#Love me some characters that are all prim and proper

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ CHALKBOARD AND NAILS

tw. noncon, yandere, dumbification, objectification, daddy kink, some degradation, some praise, threats, brief mention of murder and blood, hair pulling, forced oral wordcount. 4.5k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @totalleelee ♡♡♡ here you are my loVE!!! happy late birthday to your friend as well, and I really hope you guys enjoy it! I always like getting to write new characters and Nanami was definitely a fun one. I had to make the fic longer bc I wanted moreEeeeee but yea i just really really hope you enjoy it, and thank you again a miLLIOn for commIng me iM so sO HONOUREDDD

nanami kento x fem!reader

You should think about what you’re doing. Lying upside down off the couch with your eyes big and long, distracting lashes and your hair hanging; casting playful shadows on the floor when you move. His couch. He’d like to believe you’re doing it on purpose -hell, most people would probably be inclined to- when you’ve got that coy, little smile on your face and your shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of skin above your pants.

He would assume if you had ever dared to come onto him in any way. But you haven’t, and so he can’t, not when you remain the perfectly sweet, kind, respectful graduate they hired only a few years ago— and it makes him too aware of you.

Nanami’s not the prim and proper bootlicker Gojo jokes he looks like; so among the other sorcerers, it isn’t even too illogical that you would cling to him a little. A kouhai dumped on his doorstep when the higher-ups decided to employ them fresh out of school. If it were anyone else, he would’ve complained until the choice was overruled. But you’re not anyone else. He can’t even lie about the fact that he’s grown quite the attachment to you.

Your bubbly, engaged energy and blueberry scented shampoo and cheap coffee in styrofoam cups that you always, always forget to throw away at the end of the day. Your chattering that rings through his brain before he goes to sleep and the way you talk and talk and talk when he won’t. You’re the exact opposite of an enigma, because that would require that you left him with some mysteries, and you don’t have the ability to keep your mouth shut. He hates how easy you wind him around your little finger, and he hates that he hates it.

Nanami’s not a dependant guy- and it seems to be your goal to prove him so fucking wrong.

“Why wouldn’t that be possible? I mean, it’d be hard if suddenly a curse shows up and you’re called up in the middle of the night and have to rush to work, and our rates of serious injury are pretty high. But I think I could make it work! Y’know, communication is key and all that.” Your pretty lips shine as you ramble on. You prop your head onto one arm, and turn over so your leg is basically straddling his furniture. “Have you ever dated a non-sorcerer while you’ve been a grade one, Nanamin?”

He lets out a slow exhale, and shifts his gaze back from the lines of your throat to his book so you don’t catch him looking. “No.”

“Not once? In like twelve years?” You raise a brow like you’ve suddenly discovered he’s some ancient fossil dug up from the canal.

“I prefer not to leave my partners for weeks on end with no explanation because the sorcerer world forbids it— so no. And I didn’t graduate twelve years ago, brat.” With the spine of the book he taps your nose, before getting up from the chair to join you on the couch. The few drinks have been abandoned as you finally let the blood back out of your head and wobble like a deer, blinking too slowly. Even now, you’re pretty. Prettier than he wants you to be, taking in the soft slope of your nose and the pillowy lips and your stupid flush on your face. Brat is right.

“I think I’ll do it,” you declare after a few seconds, and rest your head back into the couch with a pout. “I get lonely. And most sorcerers have giant egos.” He’s not sure if it takes him aback -can’t place the emotion that washes over him a few inches at a time- but he finds himself watching the side of your face a little too tightly. The cogs turn in his head and send some uncomfortable cold to gather in the pit of his stomach. Your lashes flutter and some wetness lines your waterline, and he can tell that you mean it. It isn’t the alcohol, he knows you better than enough.

When you look up at him, your faces are only a few inches apart— soft breaths filling the narrow space between. Has he ever told you he loves you? He’s not a man of too many words, that’s always been more your style than his— so probably not. But he does. So much it carves a gaping hole in his chest upon impact. He doesn’t have to say anything to see the way your eyes flutter shyly with the near perfect closeness. As your silence hangs as the room disappears, his hand twitching on his thigh. Aren’t you partly his like he’s yours? That’s how it should work. It’s the only logical course of action, and so he can’t help but lean in.

You’re just too shy to say anything- right? You wouldn’t hang out with him so much if you didn’t, wouldn’t trust and touch him, or confide in him so much if you didn’t. His heart burns in his chest the closer you seem to get. But before he can finish up the gap, you giggle and back away. “Wow! Hey, we almost kissed.” Your voice is a higher pitch than normal, but still rambly. Fuck. “I didn’t expect you to be so close when I looked up,” your nose and cheeks are burning hot, “you scared me, Nanamin~”

You stand from the couch instead, and lean towards him with that little smile that drives him crazy at night. “Senpai, it’s clearly time for me to go home. I’m getting sloppy.” You are. And as much as he wants to use that as an excuse to grab you by your waist and pull you into his lap, it wouldn’t do any good. Not when you’re too busy running your mouth to understand the consequences. He loves you, but you’re one infuriating little runt. You run your hand through his hair like it’s an intrusive thought, spilling loose locks onto his forehead, and then you smack your lips. “Will you see me to the door at least?”

For not the first time, he blames your loose lips for making it so hard for him.

+

You’re entirely different outside the four walls of his apartment.

It’s a coincidence that he finds himself across the street as he spots you walking under the streetlights with a little jump in your step. You look a different sort of formidable— clinging to the arm of some plain fucking loser that is so very clearly drooling all over you. It’s almost pathetic how easily swayed the guy is, as you bat your lashes and smile at him. And somewhere in the back of his mind, it rings a little familiar, but common sense and logic get pushed down a little under the feeling of anger that he feels bubbling up in him.

Not at you— though he told you he didn’t think it a good idea, you’ve always been a bit dense. In need of protection. It isn’t an option, and Nanami’s responsible for you. He looks out for you. This fucking loser though, is oblivious about anything but the skin your dress is showing off. In the brief few moments he gets to spot you walking off towards your street, that much becomes clear. You love making it hard for him. You’re basically magnetic, dragging him along from whatever chore he was doing to follow behind patiently, getting more and more agitated.

See, Nanami has thought quite often about what he is, and isn’t. You forced him to think it over whenever he found his mind wandering back to you each time it had the chance, squeezing around his cock and whining out your dramatics into his mouth. In his imagination, he’s easy to wrap up into a neat bow. With a begrudgingly growing interest each time you landed on his couch, or trailed behind him like a puppy at work. It’s because of all that introspection that he decided he isn’t a good do-er. He does good, and he is perfectly adequate at doing it too. But he doesn’t do it for the praise of it.

Nanami isn’t a hero. He isn’t a vigilante.

He’s a simple guy with simple wants: you. So there’s only one reason that crystalizes in his mind as he finds himself walking a good distance behind this fucking loser that you’re blinking stars up at. It isn’t a noble one. Just that every fiber in him aches to grab the guy by the back of his neck and kick his head like a soccer ball. You wouldn’t like that much, but he still wants to do it.

You’re beaming and chattering along like you do at such a pace that you don’t even notice that he’s started to follow behind. Hell, you barely even acknowledge a passerby to move out of the way. You’re totally zoned in to your doe-eyed, little fantasies— even as the distance gets closer and closer, and he’s walking down the now familiar streets towards your apartment. And as much as he wants to blame you, he can't. Not really. It’s not like he didn’t know what a sweet little cheerleader you were when you were prancing around his office with the shortest skirts known to man and a coquettish blink of your long lashes. But it’s different when it’s some two-bit, middle aged non-sorcerer with a five o’clock shadow.

It’s different when it isn’t him. Even you must know that. You must feel it.

The sky’s darkening as your conversation goes from enthusiastic to clearly flirty, letting your giggle ring out down the lane— as he makes up the last bit of distance. The guy’s probably musty breath reaching you as he swings his arm over your shoulder, as he pulls you close. As he fills your head with all kinds of promises that he definitely won’t actually meet as soon as he gets your pretty hands around his cock. He knows it, and he knows that even your innocent, sweet personality would take a hit if that happened. You wouldn’t be able to perform well at work, and maybe even your relationship with Nanami would suffer if you got your heart broken.

There’s a very clear path before him that ends right where you’re walking up the steps towards your door, and those pretty lips form words he can’t focus on. He walks up to the door, and only now do you glance behind you and your pretty eyes go curiously wide at him. “Nanami?” You’re so fucking cute. But that stupid fucking arm around your shoulders is in his way. It blocks you from view, and ruins the sight. It’s a bother. There’s only the faintest hints of  jealousy and rage left in his veins - when he gives you a quick nod, then turns towards the guy who’s now got an awfully dumb expression on his face. It reminds him a little of a curse, blank and narrowed and disturbed. He feels eerily calm, really. It’s a simple problem with a simple solution, isn’t it.

“What are you doing here-” you start to say, before you stumble back.

Blood splatters all over, and with an awfully easy motion that stupid head rolls and drops to the floor. It’s quick, and there’s a few seconds where he waits for the resistance. The uncomfortable feeling of guilt. But it doesn’t come—

Until your shaky hand clutches almost painfully onto his shirt, pinching him. “H- Nanamin. What the hell do you think you’re doing? What did you-” You gasp, breaking off into a choked cry when your eyes take in the sight before you, before squeezing your eyes shut entirely and starting to shake harder. “What’s- why?! What did you do? Why did you do that?! I can’t- I can’t even- what- why?!”

You shove him aside, and his foot lands in the mess as you fumble sticking the key into the lock— too shaky to control your own extremities well. But your mouth still hasn’t stopped running. “Stay away! Go away! You’re- I- hick- I don’t wanna look!” You finally manage to get the key turned by the time the tears are making your cheeks entirely shiny, snot running and lip wobbly like a five year old— and sink down into a crouch to start sobbing it out into your arm. “You just killed a-an-” You can’t even make it halfway through without breaking out into another squeak. “F-for no reason. I invited him here- seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

Your face doesn’t come up again for breath until he grabs you by the arm to help you up, and you shove at him again, almost yelling this time. “No, no, no no no! Leave me alone!” This little scene you’re making is gonna attract attention, you know. “Leave me alone, I want to go in!” Before the situation can get out of hand, he pushes your door open enough to toss you inside, and the body after you. There’s a muffled little whimper from you when it lands with a thump on your floor. But as soon as he closes the door, the surge of adrenaline calms.

He just has to explain it to you, give him a minute.

“I don’t wanna- I don’t-”

For some reason, the entire situation winded him, and his beating heart bangs loudly in his chest. He drops his weapon aside and kicks off his shoes, and goes to you— where you’re cocooned in your own arms, knees to your chest. “Hey, it’s-”

“Leave me alone!” you squeak, knocking his hands away from you, only briefly looking up. “Go. Hck- go away!” You’re crying so much that your eyes are red and your cheeks puffy. But he still grabs you by your arms and hauls you up into his chest, ignoring the way you make yourself dead weight. Brat. He wants to say it, but he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t be too happy to hear it at this very moment. It’s not like he blames you. He’s always tried to shield you from the more gruesome parts of the occupation as much as possible. Of course you’d be upset. “Nanamin~” you whine.

