for her to even try, and she does want to stop)

(TW ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, fairly detailed discussion) so okay the breaking point for the twins... lily had just gone awol again and Blair was away visiting her dad and evie was at the archibalds’ house hanging out with theo, who was home for a weekend, and eric didn’t want to call anyone because lily’s disappearance had left him in a spiral of feeling annoying and like people didn’t really want him in their lives and there wasn’t a specific trigger but instead of the spiral slowing down or evie/chuck/blair being able to pull him out of it, it just kept getting worse until he was slitting his wrist in the bathroom — only Evie had just gotten home and when he didn’t reply to her calling his name, she got freaked out and started looking for him and when she saw him, she just... couldn’t deal.  She called 911 for eric but then she was just in the bathroom and covered in his blood and she didn’t know what to do and she needed to calm down so she grabbed a bottle of valium that she thinks was Lily’s but instead of just taking one pill she ended up taking all of them and downing them with a bottle of vodka serena had hidden — once she realized what she’d done she called Chuck and basically just said “I think I fucked up” and Chuck freaks out (understandably) and rushes to their suite and gets there basically just in time to see both of them being loaded into an ambulance; he claims he’s their brother and rides with them to the hospital where he calls blair, and arranges for his jet to pick her up asap, and then tries (unsuccessfully) to get in touch with lily

[cromwxll]

                          “NEVER TRUST A PRETTY SMILE LACED WITH POISON.”

⌠ 𝑮𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑵 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑾𝑶𝑶𝑫, 𝟐𝟏, 𝑪𝑰𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑳𝑬, 𝑯𝑬/𝑯𝑰𝑴 ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, 𝑹𝑯𝒀𝑺 𝑪𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳! according to their records, they’re a 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻 year, specializing in 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑼𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑺, 𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬, & 𝑨𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 + 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵; and they 𝑫𝑰𝑫 go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( 𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑿𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑪𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑫 𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺, 𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑫 𝑪𝑼𝑭𝑭𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮, and 𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑹-𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑼𝑬𝑫 𝑳𝑰𝑬𝑺  ). when it’s the 𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑷𝑰𝑶’s birthday on 𝟏𝟎/𝟑𝟎/𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟖, they always request their 𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑲𝑶𝑻𝑺𝑼 𝑹𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵 from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. 

* / CHARACTER INFLUENCES: LOGAN ECHOLLS ( Veronica Mars ) + GINA LINETTI ( Brooklyn 99 ) + BLAIR WALDORF ( Gossip Girl ) + VARYS “THE  SPIDER” ( Game of Thrones ) + OLIVIA POPE ( Scandal ) + LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR ( Lucifer ) + NUCKY THOMPSON ( Boardwalk Empire )

* / VINE REFERENCES: x x x

* / PERSONAL ANTHEM: BEEF FLOMIX - Flo Milli

Hi all, I’m Bri and this is my mess of a child RHYS. Feel free to like this post or hmu on discord if you want to plot :)

TW: Abuse, depressive thoughts, substance abuse, sex. Read with caution.

* / GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Rhysand Salvatore Cromwell.

KNOWN AS: Rhys.

AGE: Twenty-one.

DATE OF BIRTH: October 30, 1998.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Manhattan, New York.

GENDER: Cisgender male.

PRONOUNS: He/him.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

RELIGION: Agnostic.

* / PHYSICAL & MENTAL CHARACTERISTICS

HEIGHT: 5'11 ( the last inch escapes him ).

WEIGHT: 168 lbs.

HAIR COLOUR: Black.

EYE COLOUR: Black.

TATTOOS: Gavin’s tattoos.

PIERCINGS: None ( you can see ).

BODY TYPE: Athletic.

PHYSICAL HEALTH: Peak.

NOTABLE PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS: Signature smirk, dark eyes, curly hair.

FACE CLAIM: Gavin Leatherwood.

VOICE CLAIM: Gavin Leatherwood’s speaking voice.

CLOSET / STYLE: Chuck Bass.

ILLNESSES / CONDITIONS: Dyslexic ( kept secret ).

ADDICTIONS: Making people cry.

VICES: Wrath, pride.

* / BACKGROUND, OCCUPATION & EDUCATION

BIRTHPLACE: Manhattan, New York.

RAISED: UES Manhattan, New York.

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Gallagher Academy.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, German, learning Japanese.

EDUCATION LEVEL: HS diploma from spy academy.

FINANCIAL STATUS: Upper class / Wealthy.

* / FAMILIAL BACKGROUND

FATHER: Salvatore Cromwell.

MOTHER: Natalia Cromwell ( née ? ).

SIBLINGS: None.

BIRTH ORDER: Only child.

RELATIONSHIP WITH FAMILY: Tense/Estranged.

PATERNAL GRANDPARENTS: Francis Cromwell + Constance Cromwell ( née Delgado ).

MATERNAL GRANDPARENTS: n/a.

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None/Rose Park ( deceased ).

* / PERSONALITY

POSITIVE: Intelligent, charming, loyal, and dedicated.

NEGATIVE: Impulsive, cynical, arrogant, and wrathful.

ZODIAC: Scorpio.

MBTI TYPE: ENTJ.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral.

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

AESTHETIC: Bubble baths, whiskey-filled crystal tumblers, penthouse parties, hate fucking until dawn, scarred knuckles, YSL cologne, secret hiding spots, guilt-ridden hues, broken promises, sly smirks with hidden intentions, uncontrollable impulsion, designer scarves, wrathful masochism, rolling blunts in town cars, full passports, lost boy syndrome, knives on tongues, hallowed out chest.