“Shhh, just calm down. It’s all good now.” His heart still beats so loud. Maybe he was angrier than he first imagined. He carries you -much to your dismay, if your sniveling cries are anything to go off- out of the hall and into your bedroom. Where it smells of perfume and girly body lotion, and so overwhelmingly like you it takes him aback a little. You’re still crying, and still talking- but he does his best to drown it out in favor of explaining. See, he’s always been such a sucker for you. Swallowing down the slight rasp in his voice, he allows you to drop back into your bed, and looks down at you. You’re still pretty even with your eyes clenched closed, and crying like a baby. “There, ‘s okay.”

He runs his thumb along your eyes, then settles down next to you on the plush mattress. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Listen-”

“How can I -hck- listen?!” You’re quick to turn your face away from him, and wrap your arms around yourself a bit tighter— probably unaware of the distracting way you push up your tits that way in that little implication of a dress. Really, Nanami swallows, you can obviously do much better than that loser that’s probably staining your carpet at the entrance. Your lip wobbles again, before you suck it into your mouth. “I don’t know what- or how- but that isn’t okay, Nanamin. I just-”

So again, he tries to get your attention, this time by grabbing your arm. “Just listen. I did it for you- if this was anyone else I wouldn’t have been so pressed.” It’s true. No one is a priority like you are. “I had to.”

“What are you talking about? How- is killing someone- oh god, there’s a dead guy in my house, Nanamin! I don’t k- what am I gonna do? Why would you-”

“I’m trying to tell you something.” His voice is lower and sharper this time, and your eyes finally shoot open to look at him. But it isn't that adoring little look you normally have, and somehow that pisses him off too. You really need to have everything spelled out for you, huh. He loves you though, really, he genuinely, genuinely does. As more than just an equal— if he could, he’d give you everything. He just doesn’t know how to say it, staring back at the wobbly tears on your face. “I love you,” is what ends up coming out, and then a breath.

And he’d say more if you weren’t such a talker.

Your face goes a little distant for a few seconds, before you shake your head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I will tell you, if you just-”

“I can’t accept that, senpai! You can’t just go around and kill-”

“I was protecting you!”

“From what?!” Before you even give him a chance, a real one, you start righting yourself on the bed and run a hand under your nose. And you stare at him with such disbelief and broken trust that it makes him feel a little dizzy. He doesn’t know exactly how he imagined himself spilling his guts, but it wasn’t like this. “You need to leave. And I need to contact someone from the higher ups to- take care of- I don’t even know,” you sob, “I don’t know how any of this goes. That’s so messed up, Kento.” That’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his first name. Scolding him for a choice he made purely for you. He did this for you. “You need to-”

He can’t let the first time end this way.

“Stop talking.”

“Stop talking?” You echo back to him, and glare, also getting up off the bed and farther away from him— and he can’t help but follow. “What did you think was gonna happen? That I wasn’t going to say anything?” As he gets up with you, you walk back a step, and your eyes flick back and forth between him and the door a few times. But he chases, and you jump in surprise when your back meets the wall, effectively trapping you between the wall and him. “I- Nanami-”

“Kento.”

You barely blink as you take a sharp intake of air, and then hold your hands up to his chest to keep some space between you two. “Look- just- we can talk about this, but I can’t just ignore that there’s a dead body in my house, Kento.” He’s really sick of you talking. You’re lucky he loves your voice so much, because if it was anyone else, he wouldn’t stand for it. Whatever you see in his expression must have you worried, because that slight defiance that remains gets awfully feeble when he reaches for you this time. “You’re scaring me. Please, just- hck- just back up. Let me process this, and then we can talk.”

“No, all your talking just gets in the way.” Your eyes go wide and a wave of heat washes over your features, making you look even more attractive. If he can’t tell you, he’ll just show you. You’ve got it all fucking wrong. What he feels for you is true love. Before you can go on another mad ramble, he grabs you and drags you back to bed, as gently as he can while having his hand screwed tight around your wrist. He wouldn’t ever actually hurt you. As you land on the bed, he holds you down— watching as you open your mouth to talk. But you can’t, because he’s already shoved two fingers between your lips and feels the way your hot, wet tongue squirms as he pushes them down your throat. “There, that’s better.”

Still you’re trying to talk, it’s almost funny. You whine around his fingers and gag when you can’t, breathing his name into an uncomfortable moan that just turns him on. You try to pull your head away, but you can’t. “You’re a lot sweeter when you’re not running your mouth sometimes, baby.” He can’t help it, it just comes out. He likes you so much, and you just look so cute gagging on his fingers and grabbing his sleeve like you’re not sure whether or not to pull or push. Tears start welling up along your waterline when he runs his fingertips over your soft, pink tongue. And his cock twitches in his pants.

That’s the good part, see. Even with all this fighting, you two still get along so well. You make him a better man when he’s around you. At least, in theory. He’s not crazy, he knows that holding you down and making you choke on his fingers isn’t really the best course of action -but you left him no choice- and he’s better off finishing what he started. “If you shut up,” he draws his fingers out of your mouth to start unzipping his pants, “I’ll let you breathe. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you won’t want to talk again.” It’s all up to you, pretty girl. Simple cause and effect. You take one sharp breath as you try to get out from under his weight, but there’s really nowhere you can go.

So you do what you do best, and whine. “Nanami~” It’s a baby-ish little whimper that makes him name sound so fucking good. But still. He grabs your face to squish your cheeks, and stares down at you with such intensity that you keep your cries in.

“It’s Kento.” His voice is a low, soft rumble. He wonder if it gives away the way his body feels right now, standing above you while his cock strains against his pants. They’re getting too tight to be comfortable. “Or daddy- you like that better? Say it.” You shake your head into his grip -but your ears start glowing another color brighter, almost like he’s caught you in a lie. Of course you do. You and him are made to be together. You let out another little squeak before he lets go of you to start undoing his pants. 

That apparently seems to be too much, because suddenly you’re trying to get up as you speak. “No, no, I’m not-” You’re trapped when he forces you back down and now yanks your head back by your hair, making you cry again. “Ow, please senpai— I like you, I really do- but I can’t- I- hang on.” The heat crawls up his neck to his ears watching your eyes go big as the belt falls and his pants go down his thighs. You really do look good on your fucking knees.

“I told you to stop yapping, didn’t I?” He asks in return, and finishes sliding his boxers down, kicking them aside. Then he pulls your face towards his cock and watches as you whine. “Open up for daddy. There’s only one thing your mouth’s good for.” You’re so easy to hold in place, and it sends unimaginable gratification through his body when your little tongue comes out for him. You’re really such a brat, making everything so fucking hard for him. 

You open your mouth enough for him to start pushing inside at just the slightest yank of your hair, making you whine and whimper as you shuffle around between his legs. Your hands come to rest on his thighs, but that doesn’t hold him from sliding the hot head of his cock as far as he can into your mouth right away. You look amazing drooling all over his cock, choking when he starts to move with the most patient moves he can manage. It’s not easy to do much of anything except rock himself on your soft tongue and feel your whining go down his shaft and balls. “There, now you’re making yourself useful. That’s what you do best, hm, fucking brat?”

“Agh, fuck- that’s- such a soft little mouth.” You make him feel heavenly, and by the way you’re shifting down there on the floor -trying and failing to get the friction you want- you’re also feeling it. He can tell by the way you blink up at him so slow, swallowing around him and letting that pretty voice out in the cutest, little moans. Just for him. Only ever for him. “You’re so lucky you’re this fucking cute,” he ends up rasping out, before letting you finally pull back to breathe when you start jittering. “Say something smart again, brat.”

“Agh, daddy,” you sob, drool spilling down your chin, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He can tell you are. Your big eyes glossy and cheeks hot, you try to get up from the floor, and he yanks you up to turn you over instead. Your little dress rides up too easily, giving the rest of the way when he shoves it up your back. It’s almost embarrassing to see how wet you are, lacy panties soaked all the way through and peeled too easily aside to reveal that needy pussy. And you don’t even deny it, just shiver when he runs his finger up and down your slicked up cunt. “Please.”

He’s such a sucker for you, fuck. It’s almost like you know it. “My little cock slut, look at that. You’re dripping down your thighs, brat.” He spits on your center once before lining up and sliding in, and watching as your little pussy stretches around his cock with some effort— as you let out a lewd, almost desperate whine. “Fuck.” And Nanami hoists himself over you to start fucking into you, hips meeting your ass as he bottoms out, as you open your legs further to let him in. Your back half hangs pathetically over the end of the bed as he fucks into your tight, hot -so fucking hot and wet and beaming- pussy and his balls clap against you. You feel so good it’s hard to hear anything over his own heartbeat hammering wildly against his ribs.

“Daddy feel good inside?”

“Mhm, agh-yea.”

You too, baby. Nothing in the world feels as good as letting your pussy swallow and suck him in deeper, like you’re trying to hold him in that impossibly hot, blissful clutch forever. He can’t even hear much of your whining and moaning and pitiful struggle, but you probably haven’t stopped. You don’t even have the energy to close your mouth, trying to push back to meet his thrusts more even as he bumps against the end of your pussy— and his one hand is squeezed around your neck. But you look pretty this way. You look useful.

“Tell me how much you like me.”“So~ much, so much, fuck. I’m gonna cum, Kento. Daddy.” Your mouth’s still running when he snakes his hand underneath you to start rubbing at your puffy clit, and feels the way his own body starts to tighten when your walls clench wildly around him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I want you to cum too, want to feel it- I wanna have you deep inside me forever, ah, ah. Oh, you feel so good, fuck.” It’s almost ironic when he thinks about it. How much he likes you running your mouth like this, begging for more. It’s poetic.

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#nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #tw.noncon #tw.murder #tw.blood #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.nanami

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Deborah Kerr (Bonjour Tristesse, An Affair to Remember, The King and I)— For several decades she held the record for most Oscar nominations without a win (6 in total), and she was a prolific leading lady throughout the 40s and 50s. She's best known today for the romance An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant, and as the governess in The King and I. Many people have this erroneous perception of her as extremely prim, proper, and virginal, but this could not be further from the truth. When she first came to Hollywood under MGM she was typecast into boring decorative roles, but broke sexual boundaries for herself and Hollywood generally in From Here to Eternity, when she made out (horizontally!) with Burt Lancaster (on top of him!) in the famous Beach Scene. She went on to play many sexually conflicted women, a character type that would define most of her post- Eternity work. She continued to break Hays Code boundaries with Tea and Sympathy, which addresses homosexuality/homophobia head-on, and even did a topless scene in The Gypsy Moths 1969!! One of the only classic stars to do so. She deserves a more nuanced and frankly a hotter legacy than she currently has!!!

Ethel Merman (Anything Goes, Call Me Madam)— Possessed of a bold, brash voice, and an even bolder and brasher presence, Ethel Merman might be more well known for her stage roles, but she made several movies, and was bold and brash in them as well. Also I think if I don't submit her, she's going to come back and haunt me.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Ethel Merman:

You've gotta love any woman who got typecast as lead-MILF

Deborah Kerr:

I think she was one of my first crushes before I realised I was bi in The King and I when I watched it as a kid honestly. The kissing scene in From Here to Eternity is iconic for a reason. Actually tried to learn the accents for the characters she was playing if they weren't English which is more than pretty much anyone else was doing then. Played very restrained characters who frequently seemed to be desperate not to be so restrained. Did horror movies without venturing into hagsploitation tropes. Gave Marni Nixon the credit she deserved for her share of the singing in The King and I.

Anne Larsen is a peak late 1950s bisexual with big MILF energy. Have you seen the behind the scenes pics of her wearing a suit?? Have you????? Vote Deb as Anne Larsen.

Nominated for an Oscar six (6) times and never won, but besides her having actual talent (hot), and besides her looking Like That (very hot, also beautiful), she was always playing women who are, like, crazy repressed. Which makes it fun and easy for me to read these characters as queer. Icon!!!! You know what's hot? Playing ambiguously gay in vintage Hollywood.

Her face and talent and body, yes, ofc, duh. But also!!! Her HANDS!!!! I may be but a simple lesbian, but she is the best hactor (hand actor) that ever lived and that's HOT! For propriety's sake I feel I must redact a large portion of my commentary on this subject. Anyway. She's hot in her most famous roles (mentioned above), and also some of her sexiest hacting is on display in An Affair to Remember (her hand on the bannister when Cary Grant kisses her off-screen??? HELLO???), Tea and Sympathy (when she's trying to persuade Tom not to go out and she keeps flexing her hands like she wants to reach out to him but can't??? ALLY BEHAVIOR! WE STAN!), and The Innocents (which opens and closes with extended shots of her hands bc director Jack Clayton was also an ally and he did that for ME). Much of her appeal also lies in the fact that she often played deeply repressed characters and you know what's hot? When those uptight characters finally unravel. It's sexy. It's cathartic. It's erotic. Plus, she's beautiful to look at in both black & white and technicolor, and the more of her films you see, the more you can't help but fall in love!

Literally is in thee most famously sexy scene of all time (or maybe just during the hays code era which is what we're talking about HELLO), which is the beach scene with Burt Lancaster in from here to eternity. To quote a tumblr post of a screen capture of a tweet of a video of joy behar on the view: "y'know, there used to be movies where they were kissing on the beach... From Here to Eternity. They're kissing-- Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr are Kissing on the Beach and then the WAVES crash!! You know exactly what they did!"

She might have a reputation of being chaste and virginal or whatever, but we all know it's the quiet ones who are certifiable FREAKS

#ethel merman #deborah kerr #hotvintagepoll #ladies 1 #fuck that old woman

[hanafubukki]

I Suddenly Became the Mother of the Red-Rose Tyrant?!

Summary: Well, fuck, somehow you isekaied and became the mother of Riddle Rosehearts

Characters: Riddle Roshearts, Reader, & Clover Family.

Notes: I have been reading way too many isekai Manhwas/Mangas. Not only that, but I saw a fanart of little Riddle and his mom and was inspired right away. This is a long fic, it’s been awhile since I wrote something so long so I am proud. 💕🥰💜

·      When you had opened your eyes one day, you had woken up in a bedroom that definitely wasn’t yours.

·      The room was…meticulous, and that was putting it lightly.

·      Even your bed, while comfy, had a feeling of order to it; daring anyone to mess it up.

·      You should probably be more anxious over your new surroundings but waking up well rested in a while just mellowed you out.

·      That is until you got up and looked at a mirror, finally seeing the truth of the matter.

·      Well, fuck, you really did isekai to another world.

·      Maybe reading all those manhwas and mangas were not a good idea.

·      You glance at the mirror one more time and this time your appearance caught and held your attention.

·      You reached up and pulled at your…bangs.

·      They looked to form two heart shapes.

·      It was kind of cute.

·      The person whose body you had, well, she looked tired and stressed.

·      Lady, you need to relax once in a blue moon.

·      Wait…a minute, no, no, no. Heart shaped bangs? The only character you knew that had heart shaped bangs were...

·      “Mother?”

·      You turned around and right at your door, dressed prim and proper, was a tiny Riddle Rosehearts.

·      Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

·      You were isekaid into Mrs. Rosehearts.

·      After you had gotten your bearings, you had told Riddle to go study and you would prepare him food. He had simply nodded and did as you asked. No protest against studying so early in the morning or any mention of hunger. You knew his past, of course you did, but seeing it firsthand was another experience all together. Seeing his response to the request you made? It burdened your heart even more.

·      As you made his breakfast, you had some time to yourself which you used to sort out your situation and feelings. Your memories before coming to Twisted Wonderland were still intact; you just didn’t remember how you ended up in this world, let alone in Mrs. Rosehearts body.

·      Of whom, her memories you had full access to as well. it was as if you lived two lives together. If it wasn’t for little Riddle in the next room, you would be tearing your hair out because, of course, you would be in this situation.

·      Looking through her memories, you can see why Mrs. Rosehearts had turned out the way she did. Generational trauma and unrealistic expectations seemed to run in the family. Which in turn led to her actions towards Riddle, and of which, led to Mr. Rosehearts walking out of their lives. He didn’t even fight for custody of his own child, the influence of Mrs. Rosehearts being too great.

·      Generation trauma that you could have prevented from continuing, Mrs. Rosehearts, but now it’s up to me.

·      You ended up taking a tray of food to little Riddle, with enough food that a child his age would eat and then some. At least with these memories retained, you also knew everything Mrs. Rosehearts did, and unlike the MC in Twisted Wonderland, you also had her powers as well. Which, given the game’s events, would come in handy in the future.

·      Right now though, as you opened the door to the study, you would do your best to raise your son right and well-loved.

·      One of the first changes you made was decreasing his study time and allowing him the chance to play.

·      It didn’t go as well as you expected…Riddle had frozen and started shaking to your horror. Mumbling about doing better and how he could handle extra studies if you wished it of him. You had a feeling that he thought it was to test him and his dedication.

·      You had to calm him down and prove otherwise.

·      Giving him a dedicated set time to study, and just as much time to play. You would even join him. Drawing with him, putting together puzzles, and even playing in the backyard. You had even gone out and bought him a ball that you two threw at each other.

·      What warmed your heart the most was when you baked him a strawberry tart and gave it to him with a warm glass of milk. Your tart wasn’t the best with the crust crumbling, and you should have probably let it cool a bit more, but the shining eyes and wide smile from Riddle was more than worth it.

·      You patted him on the head as he scooped another piece into his mouth.

·      You loved your son.

·      The next step in providing a healthy lifestyle for Riddle was making sure he had friends.

·      Which meant, you had to repair the relationship Riddle had with Trey and Che’nya.

·      It wasn’t easy, especially having to muster up the courage to look into Trey’s parents’ eyes and apologize for actions you did not commit.

·      But you were determined to give Riddle a good childhood and that meant him having friends his age and hopefully lowering his chances of overblotting in the future.

·      Riddle was quiet on the day you both went to the Clover’s bakery.

·      But you took a deep breath and patted him on the head.

·      “Everything will be alright, sweetheart.”

·      Riddle didn’t say anything and just nodded.

·      You had chosen to meet Trey’s parents at closing time, and you had given them a call ahead of time.

·      When you met them, you could tell they were nervous and bracing themselves.

·      Little Trey looked ready for a fight.

·      You had to hold your smile in.

·      You ended up bowing to them and apologizing, which you could tell freaked them all out.

·      Riddle was surprised and grasped at your dress, worried.

·      “I am very sorry for the way I treated you all before. I know my words might not make up for my past actions, but I do hope you will forgive me in time.”

·      Mr. and Mrs. Clover looked at each other before tentatively accepting your apology.

·      “Mrs. Rosehearts, might we ask why the sudden change.”

·      It was Mrs. Clover who had spoken up.

·      You smiled and put a hand on your son’s head.

·      “I have been trying to raise Riddle the only way I knew how. I had let my past and expectations I have lived through blind me. I realized that was wrong, and I want to change that. I want my son to be happy and loved like he deserves.”

·      The Trey family seemed to relax after hearing your reasoning, but you could tell they were still on guard.

·      You didn’t blame them, but you hope in time, they will trust your words.

·      You crouched down to Riddle’s level, looking at him with a gentle look.

·      “I want to show my little one that adults can be wrong, and they can change. I want to show him that I love him, and I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I love you and I hope you can forgive me too.”

·      Little Riddle was trembling, and tears were dripping down his face.

·      You opened your arms before he rushed into you with all the force his little body can muster.

·      You hugged him just as tight, holding your own tears in.

·      You got up with Riddle in your arms, rubbing his back as he cried and clutched on you tighter.

·      You bowed your head to the Clover family once again before looking at Trey.

·      “I hope you, you other friend, and Riddle can be good friends.”

·      Trey looked a bit nervous before nodding slowly.

·      You thanked them before returning home.

·      Humming a song to little Riddle and kissing his head.

·      You were determined.

·      You would make sure Riddle Rosehearts grew up loved and happy.

·      And as thoughts of the Twisted Wonderland plot came into mind.

·      You would make sure he was safe.

How did you all like it? Would love to hear your thoughts 💕☺️

Tag List (open): @justeclem44​ @coraldelusiondaze​n @h0n3ysgh0st​ @thatdazaikin​ @strawberry-pie-thoughts​

#riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x y/n #disney twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twisted wonderland x you #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland headcanon #twst imagines #twst #x reader #gender neutral #trey clover #twst trey clover

[ratboyy-withtheexistentialdread]

Nevermore Chapter 97

Spoilers ahead, lads. Skedaddle if you don't fast pass. EDIT I guess I’ve said too much in this post and need to pull it back a little. So imma gonna edit it so it doesn’t say too much about this chapter.

Alright, first my reaction cause HOLY HELL those last few panels really got me like

I really had to put my phone down and talk myself through them. Now, lets talk about what I gained from this chapter and the infamous Annabel Lee. I've noticed, at least in the comment section, the fandom really doesn't care for Annabel's character and its difficult to know where the animosity has come from. Tumblr obviously loves her but us heathens support women's rights and wrongs (Don't we gents?) Many call her a sociopath or what’s happens in the last few panels. Annabel is indeed ruthless, calculating and stone cold but she obviously cares. She cares for Lenore above everything. It can be easy to see this as obsession as we really haven't seen her care about much else or even herself. But one comment on the Webtoon brought up a very valid point which I've also picked up on.

Annabel and Lenore in life were very isolated and broken people when they met one another. Annabel, broken and then rebuilt into a prim and proper lady. Lenore, broken physically and mentally and closed off from the world.

Meeting each other saved them. They were no longer alone. There was an understanding between them at least that we know of.

Their differences though is what divides them in death.

Annabel played games, and masked her true self around her father and family connections. She now makes games of situations to retain what little control she had in life over a society she knew she could never break the rules of. A Game that was always rigged against her.

Lenore rebelled against society. She fled the estate to escape a suitor, was bound to the attic and ostracized by her family, she then faked her death and posed as man to court Annabel, the one person who cared for her.

Lenore wants to break the rules of the deans Death Game. Annabel wants to follow them.

It’s all they’ve ever known.

Before it was only them that mattered. Now Lenore has so much more to fight for and Annabel still only has Lenore. Both are right in their own way of playing the game but it pains the other to witness.

Annabel, I’m sure is aware that the Deans are not all they seem to be and won’t simply allow the students to turn the tables on them if they played how Lenore wants to.

And playing Annabel’s way means the callous death of many many people that do deserve another chance at life.