* / BIO: There was no option for Rhys on the night of his birth, he was destined for GREATNESS. Born to Salvatore Cromwell, a high ranking official in the Directorate of Operations of the CIA, and his wife Natalia on a chilly October night ─ the night before Halloween as a matter of fact ─ both saw his arrival as the best thing to happen to their seemingly perfect family. In a sense. And so he had to be the best.

He went to the best schools, only associated with the best families, the best parties and clothes and girlfriends, they were only the best of the best. Growing up, he didn’t recognize the pressure put on him was insurmountable. The lifestyle he lived didn’t expose him to those who had other options and chose their own path. He grew up with kids whose lives were planned out the second they were born. Just like him. Rhys assumed they were all the same. All their mothers were knocking back martinis with the egg white omelet they had for breakfast every morning, didn’t they? And when their dad came home after months of being away and says he was passed up for promotion again, he grabbed their arm so tight that sometimes it felt like it was gonna snap, right? His mother’s tears were normal. Getting hit with a belt any time he scored lower than expected on tests were normal. So why didn’t it feel normal?

Rhys’ home life was the one element he couldn’t control. But his social life he could. At school, he was a legend. With a family name like Cromwell, notorious to have spawned politicians and businessmen and entrepreneurs over the past couple of centuries, all great in their own right, Rhys was known. And he liked it. He had the perfect life at the spy school his father enrolled him in. With a group of friends as close-knit as they could be in a world driven by infamy and lies and a girlfriend he loved more than life itself, Rhys couldn’t imagine anything better. Until it wasn’t.

Rhys loved his girlfriend Rose Park. He knew he did because he treated her the way his father should’ve treated his mother. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, no relationship was, but they always found their way back to one another. For Rhys, she was a shining beacon of light and love and hope that one day, life would be better. That was until he found polaroids of Rose kissing their mutual best friend, Josephine. He was stunned. For a week he avoided her and their friends like the plague. What he felt wasn’t anger or rage, he didn’t turn spiteful, he was just...heartbroken. In the end, all he wanted was Rose’s happiness. While he hoped this was a need for sexual exploration, he knew that if Rose wanted to be with someone else that he would still support her. Because he loved her. And living a life with her in it as his friend was better than one without her at all. He was going to tell her this.

Until she was murdered.

Her death happening because her personal bodyguard, Josephine’s father, left her unprotected to tend to Jo’s sickness, sent him into a spiraling downfall. When his mother left a few weeks later, it only added to his growing pain. Nothing made sense. Not how his mother could just leave, no note, no anything. Not how his father barely flinched when he noticed all of her stuff gone. Not how the world seemed to keep on spinning even though Rose was gone. And especially, not how Josephine got to keep on with her life like nothing had changed. The pain he felt only escalated day by day, echoed on by the empty townhouse he returned to every day and the quiet dinners spent with housekeepers while his dad was away. He needed an outlet. And a target along with it.

His senior year, Rhys directed the anger he felt on the girl who took everything from him. Every spiteful word thrown at her, the influence he inspired on the rest of the student body to do the same, it all helped the throbbing ache that constantly permeated his body. When school was over for the day, he turned to recreational forms of comfort that went beyond his usual party favors. How he was able to graduate top of the class is still something that escapes him to this day. But his father knew of his antics and decided that his son would not go to college and only drown further in his sorrows.

In the CIA it’s called “The Lakehouse”. A remote hideout meant to kick into shape covert specialists by training them in all things brutality. Rhys was only there for two years, off the record, where he excelled in weapons and hand-to-hand combat while his pain was to be used as a driving force. There, his father finally sculpted him into the “perfect” son he always wanted: ruthless, cunning, heartless. It was here that Rhys realized that his father never cared about a family, but rather a legacy. Rhys was his breathing legacy, and he’d continue to be so once enrolled at Gallagher.

Waiting for admittance to Gallagher over the summer left him curious. His skills were now more finely honed, so he actively began to seek out his mother’s whereabouts. He quickly realized that it would be difficult, as the name he knew her by was not real. Her social security, passport, ID, even family photos, were all fake. Part of him wasn’t shocked, as marrying someone who was a complete fraud just for appearance's sake sounds like some his father would do, but in the end, it only left him with more questions. Who was she? Where did she go? Why did she leave?

Rhys hopes to find these answers now that he’s attending one of the top spy universities in the world. Surely, they’ll be able to help him find answers. Otherwise, he’ll take them for himself if he has to. On the plus side, if things ever turn out worse than he imagined and the pain returns tenfold, at least he has little Josephine here with him to keep him company. Two years later, she’s just as small, just as fragile. And Rhys always did enjoy breaking things.

* / PERSONALITY: He’s the stereotypical pretty boy with a side of trauma. Cocky. Sweet talker. Renowned partier. Excels in everything he puts his mind to, for what he’d like to think is for himself, but deep down it’s for the recognition and approval from his father. Though his father tried to mold him into something unfeeling, like a brutal machine, it’s just not in his nature. Rhys feels. A lot. That’s why he’s still hurting over the death of a girl he loved over three years ago. Maybe it’s because it was the only healthy relationship he had in his life, and one of the only events he’s held no control over. A stickler for how he likes things, he’s very particular about who he interacts with. At Gallagher, he will be no different. He’s the best, and he needs to be surrounded by only the best.

* / WANTED RELATIONSHIPS: His bros, competition at the school, someone he trusts enough to tell about locating his mom ( only it won’t be immediate but a relationship that builds up to it ), and the usual ( party friends, lovers, etc...)