Now. I do have to agree with Annabel in the sense that Lenore forgets

This is a Death Game

Right now the “villainous” characters show their true face with pride and the “hero’s” are charming and true but as we get down to the wire, it’s going to get grey. There are no good or bad at the end of these games, only survival.

Could Annabel show some restraint and more tact when speaking strategy and making plans with Lenore? Absolutely. She’s little too giddy about sweeping some pieces off the board.

Lenore also needs to stop being so naive. She saw first hand what exactly the Deans are capable of in Dreamland, it put the fear of god in her.

In fairness to both characters though they and we are still missing big pieces of what happened between them and what their causes of death were. Which could hold big aspects of their characterization.

Maybe Lenore was originally very callous about others. In life, aside from Theo and Annabel, we’ve never really seen her interact with others. Perhaps this is the Lenore Annabel speaks of.

Anyway, I’m rambling. In conclusion, I’m a bit disappointed in Nevermores comment section. I enjoy Annabel’s character although some parts do worry me a bit but I have hope Red and Flynn have plans to curve this to a satisfying reason and conclusion.

That cliffhanger, boy howdy, what the fuck is Lenore gonna do…

#nevermore webtoon #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #white raven #duke #Pluto #nevermore webcomic #nevermore WEBTOON spoilers

[zgvlt]

hearts held out of harms way ace trappola x reader x deuce spade (polycule)

commissioned by: shopkeep !!!

summary: in which (1) ace, a nobleman, desperately wants to be more than just the earl you and deuce serve; (2) deuce, a knight, doesn't how to get not just one but two people to fall in love with him; and (3) you, a fairy, try to push ace and deuce together while ignoring your own feelings for them

tags: gender neutral reader (only you is used), sfw, fluff, knight x nobility x fairy, commoner x nobility, poly relationship, getting together fic, 8.3k+ words, not beta read, completed (division by "chapters" = just a stylistic choice)

The young Lord Ace Trappola was a nobleman people found difficulty understanding. The new earl—and how new he truly was; how unexpected, too—was many things all at once and, depending on who was asked, they would all have something different to say in regards to the gentleman.

For instance, some would say he was no gentleman at all—some being a past love, who claimed she had never really felt his love for her at all. It was not too uncommon for nobles to abandon their old partner one way or another, but it did dishearten those in society seeking to become his marriage candidate.

Others, specifically his old schoolmates from the academy, would call him clever and cheery but a little too carefree, so much so that they were surprised he had been declared not just the heir, but had taken hold of the position the moment he left his youth. Was it the truth, that he was that kind of character? Yes, though it did give way to less than savory questions regarding his inexperience and capabilities.

Finally, though said noble would not know until later how the rumor had been birthed, it was said that he was a man who had deceived everyone magnificently into thinking he was who he presented himself to the public. As to who or what he truly was, nobody could quite agree. There were those that argued he was the manipulative sort, perhaps one who dabbled in illegal magic, for how else could he ascend to his position so quickly? There were those, too, who had proposed that perhaps their household had something to hide, that the young Trappola was simply a dutiful son to his father.

A small, terribly small group, however, would argue that the truth behind Ace Trappola was that he…

“Good morning My Lord!” Ace looked up from his desk, immediately abandoning his work. It’s not that he’s particularly excited or anything, but he sure does think that his two faithful attendants are far more fun than any scroll or sheet of paper could be.

Former delinquent turned knight, his right-hand man Deuce Spade had a serious look on his face despite the jolly greeting. Beside him was you, his right-hand’s right-hand, a fairy who greeted him in a calm but elegant manner. The juxtaposition between his two aides had surprised him once-upon-a-time, but he’d come to realize that they were far better suited to each other than he had initially realized.

“Lock the doors, then be at ease,” he ordered. Though he did not care much for appearing particularly prim or proper, the idea of being walked in on while he conversed with his two companions did not appeal to him either.

“Slacking again, Lord Trappola?” You peered over his shoulder, reading the documents he had atop his table. “Household affairs? New knightings? Isn’t that mere child’s play for you? You could very likely finish all of those in one go.”

“If I accomplish all of it in one sitting, they will think it a sign to pile more work for me the day after,” he explained, as though it were common sense. “It’s better to slack off a little bit sometimes. I understand I’m quite capable, but I detest people who push all their work onto others.”

“There, there. You can let your worries out with me,” you laughed at him, fingers combing through his unkempt hair as you did so. It was an action he always distinguished from his father and brother, who would purposefully ruffle it, or Deuce, who accidentally chopped a portion off with his sword. 

He used to think it was out of pity, once, or some kind of disapproval, the way you could bicker and banter with Deuce but hesitated to do the same with him. However, nowadays it was easy to tell that it was your way of empathizing with him. That good-naturedness of yours was probably why Deuce clung to you, too. “Let’s have you spar with Deuce so you can catch a break.”

“Exactly what I was thinking! Can you read minds or something? You know I don’t know much about fairies.”

“You just so happen to be an open book, Deuce. If I had come to possess that kind of ability, though…” Ace knew you were merely being humorous, an attempt at getting a laugh out of him and a way to tease Deuce, but he did shiver the slightest bit as you laughed ominously. Just what would you do given that kind of power? “Though not quite fairy, I have heard of a fae that can see people’s dreams… Or was it manipulate? I can’t quite recall.” 

“If someone were to see my dreams…” Deuce blanched, and Ace found himself curious by the reaction. By the looks of it, you were curious, too. Ace’s dreams tended to be the nonsensical sort—that or he could never remember them at all save for a detail or two, like how you or Deuce or even some old schoolmates from the academy would simply appear. 

“Now that you mention it, I do remember you sleep talking.” You looked away from Deuce and back to him, fingers still weaving through his hair. “There was a night, when Deuce and I were still wanderers, where…”

Cruel, Ace thought to himself, smiling, the good-natured fairy could tease the poor knight again and again. 

“You truly are incapable of not embarrassing me at every opportunity, especially in front of our liege,” the blue haired man huffed, though he hardly seemed frustrated. On the contrary, his gaze had gone through a fiery change, as though engaged in a new competition. “If we are to compare sleeping habits, then yours–”

“Are not as worse, I am certain.” In truth, Ace was unsure if you were being truthful, but that aside–

“Oho, feel free to argue and spill your deepest secrets in front of me~ Although…” he feigned a sigh, “did the two of you forget my presence? Or that I know nothing of either of your sleeping patterns?” Or that it was considered inappropriate to so much as discuss nighttime activities, no matter how innocent? Ace could not say he was against it, however, having always been less… traditional, he supposed.

At his words, neither you nor Deuce had the decency to be embarrassed, though the latter made a genuine attempt at appearing to be. Clearly he had done a good job of keeping things as casual and comfortable as possible, even with the imbalance of power. That he could not erase, but at the very least he would feel much better if it could be ignored.

“Ahem, so are you up for it, Ace? The sparring? It could be good practice for the upcoming tournament.” Deuce had been leaning against the door as he said it, but he jolted up as he’d come to realize his informality. “Or, uh, Lord Ace? No, should it be Lord Trappola?”

Never mind. Perhaps some work still needed to be done, after all.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ace said quickly, hoping to elucidate the matter. The previous topic had not been forgotten, but perhaps he would be able to bring the matter up at a different time. “It’s just the three of us right now. Isn’t it exhausting being so formal all the time?”

“I guess that’s fair,” Deuce replied, “although I have a feeling I’ll call you the wrong thing in public.”

“Mhm, it’s the same for me, which is why I’m avoiding forgoing the title,” you sighed, “we’d cause quite the scandal if we so much as fumble–”

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter!” Ace snorted, “What do they care? You’re my people, so if they have a problem with how I let the two of you address me, then they should bring it up with the Earl of Trappola himself!”

For the most part, he had been serious with his proclamation—the formalities were starting to get to him, and he’d prefer to maintain Deuce’s casualness with him; has been meaning to convert you into dropping the titles, too. However, the way Deuce blinked up at him and the way you began clapping made it feel as though he had put on some performance instead, a rare show of his nobility.

“Our Lord… is a noble too, after all,” Deuce said with disbelief—Ace thought it to be feigned, though a small part of him wondered if it was genuine. You followed suit with a slow nod of your head. 

“We made the right choice of pledging our loyalty to him after all.”

“Hah?” Ace scratched his head, inevitably messing with what you had worked to fix. “Seriously, would the me of the past have guessed the two outsiders I brought into my estate would become the bane of my existence?”

He had said as much, though he knew—and he knew that his two attendants knew, too—that no regrets had been brought in with said decision.

Deuce Spade enjoyed the life he was currently living.

It was a stark contrast to the life he possessed back home, his troublesome ways before he stowed away on that boat, before he crossed paths with you in that forest, before the two of you somehow wound up in the Trappola estate.

It was a tough life and he had ways to go before he could show his face to his mother, but it was a life he could finally be proud of, a life that was his.

Which was why he trained intensively and persistently, the need to prove his resolve not simply to the world, but to the people who he cherished in that world—the parent who awaited his letters every week, whom he lived for, and the two he swore to protect, whom he would lay down his life for… 

But he knew you would be angered to hear such a bold statement, and the noble he was guarding would ask how he grew to become so serious, so he supposed he would have to keep his perspective a secret.

He thanked the Queen and whatever deities there were up there that you could not read minds, or see dreams for that matter. How troubling would it have been for him if you knew how his affections had grown for you and for–

“Oh, is that for Ace?” 

Though he supposed you already knew of that, thus he only had his feelings for you being leaked to be worried about. Not that he was not worried about his feelings for Ace being made known—both, both were cause of worry. The mere idea of him being fond of two people should have been troubling, what more that one was his close companion and the other his liege?!

“Ace? Is that right?” he said with a stifled chuckle, “Were you not the one who wanted to address him properly?”

“What could you possibly mean? I could never! Well, if you pretend you did not hear my informality, that is.” Stepping closer and fully entering his quarters, you peered over his shoulder, eyeing the soft fabric carefully. You prodded a finger at the handkerchief, tracing his attempt at embroidery. “You have gotten better! The heart is cute.”

“Only in the front. You should see how badly I fumbled the back,” he said, showing you the messy stitching himself. Still, he knew progress was progress, and he gleamed at you having taken notice of his hard work. “Whoever could have guessed that years of watching my mother stitch my clothes back together would be of use for this very reason?”

“I’m sure she would be proud to see your work so far.” 

Genuine. That was always something he enjoyed about you—genuine in your actions, genuine in your words. Thinking about it, it was somewhat humorous that he had come to like Ace Trappola too despite his selective dishonesty. He supposed, at the end of the day, it had to do with his honed ability to detect those with immoral intentions, the inherent lack of such within the two of you.

Surrounded by people who were good to him, he often found himself thinking he could finally be on the right path—the path of becoming someone good for his mother.

“It might be nice to have one sent to her as well, though not yet,” Deuce replied sheepishly, “even though I worked hard on this one, it seems practice is still needed on my end.” 

“I believe in you. What is a needle if not a small sword? What are stitches if not… hmm… different techniques using the needle, just as stances and movements are to battle?” Even you seemed unsure about the last analogy. Nevertheless, it had made Deuce laugh, your intentions in uplifting his spirits effective as always.

“More like things you must get after a battle,” he retorted, shaking his head. “Given the topic, it should be appropriate to ask… How’s your progress?”

“Progress with…?”

“Your token!” he reminded, finding you silly for forgetting. “You’ve chosen to craft an amulet, right?”

“I did say that, yes. It seemed fitting given magic is my specialty, even though handkerchiefs and ribbons seem to be the norm in society these days. I’ve yet to review the rules, though, so perhaps no spells can be imbued yet,” you sighed, “So should I give something, an amulet or some kind of  charm would be good.”

By now, he could say he knew you rather well, and he knew that while you did your best to be truthful with him, you did not exactly shy away from allowing people to interpret your words differently. Sometimes, you seem to want to be misunderstood. 

It’s just too bad that he caught and understood your choice of wording.

“What do you mean by should you?  Did we not agree we were both giving Ace something?”

You shrugged. “Would it not be better if, oh, perhaps you were the only one to give him a gift?”

“But we both care for him as our liege and as his… friends? Companions? Whatever the appropriate term may be, we are that to him and he is that to us. Certainly he would appreciate getting something from you?” he reasoned, an attempt at convincing you to continue as planned.

“Yes, but you like him. I am able to give him a token at some other time surely, but for now… I don’t see how my giving him anything will aid in my mission to help you convey your feelings–oh don’t look at me like that, fine, your appreciation for him.”

He huffed out your name, willing to argue with you about the situation if he really needed to, but after staring you down the best he could whilst looking up at you, you eventually relented, as though carrying a soft spot for him, or for Ace. 

Likelihood was that it was both.

“I will consider it, but don’t mention anything. In any case, since I’m banned from competing due to the humans-only stipulation, hmph, I’ll give you a token. Since you’ll be competing for the both of us.”

Deuce finally smiled. He would still try to make sure you handed Ace one as well, but for now he would pretend to be satisfied with his small victory.

“If–When I win, I’ll make sure Ace knows it’ll be on both of our behalves.”

You cannot stop yourself from smiling as well. “Have I ever told you I was thankful? That you are always trying to include me in things, even with matters in regards to Ace? Even when I’m not actually one of his knights?”

It’s because I like you too, you foolish fairy! 

“Because you are our resident fairy and perhaps the best magic user in the estate,” he proclaimed. Always the first to tease you, always the first to praise you.

“Well if you put it that way,” you chuckled, “and since you are being so terribly kind to me today, I’ll put in the effort to defend you should the young lord throw a fit about his own knight beating him in the tournament… and of course, I shall comfort you should you throw a fit should you lose to him.”

“So win or lose, it will be a lose-lose situation. Absolutely wonderful!” He had only been joking, truly, but you gave him a slight nudge at the comment. 

“Just do your best regardless!” 

You laughed, a warmth not unlike the sunlight peeking from the woodlands the day he first met you. 

“Besides, you have a goal when you win, don’t you?” 

Momentarily bashful, determination soon replaced it. Fears and anxieties aside, Deuce knew that should he win, the adrenaline would certainly convince him to profess his adoration and devotion to their earl and, unbeknownst to you, their fairy.

“A confession.”

“Oh, for sure, but that should only be the first step!” you encouraged, always the first to aid him in his lofty ambitions. “Have you considered marriage? Or a grand trip to another nation? I heard the Sunset Savanna is lovely this time of year.”

He snorted, “Perhaps nobility move faster than us commoners, but I find a proposal would be too sudden even for human standards. However… A trip does sound nice.”

“Does it not? Ah, but should you go about one in the future, I’ll lock you both out of the manor if you fail to bring me a souvenir.”

“I cannot speak for Ace, but… Oh, I might as well—Ace will certainly lock you out of the manor should you refuse to come with us!” 

“You shall be there to help me back inside.”

“Wrong! As a matter of fact, I will be present to drag you in the carriage with us.” He was being quite serious, but you laughed at his apparent persistence. 

“All three of us stuck in a carriage, perhaps even a boat or two, for weeks,” you were groaning with feigned displeasure, but when you told him it’d likely be good fun, he could tell even you couldn’t lie to yourself there, that you enjoyed their company as much as he, and to speak for someone else, and Ace did.

But as much as he enjoyed having you around, he also knew that with you being in his room, any more progress for the day was pretty much impossible. Ace’s aside, he’s going to have a hard time starting on your handkerchief anytime soon if you’re going to remain a frequent visitor.

Ace knew he carried a certain attitude about the work assigned to him. He knew, despite the loyalty of those in his estate, his detractors would call him all sorts of insults, deprecate him and his character, see him as nothing more than a young man who cared not for aged tradition and stiff nobility, and had no ability to command and control his territory. 

Ability aside, he simply never cared to accomplish them immediately as opposed to pacing them according to his tastes. 

Thus, he would do as he wished, just as his ancestors would’ve before him. After all, would his family have become, and stayed for that matter, nobles if they had continued to abide by what was expected? 

If anything, would it not be expected of him to differ from the rest of them? A smart person would, he believed.

Which was why he found himself in the markets again, not bothering to put on any sort of disguise. He grew up visiting the nearby towns anyway, with some of the vendors having practically raised him since childhood, so really, what was the point?

“I’m still not convinced this is the best idea,” Deuce sighed, following him a little too far for his liking, “not that my opinion should matter. What you say goes, Lord Ace!”

“You have gotten comfortable enough with me to complain about the tasks I give you, but not comfortable enough to walk a centimeter closer or call me by my given name alone,” Ace teased, putting on a show of scolding his knight. “Your perception of what is more egregious between the three astounds me.”

“It is one thing for you to be alright with it, it is another for the prying ears to be. If it were only up to me, I would talk quite informally to you, too.” Ace need not question who too was referring to, for there was only one other person in the estate Deuce relied on to the extent of comfort: you.

“And I’ve let you change the subject… Really, what will happen if an assassin, or someone who wants to cause you harm, comes across you in broad daylight?”

“Then you’ll deal with them! Although… I may be able to protect myself better than you, hmm?” he laughed, shaking his head at the slight irritation Deuce attempted to hide. He could not get back at him now, but Ace was sure Deuce would attempt to do so the next time they were on the training grounds. “And perhaps I wished to change the subject of our conversation.”

“To?”

“You, perhaps. Our one and only fairy as well, possibly.” 

Except, despite his wording, he was positively assured of his choices. Discussing the two of them—well, the three of you, was always a difficult affair when you were around, and Ace is not dense enough to not detect your affection and yet avoidance of him, the scheming nature you seem to possess and yet hold back in front of him but fully show towards Deuce.

He never needed a companion during his trips out, sometimes preferred not to have one, so perhaps his invitation carried impure intentions. 

Deuce stiffened and though he tried to pass it off as a simple response to his surroundings, Ace knew better. What could have rendered such a reaction? Was it a secret you, or him, or the both of you together, were hiding? Was it something he ought not to know but would undoubtedly weed out right this second?

“What could you possibly want to know?” his knight inquired, seemingly nervous around him. How uncharacteristic. 

“A few things. For starters… There’s something wrong.”

“With what?”

Your name left Ace’s lips. Even to his ears it sounded a bit awkward, like he knew how to say it but barely uttered it outside of his head, at least compared to how Deuce would say it—undoubtedly familiar with you in a way he, too, wanted to be. It’s only then that Ace realized his hypocrisy… or, if hypocrisy was too strong a description, then the humor with the two of you.

His insistence at being just Ace and not Earl Ace or Lord Trappola, yet his persistence in calling you their fairy, their magician. 

Maybe it’s the need to remind himself that you’re one of his people, too, without having to commit to actually saying it. Maybe it’s his way of letting you know of your presence in his life, considering you always seemed so insistent on downplaying your importance to him and, if his eyes are working as clearly as he thinks, to Deuce as well.

Really, did you think he played favorites? Because he did, obviously, but the plurality implied he certainly had more than one! For such a scheming being, were you not oddly dense?

“I see…” Deuce muttered. With a hint of embarrassment, Ace figured the knight actually understood, if not completely then partially, his troubles when it came to you. “What could I… Is there any way for me to help?”

Cute. He’d rather gouge his eyes out than admit he thinks it unironically, but he still remembers the rascal that appeared in front of his manor, all roughed up with a scary but determined look on his face. Seeing Deuce be so thoughtful and kind when it comes to both him and you is just plain nice—the heavens know the world needs more people like that around him… and in noble society in general, but he’d rather not share with them.

“Help?”

“With, you know… I could give you advice, or–”

Ace sighed. Speaking of dense… Is there even a good way to say, ‘If the two of you haven’t noticed, I have a severe, desperate need to infiltrate and be a part of whatever it is the two of you have’ without being perceived as rude, or worse, a complete nutter.

Not being able to think of anything, he reluctantly changed the subject.

“Let’s go look around the market. Help the local economy! Purchase a few things for ourselves.”

The man next to him narrowed his eyes, and for a moment Ace genuinely worried that Deuce realized everything. Sure, he mocked the two of you in his head for not understanding him, but he certainly was not ready to reveal anything! Especially without any assurance from either involved party!

The knight did not utter another word for a while, simply guiding him through the stalls, prattling about things you enjoyed. Alongside him, the earl absorbed every piece of information, all the while watching whatever it was the Deuce’s eyes landed on for more than a few seconds.

Ace, whether he was aware of it or not, harbored feelings for you, Deuce was sure of it. He had his assumptions beforehand, mostly due to his increasing number of delusions of all three of you. In any case, there was no doubt in his mind now—he was not alone in harboring feelings for you.

On one hand, he could not blame Ace. You were, for all intents and purposes, his first friend, a cherished friend, thus he understood how the earl could fall for you. If anything, he’s going as far as applauding the choice. If anyone deserves love and adoration, of course it should be you! 

On the other hand, he’s reminded of his own troubles. If Ace is troubled with getting you to be more comfortable and closer to him, Deuce is troubled with getting not one, but two people to miraculously like him in the same manner he does. Meanwhile, Deuce can’t even tell if you like either one of them that way! It’s just a mess, truthfully, one he cannot speak of lest all three of you end up in a scandal, so he can do nothing but keep quiet…

Alright, perhaps that was not entirely true. There was something he could do.

“That’s a nice color,” Deuce commented. He can’t really differentiate the stones when they’re all round and smoothed out so he’s not sure if you’re holding a jasper or a carnelian (names he knows only because you had a knack for buying all sorts of stones) or something else entirely, but it’s this blend of orange and red and he knew it was chosen for a reason.

You smiled at him fondly, knowingly, “I’m not surprised you like the color. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re already aware of what I think.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop with the teasing.” You abide by your word, dropping your stare so you could focus on the task at hand—creating an amulet for Ace. “It can’t be helped that I cannot resist either one of you.”

“Then don’t! Did either of us ever imply that you should do as such?” he huffed, “I know for certain that Ace—”

“That I would what, exactly?”

As though caught in the midst of an immoral act, Deuce scrambled to hide everything as quickly as possible for you, shoving the stone in the nearest box he could open. Meanwhile, you were left to face Ace, who made no show of being even the slightest bit apologetic for his intrusion.

“Aren’t nobles meant to have perfect etiquette?” Were you smiling? Yes. Did you look amused? Not particularly. “I’m always happy to see you, Ace, but I can’t say for certain that I appreciate your storming in my quarters without so much as a knock on the door.”

“You don’t look particularly happy right now.” Ace, by contrast, looked particularly happy at your slip up, and Deuce would do his part in not calling you out on it… until Ace left, of course.

But the earl seemed to have no intentions of doing so any time soon, propping himself up against the now-shut door. 

“I’m perfectly happy, for sure,” you insisted, and though your face was not betraying it, Deuce thought you truly meant it. “But what are you doing here? You’ve never visited my room before.”

“I meant to look for Deuce to see if he wanted to train–”

You and Deuce locked eyes instantly. You’re trying not to make your change in expression too noticeable, but Deuce has observed you far too many times to not notice. It’s incredibly evident that it embarrassed him, almost, that you could be so happy for him because of something so very simple. 

It was a childish sort of glee, which might have been why he accepted it so readily. He never had the chance to experience that sort of situation and he’s not too sure you have either, having a laugh with someone over some puppy love. 

“He’s certainly free to do so,” you supplied, “if you want to, you’re free to take him off my hands right now.”

“Ah, but I’ve changed my mind. We train every day, so we should have a change of pace, should we not? Perhaps the tavern that opened the week prior?” 

“Hmm, should you really be forgoing training? The current victor of the tournament, the young Rosehearts, will be competing, too.” you interjected. It’s not an outright rejection of a suggestion, but Ace should have prepared a better excuse if this was his plan all along, thought Deuce. Still, he was currently his liege’s number one supporter—more time spent with the both of you? He could not see it as anything but a positive for all parties involved. 

“Oh please! What’s one day spent with my two companions instead of training until sundown?” Ace snorted, “And it was different last year! This year, my victory against the young duke is certain.”

“To be sure,” Deuce replied immediately, half out of belief and half out of solidarity of having lost to the same man. Next to him, you nodded your head slowly.

“Then if you’re certain…” What you said about not being able to resist Ace and Deuce must have been true, your reluctance at heading out visibly fading. This time, it’s Ace and Deuce who exchanged a knowing glance, and the same, childish feeling bubbled up within him again.

It’s not quite the trip to the other nation you mentioned to him, but it’s a delightful start, is it not?

“Then the both of you better get changed!” Ace grinned boyishly, “Or don’t! Regardless, I’ll have the carriage prepared by five!”

“Wait a moment, shouldn’t we be calling the carriage for you?!” you exclaimed, but the earl had already left your quarters. “Good riddance. Deuce, could I have the amulet I was working on back? We have some time before we need to leave and… I have the sinking suspicion he won’t leave us alone before the next few days.”

“Definitely. To both statements.” Remembering where he had placed it, he opened up the wooden box to retrieve the stone, only to be distracted by an already completed amulet—a nice blue that reminded him awfully of… ah. 

“Deuce? The amulet?” you asked again, shaking him out of his reverie.

“Here.” If you notice anything odd about his expression you do not speak of it, allowing him to leave your room peacefully to ready himself for the awaited excursion.

“I told Deuce I would comfort him should he lose to you… I can’t say I expected this turn of events instead.”

Perhaps Ace should have trained more. 

In his defense, he did not think Riddle Rosehearts would have done that well in the tournament considering there were no horses to ride on this season. His athleticism was never the best either during their days at the academy, so even if his swings were passable, his stamina should have run out quickly enough. And yet…

“But next year surely, my liege,” you comforted him, wiping the sweat off of him with a white handkerchief, uncaring of the fact that the both of you were in public or, perhaps, knowing everyone’s eyes would be on the ongoing match rather than the two of you. Even though Ace prided himself of being the (self-designated) mature person amongst the three of you, he did not say no to the opportunity of receiving your attention and affection. 

“Besides, not all hope is lost. We can still have the winner come from our house.”

Our house. Ace gleamed at your words. Of course. The ideal situation would have been to face off against his knight, but as much as he wanted to be the winner, Deuce being the victor would have been just as much of a joyous affair for the Trappola Earldom.

“If our Deucey wins, he’ll never let me forget it,” he sighed.

“But it would be worth it, having someone to avenge you, wouldn’t it?” Seemingly having deemed him presentable enough, your hands returned to your lap, handkerchief in tow. It's only then that Ace realizes it.

“Deuce gave you one too,” he said, more amused than anything. “What’d he sew for you?”

You didn't respond but you did smile, so it was likely something meaningful to you. If you were happy, then Deuce must have done a good job at choosing something for you, just as he chose something that well-suited him.

“He did not have to. I’m not competing in this tournament, so…” Again, Ace thought, you were smiling, so what did it matter if Deuce did not have to. Could people not act based on wants, now?

“And yet you’re using it, just as you’re wearing the tassel I gave you.” He grinned, fingers flicking the fringes the color you loved most, allegedly. If Deuce gave him the right information. You liked it enough to keep it on you, at least. “The tassel I did not have to get you.”

“It’s nice. They’re both nice gifts,” you murmured, and even though you’re no longer meeting his gaze he can still tell that you’re being honest. A part of him will attribute it to his amazing observation skills, but another, far warmer part of him knows it’s because he’s gotten to know you better. 

The two of you are already by his side, closer than before, and yet it is still not enough.

“What design did Deuce sew for your handkerchief?”

“Don’t pretend like you do not know.” For he knew for a fact that Deuce must have shared it with you, or at the very least failed to hide it from you (just as he failed to hide his tokens from Deuce).

“Then what do you think of it?”

He brought it out of his breast pocket, having tucked it in there before his matches began. 

“The hearts are differing in sizes. You can tell there were loose threads he tried cutting as much as possible without ruining the whole work. Still, there are hearts, the symbol of Trappola.” The symbol of Deuce’s dedication and loyalty. 

“It’s… I suppose it’s—” You threw him a look, and Ace reluctantly gave in, “—It is good. Give me a break! Nobles tend to have a hard time being honest, you know! If you think I’m bad, you ought to see the rest of them!”

You laughed, “I know, I know. I won’t tell. You should do it by yourself, after all.”

“Only if he wins,” he said, grinning.

“So I’ll tell him for you if he loses?” 

“A menace, you are,” he muttered, “I’ll tell him you thought he would lose, then.”

You no longer respond to his taunt, eyes now stuck to the grounds, clearly waiting for a certain blue-haired knight to appear before everyone’s very eyes, but your hands are moving, reaching into one of your pockets as though searching for something.

“I meant to give you something as well,” you said, pulling out two amulets. The stones are different in color, different in shape, but the similar craftsmanship all lead to one creator—you. “I’m aware these types of tokens tend to be given out before the matches, for good luck of course, but I’ve gone and imbued magic so I couldn’t take the risk of disqualification, and thus…”

You’re explaining. Overexplaining, really, in Ace’s humble opinion, every possible meaning you could think of—the importance of the stone’s color, the stone itself, what rune’s been inlaid and what spells you’ve enchanted it with. It’s detailed and clearly an overly complicated process and yes, he cannot deny that his heart is not unaffected by the gesture, but looking at the clearly matching amulets just makes him laugh.

He snatches the red one out of your waiting  hand, knowing what was clearly meant for him. His heart had just calmed down and yet it is full again.

So he might have been dense too, but at least he was the first to figure it out. That is a victory in and of itself, one he is never going to forget and let go of. Ever.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing!” He’s thumbing the amulet within his palm, invigorated despite his loss earlier. Even with the magic, he doubts it’s the stone’s doing. “Just thinking of how entertaining things will be from here on out.”

“Because of the match?”

“Sure,” Ace laughed, “because of the match.”

“I still got further into the competition than you,” Deuce argued, nursing his own injuries with one hand and… holding onto your amulet with the other hand. The injured hand. He justified it by saying it was because the amulet had healing properties, as you said, but he was just busy admiring it and thinking of a way to combine it with his (Ace’s) tassel to make a combined good luck charm of some sort.

“Second place is still the first place loser, Loosey-Deucey” mocked Ace, though not out of ill-intent. He knows malice is not at all there by the way he patted him on the back after his duel, the way he beamed at his progress, the way he promised to train harder with him so either one of them could take the young duke down. It’s the sincerity before everything else that makes him take everything he says with a grain of salt.

You seemed to understand all the same, simply allowing the two to go at it with each other since they were unable to do so officially. 

“It does not matter. I would have won if it was a competition of fists over swords,” Deuce laughed, “it’s just a shame. There was something I wanted to do if I won, but since I lost, I don’t have it in me to proceed.”

“Pray tell, what could that possibly be, dear Deuce?” 

He stared the earl down, shaking his head vehemently. “Absolutely not. You can find out when I win next year, my liege.”

“Is that so?” Ace asked, quirked eyebrow, almost as if he interpreted his personal oath as a challenge to beat. “And if I win instead of you, will you not go about completing this quest of yours?”

Beside him, you stood up.

“Perhaps I should set off—”

“Absolutely not!” Ace interjected just as Deuce reached out to stop you from moving, hand grasping your arm. There’s a momentary confusion—he knows why he stopped you from moving, you and your assumptions on this and that occurring between him and Ace and you wanting to step away from it, but Ace stopping you is…

“Hold on, should I leave?”

“What, no! Nobody’s leaving! I’m not getting up from here either! Are the two of you truly oblivious or are you playing oblivious?” Ace groaned, scrunching up his nose in distress. “Why is being the smartest person in the room such a difficult affair?”

“Rude,” Deuce muttered, before quickly inquiring, “but to what are you referring to?”

Instead of words, Ace made an odd motion with his hands, some triangular gesture that was clearly meant to speak louder than words. 

Deuce wants to laugh because it’s an amusing action for a nobleman to be making but humorously, it works well in getting Deuce to understand. It was to be expected, considering he spent much of his time thinking of this exact scenario (albeit, a setting more romantic than the manor’s medical ward, but he’s not in a position to be fussy about the details). He’s trying to catch your eye immediately, but compared to him, you just seem… confused.

Not confused in the sense that you did not understand what Ace was referring to—there was no subtlety in his implications—but more so a general confusion over what was happening.

“I know about Deuce’s feelings, quite obviously, and I was more than certain that his feelings for you had a chance of being reciprocated, so my being here…”

Deuce cannot help himself anymore, and it appears neither can Ace as they both erupt into laughter of chaos and disbelief. Who or what they are laughing at is not a question—it is everything, and then themselves for their own, self-induced stupidity and suffering. 

“I get that it might not have been obvious with me, but with Deuce?” Ace exclaimed, astounded at how you failed to realize the knight’s affections. “He could not have made it any more obvious if he tried!”

“Sorry? It’s quite difficult to determine gratefulness versus love versus love…

“And let’s not be a hypocrite as I could say the same for you, my lord! I thought Deuce was plenty obvious about his feelings, and yet, if I am right in regards to the timing of this affair, you’ve just realized it recently,” you huffed, “we are one in the same.”

Deuce stops laughing. Why did it feel like the two of you were blaming him for your respective lack of analytical skills?!

“As long as we agree that’s not my fault! If I was incredibly obvious, as the two of you would put it, the two of you are anything but.” But with Deuce’s insistence, the two of you turn to look at him as though he had grown a second head.

“What? No! We could make an argument for Ace as I was only mostly sure that your feelings for him were reciprocated, but I hardly made any effort to conceal my own.”

“Agreed. It was as clear as day to the point that I thought the two of you had already gotten into a relationship,” laughed Ace, probably the most honest he was going to be for the rest of the day, “and without me! I was quite offended at the thought of being excluded.”

“Like we could ever leave you be, my lord,” you replied, half a joke but fully the truth. “What would have become of us without you in the first place?”

“Like you would ever let us leave you be,” Deuce quipped, having finally absorbed the situation. If it was an accurate assessment, Ace had no plans of letting them know, merely grinning in response. “What would become of you had we not arrived at your estate?”

“Well there would be far less rumors about me, for one.” Still, the Earl Trappola will remain himself, the need to appear as though he had the upper hand when they all knew the feelings shared between them were of equal measure. Still, with a singular gesture, the two of them walk towards their liege—amulet clanging against his remaining armor, tassels swaying with your very steps. 

“But who cares about that, right?” Deuce replied, knowing it would be what Ace wished to hear—after all, he’d been pretty apparent about it since day one. As they neared him, Ace pulled them closer, making sure the both of them sat on either side of him. 

Then, Deuce heard the door lock. Ace and Deuce both turned to you, the obvious culprit, and you merely shrugged. “I know we’re not supposed to care, but let’s not cause a scandal today of all days! Who knows how many prying eyes there are in the estate!”

“Too many. Don’t be surprised if a strongly worded, but supportive, letter from either father or my brother arrives at our doorstep tomorrow morning,” Ace snorted, “Just hope it’s not some distant relative. I’m sure there are some spies prowling in our manor as we speak.”

“There won’t be any if we deal with them!” Deuce declared, “We’ll protect your dignity, my lord!”

You nod in agreement just as Ace smiles. “I’ll hold you two to that!”

There are other things Deuce wants to declare, to ask and to question. He wants to know what they are now, what will change between the three of them, and what will be of them in the future. He wants to ask and yet it doesn’t feel quite right, not now, perhaps because he already knows, and what he knows is not mere fantasy but reality.

Dear Madam,  Good day to you. I hope you do not mind if I skip the formalities. Until this fairy learns how to send letters with magic alone, the cost of these letters will unfortunately be priced according to how many sheets of paper we use up. In any case, Deuce must have updated you about everything that has happened in his letters. He must have also mentioned that the earl and I will be sending you letters to ask for your permission or blessing or whatever word it had been that the earl had used. In truth, we had been mostly joking regarding that. Ace—the earl—does not believe that the process of seeing one another requires permission from one’s parents, he is far from traditional, but we had come to the agreement to push through with the letters first due to the unusual state of our relationship—that being that we are all seeing one another, with one party not being human and another one being the noble we serve. Foremost, we agreed to send our letters out of respect for you, as we’ve long known what you mean to our knight, and what he means to you, his mother. As previously mentioned, I believe Deuce has told you much of our household affairs and much of his life, but I believe you would appreciate knowing how we see him. I am certain you know that your son spends much of his time training to become a splendid knight, and I am sure you would be happy to know that, day by day, he arrives closer to his goal. It would only make sense considering his sparring partner is none other than our competitive lord as well (and tell not the earl, too, but after keeping track of their victories and defeats, Deuce may have a lead on the tally). His skills are not which I wish to share the most, however. Ace and I have learned from Deuce about his past, we’ve known for some time now. Constant is his worry, just as constant is his change. His warmth and the good of his heart has become more evident than ever, and should Deuce not come to see you soon, we will be the ones to present him to you. (A mere jest. If it were Ace, he would find a way to bring you to the earldom.) That is all I can say for now. With your approval, madam, I hope we could become close correspondents. I would love to tell you more about Deuce, Ace, and myself, as well as know more about you yourself. Faithfully yours, 

Ace’s arm wraps against your shoulder just as you’re signing the letter off with your name, loudly talking your ear off about how he just won against Deuce (as expected, he tells you). It’s a tie now, though you know you won’t correct the tally you mentioned in your letter. 

Deuce, meanwhile, chalks it all up to luck, some sleight of hand the earl must have pulled, and swears he’ll beat him tomorrow. You want to tell Deuce to try twice as hard, just so you won’t tell his mother a lie. Instead, you joke that they both need to try harder else you come out as next year’s victor. 

They’re shouting now, mostly about how you’ve finally picked up their competitive spirit, about how you’re challenging them, about how they won’t go easy on you and about how you shouldn’t go easy on them. It’s a whole lot of noise one after another but, unsurprisingly, it fits your very idea of a peaceful day.

“You’re smiling. Is that your way of saying you’re confident you’ll beat us?” You stare at Ace for a moment, wondering if you’ll lie, before shaking your head.

“Not at all. I’m just happy.”

You don’t play it for laughs or take it back, finding comfort in the fact that you can leave the truth just as that. 

“What has made you so softhearted, huh?” You know you’ve got them when Ace can only scratch his neck and Deuce can only cover his ears, perhaps knowing it would match the hue of his liege’s hair. “As long as you're happy, then.”

It’s a rare moment of silence in the estate, and while you know one of the three of you will break it soon enough, you appreciate it while it lasts. You think to yourself, even the quiet can be peaceful, too. Peace is, and yet beyond, the volume of one’s chatter, the clashing of their swords; the quietness of their breaths and the unheard beat of their hearts. 

Beyond sound, peace is a place, a place you have found with them.

end notes | masterlist

[ 1 ] Decided to just leave the details about Reader’s tassel (from Ace) and handkerchief (from Deuce) blank, mostly since I didn’t feel too comfortable assigning something for them.

[ 2 ] As per my research, “In the Regency period (1811 - 1820) it was very expensive to send a letter. The cost of postage could be as much as a day's wages for a working man”. Of course, Deuce and the Reader have Ace to pay for the letter since they’re all sending it together (and I am not going for historical accuracy, lol), but I figured they’d still be conscious to cut to the chase to write as much as possible per sheet of paper.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader x deuce spade #adeuyuu #twst imagines #twst #nathya twst writing #nathya comm pieces #twisted wonderland

[happyhauntt]

if my wish were granted — nikolai lantsov

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: anya likes teasing nikolai. it’s far too easy to get under his skin. this time, enjoying some peace aboard the Volkvolny, anya claims that she prefers sturmhond’s rugged looks over nikolai’s princely features.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: fluff, a lil angst if you squint, this is steamy with sexual references but no actual smut, i'd still put it as 18+ just in case, pre-established relationship, this might be the closest to smut i've ever written and i need validation so please tell me i did a good job even if it's a lie, mentions of past injury. oh and krysa = rat.

─── word count: 1.4k.

     The gentle rocking of the ship is a soothing lullaby to Anya. Curled up and warm beneath silk blankets, she feels like she is small again and her mother is humming a sweet Old Ravkan song in her ear, familiar and strange all at once.

     Her mother, of course, did no such thing in Anya's youth — all those nursemaids and nannies — but the rhythm of it is still a balm on her soul. The rocking of the ship, the steady beat of Nikolai's heart beneath her cheek, the scent of saltwater on his skin. This is home, she thinks. She has never felt contentment like this before. She fears she never will again.

     Nikolai stirs beneath her. He toys absently with the loose locks of her hair, curling honey-coloured strands around his fingers. A soft smile stretches over his face, and when he speaks, his voice is low and husky with the remains of sleep. "What are you thinking about?"

     She looks up at him, so close she can feel the warmth of his breath on her face. His lips brush her hair as he speaks, and something lights up inside her chest. A spark she prays will never go out. A sense of safety that settles over her only when he is near.

     She doesn’t respond at first. She raises her hand, draws a gentle line down his face, from his brow to his chin. Nikolai shivers beneath her touch. Her finger lingers on his nose for a few moments, brushing lightly over the tailored crookedness of it. Nikolai tilts his chin and kisses her fingertip.

     “Not much,” she says, finally, and it’s the truth. Her mind feels fuzzy and warm, and the air in the cabin smells like candle wax and salt. Though their country is wartorn and her thoughts are forever occupied with other, more pressing matters — here and now, her mind is quiet. Anya will savour this bliss, these fleeting moments of peace between them, for as long as she can. It is the only time he belongs to her, and nobody else.

      His grin is wide and smug and edged with lovesickness. The tips of his fingers draw abstract shapes on the bare skin of her shoulder. “That’s quite an achievement. I must have done a fantastic job, if you’ve managed to lose your thoughts. I had worried it couldn’t be done.”

     Anya scowls mockingly at him, but she cannot fight the smile that curls at the edge of her lips. “Alright then, sobachka, you asked for it. I was just thinking that I quite prefer your nose like this. All rugged and handsome.”

     He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that makes Anya’s stomach do somersaults. Muddy green eyes rove over her, as familiar to her now as Nikolai’s usual hazel. “I think I prefer when you used to call me krysa.”

     “Ah,” she says, “but I didn’t kiss you then, did I? I’d call you krysa and push you into the nearest puddle. And you certainly weren’t this handsome then. You were still a boy, prim and proper and clean-cut.”

     "But I was a soldier, darling, and you did manage to fall madly in love with me.” A muscle jumps in his jaw, and Anya feels like she’s won some kind of prize. “Is that not ruggedly handsome enough for you?"

     "I'm in love with you, am I? That's news to me."

     A low growl rolls through Nikolai’s chest and suddenly she's beneath him. He hovers over her like a Saint of all things unholy, propped up on his palms with a wicked grin slashed across his mouth, and he kisses her deeply, tongue lashing over hers before he trails lower, peppering open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, her chest, her stomach.

     A calloused hand wraps gently around her thigh. The rings studding his fingers are cold against her skin. He kisses her broken knee, softly, reverently. Looks up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "How is it now?"

     "Much better." It had never healed right, but the pain of it doesn’t bother her much anymore. Anya is a soldier, after all. The salty breeze and the warmth of the air have eased the brittleness of her bones. Ravka's cold will be the death of her someday, she's sure.

     The scar that remains is little more than a puckered white line, disguising the sort of damage that will never go away, not completely. She had a cane made for when the pain is at its worst, when the chill makes her bones feel like knives beneath her skin and she can no longer put on a brave face. For the most part, it remains hidden out of sight. She despises feeling weak.

     "We're about an hour out from port," Anya murmurs, as Nikolai trails another line of kisses up her body. He ignores her for a moment, choosing to wrap her leg around his waist instead, humming against the column of her throat. "We should get dressed."

     His heart sinks at her words, and he buries his face in her neck. He feels her hand curling into his hair, stroking idly through tailored-red strands, and he wishes there was some way to stop time.

     He wants to press his lips to hers and kiss her until she's breathless. Wants to fuck her hard into the mattress until the rest of the world melts away and there's just this room and him. Wants to make her come so many times she can't remember her own name. Anything to keep her for a moment longer, soft and safe and happy, where the hell of reality can't touch her.

     But Nikolai has no such power, and in the next moment Anya is pushing him away, shimmying out from under him until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor. He reaches out with desperate hands, tries to latch them around her waist, but Anya merely casts an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

     The battle is lost, Nikolai knows, and so he sighs. Settling back on his elbows, he watches her retrieve some of their discarded clothes from the floor.

     “You look better in my clothes than I do,” he tells her as she tugs his shirt down over her head. She turns to face him, silhouetted against the golden light as it spills through the window. His shirt is long and loose on her, gaping at the chest where she’d pulled the ties undone. The hem just brushes the top of her thigh, leaving the rest of her long legs exposed in a way that leaves him breathless.

     She reaches up and sweeps her hair out of the collar, allowing it to fall in tangled curls down her back. “That’s because I’m wearing them, and you’re not. Up now, Kolya. Procrastinating will not make me stay longer; we both have schedules to keep.”

     When the Volkvolny finally docks in the port at Os Kervo, Nikolai kisses Anya just before she reaches the gangway. He keeps a tight grip on her waist but his lips are soft, tender, and Anya knows that if kisses could have a flavour, this one would taste of sadness.

     Saying goodbye is always the hardest part.

     When he pulls away, finally, he keeps her close. Their foreheads press together and his eyes are closed, as if he can keep her that way, as if the secret to making her stay is pretending she will always be there.

     She runs her thumb over the bridge of his nose, over the knots of ill-healed bone that Tolya put there, to disguise Nikolai’s true features. When he opens his eyes, they are green and not hazel, and a bolt of grief streaks through her. She misses them. She misses him, so much, and he is still here.

     She wonders if there will ever come a time when one of them isn’t always leaving.

     Two weeks after she leaves, a letter from Tamar appears, delivered with the rest of Anya’s correspondance. Her laughter peels out of her office and if her employees wonder what has made their boss, usually so stern and sober, sound so utterly giddy, then none of them mention it.

     Please tell the captain that you think he’s handsome as-is, Tamar writes. He keeps goading Tolya into actually trying to break his nose. Anya laughs until tears drip from her chin and the ink smears across the page. And if her next letter to Nikolai is a little more complimentary than usual, well, that’s a sacrifice she is willing to make.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov oc #grishaverse fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone oc #six of crows fanfic #* chapter update. #* fic: gold rush.

[kckt88]

Cruel Intentions - SNEAK PEEK!

Summary:

Two brothers who attend an elite university make a bet: to deflower the new dean's daughter before the start of the new semester.

Warning(s): Language, Drug Taking, Slight Homophobic Language, Bet Making, Maniplulation, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex (M & F Receiving), P in V, Safe Sex, Major Character Death.

MODERN AEMOND x O.C

HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THE MOVIE - CRUEL INTENTIONS

Word Count: TBC

Taglist -

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“I accept-now what are the actual terms of the bet?” asked Aemond.

“You know the new dean’s daughter-“

“-Reese Hargrove?” asked Aemond.

“Yeah, that one-little miss prim and proper thinks she too good for anyone, so I say we knock her down a peg or two” replied Aegon.

“-And how do we do that?”

“You will seduce her and then discard her” said Aegon.

“Seriously? That’s too easy-not even remotely enough of a challenge, got one of those moron friends of yours to do it” laughed Aemond.

“Did I mention that she’s a proper daddy’s little princess-“

“Again boring” said Aemond yawning.

“-And a virgin” replied Aegon smirking.

“How’d you know that?” asked Aemond curiously.

“I take it you didn’t read her little manifesto in the University magazine” asked Aegon as he threw a copy onto the glass table.

“Menstrual cramps?” asked Aemond as he glanced at the front cover.

“Shut up and turn to page sixty four” snapped Aegon.

Aemond rolled his eye and picked up the magazine, he flicked through the pages until he found the one, he wanted.

“Why I plan to wait by Reese Hargrove-Jesus christ is she for real?” asked Aemond.

“Oh, she’s daddy’s little angel-a paradigm of chastity and virtue”.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as Aegon ripped the magazine from his grasp.

“Let’s see-boring, boring, boring-I love my parents, boring, boring, boring-making a mature decision-oh here, she has a boyfriend named Trevor, been going out for a year and he understands” said Aegon mockingly.

“Trevors gay” snarked Aemond rolling his eye.

“My point is-you and I have fucked our way through most of the girls at university, which is hardly a challenge anymore”.

“So, all I have to do is fuck her and I win the bet?” asked Aemond.

“Pretty much-but if you’re thinking it’ll be easy then your wrong-” muttered Aegon.

“How do you even know that?

“Remember that up tight chick I told you about over Easter?” said Aegon.

“The one who broke your nose after you tried to finger-wait that was her?” asked Aemond trying to stifle his laughter.

A girl with some bite to her-now this could be interesting.

“Yes, it was her, proper humiliated me in front of everyone so now it’s payback time”.

“So, this bet is just your desperate attempt at getting revenge against a girl who wasn’t interested in you-for fuck sake Aegon” muttered Aemond running a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

“Oh, cut the moral high ground shit brother it doesn’t suit you-or do I need to remind you of the time you fucked your way through all four of the Baratheon sisters in the space of a week”.

“Far point-so I fuck Hargrove and then what?” asked Aemond.

“Providing you have proof of the deed being done, then I’ll let you fuck Alys” replied Aegon.

“What does Alys have to say about all of this-” mused Aemond.

“Well of course I asked her before I discussed things with you, and she agreed-“

“-Just like that?” asked Aemond disbelief.

“We have a semi open relationship remember-as long we tell each other that we want to fuck someone else, then it’s ok. Sometimes we even share” shrugged Aegon.

“Well, I’m not into sharing” growled Aemond.

“Do you seriously think I want to see your bare arse-no thanks. I just meant that me and Alys are open to many forms of expressing ourselves and our love” said Aegon.

“-And you’re ok with her potentially fucking your own brother?”

“You have to win the bet first” laughed Aegon.

“-And if I fail?”

“I get your car which I will make sure to fuck Alys in” quipped Aegon smirking.

“Fine-you’re on” said Aemond holding out his hand.

“There was me thinking you’d need a little more convincing” said Aegon smirking as he shook his brother's hand.

“Thing is, can you imagine what this would do for my reputation? Screwing the new deans daughter before the semester starts” mused Aemond.

“Would be one of your greatest victories-aside from the school nurse that you fucked last year, I’m still surprised they didn’t kick you out for that” said Aegon reaching for his silver cross necklace and pulling away the end.

The white power lingering on the small scoop spilled over the edge as Aegon lifted it to his nose and inhaled it in one sharp breath.

“Speaking of getting kicked out-if mum and dad see you doing that again, they will go crazy, they told you last time that there were no more chances” said Aemond.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them-besides you need to start making nice with Reese”.

“I suppose this would make an interesting chapter”.

“Oh, gee your journal, could you be any more queer?” said Aegon.

“Could you be more desperate to read it” smirked Aemond, his grip tightening around his leather bound journal.

“I would say good luck brother-you’re going to need it-besides it might be worth mentioning that you only have a limited time in which to get Hargrove into bed” replied Aegon.

“What do you mean?”

“Her father’s preoccupied with getting ready for the new semester, so Reese is staying at our aunt’s place for a few weeks, but I also know that she’ll be spending the last two weeks of summer break at her grandmothers-so that means you’ve only got four weeks to win the bet” said Aegon.

“FUCK” exclaimed Aemond as he turned on his heel and left the room.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #hotd smut #aemond #aemond smut #aemond one eye #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #alys rivers

[ladybirdswritings]

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary - The reader inches closer to meeting the cold and awfully handsome CEO of O’Hara Enterprises, Miguel. Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

next chapter

two

You don’t want to do this. You really, truly don’t want to do this. It is a selfish thought one could even think considering most people would be overflowing with undeniable joy at the opportunity to land a position like this. You’re a persistent thing, you never did give up easy. Not as a waitress, not as a pretty ballerina in a box, not as a future… whatever you will be doing here.

You did minimal research, silly on your end but you didn’t think it much mattered anyways. Most anything would be better than flying back home and taking the job waiting for you there. This was a middle. Of course, it wasn’t as pretty as twirling in iridescence for the world to see but, it was a middle.

You opted for a google search or two, that was after the twenty voicemails and you actually landing an interview. Javier Peña, former detective turned business man for this company which you know virtually nothing about.

All you know is that the glass is awfully shiny, the tiles squeak against your target heels, and your coat looks itchy and suffocating compared to the Asian girl who has finally returned from fetching Javier, you assume.

The women here are all so prim and proper, like they’ve been written from the remnants of uncanny valley. Their smiles are tight, their teeth a perfect pearl, but the girl who approaches you with not a sloppy name tag but rather golden embroidery etched into her cloth tresses spelling the pretty name: “Cindy Moon,” that girl seems more tolerable. More anxious. Younger, more human.

Your hand is cold as ice. This old, itchy coat has four holes in it and fails miserably at keeping you warm in December, in this mansion of an office. Manicured fingertips lift to twirl your silken curls. It is then that you remember the pain and suffering of flattening them straight last night and then again this morning.

“My sincere apologies, miss. It seems as though Mr. Peña is unavailable this evening. Not to worry though, I’ve managed to pull some strings. You’ll be interviewing with Mr. O’Hara.”

Thank god for the pretty, less uncanny valley and awfully kind Cindy Moon in a pencil skirt. You sigh in relief, unable to hide your smile as you lift to your feet and smooth the wrinkles in your skirt.

“No worries! I’m ready.”

Cindy Moon looks as if there is a piece of sour taffy glued to her pink tongue, but she forces what looks to be an attempted smile back before leading you to the glass elevator. So much glass it’s as if nobody here would be allowed to keep secrets.

You send another glance Cindy’s way as the elevator floats up to the highest floor. She hasn’t blinked, she hasn’t made a sound. She looks, afraid.

“Are you-?”

The elevator rings in joy, glass parting in welcome to a floor with glistening tile and glass surrounding one room of hidden oak that is six pirouettes away.

Cindy doesn’t answer you, she just looks grateful that the doors have parted.

“This way.” Her voice is tight too now as her white heels click against the marble tile, closer and closer to the oak. You stumble behind, eyes feasting on everything they can possible swallow.

There is a rendition of “Santa, Baby,” humming on a small speaker to your left— and a pathetic little Christmas tree on its last limb to your right.

Above you? A giant cursive dance of golden letters spelling: “O’Hara Enterprises.” That must be the owner.

It seems like ages before you reach the oak door, hidden by it or— from it rather. Cindy winces as she looks up at you. A long moment passes, you wonder if something is on your face. No, you realize when she frowns that she is contemplating something you don’t understand. She decides when her voice greets you in a soft whisper,

“Miss, keep this between us please but— Mr. O’Hara can be a bit… what’s the word I’m looking for… firm?”

She’s silly. Silly but sweet like sugar. You smile at her, gathering your words as you rest your body against the oak and cross your arms. How can you explain that you endured years of suffering from dancing under the torturous hand of Katerina and.. her husband.

Your smile doesn’t seem to put Cindy Moon at ease, not in the slightest. Maybe you missed something, an often occurrence.

Your brows pinch then as you try to pick apart her words. It is when your mind repeats them that realization strikes you like a bolt of electricity.

O’Hara Enterprises… Mr.O’Hara.

You’re interviewing with the fucking CEO of the company…

chap 2 song 🎧:

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fluff #Spotify

[karter-xoxoxoxox333]

TWST CHARACTERS REACTING TO LIGMA JOKES!!

POMEFIORE

CW: French, light cursing, pencil as w3apon 😨😨

Epel:

Epel had finally escaped Vil and came to ramshackle for freedom. Knowing in the state it was in currently, Vil would most likely steer clear of entering. He sat with you on the crusty and oddly crunchy ramshackle couch, finally free from the “torture” that was etiquette lessons.

“No no prefect you don’t get it . Do you know how hard it is to be all prim and proper in pomefiore??” He groaned,” all the ‘elbows off the table Epel’ and ‘Epel that’s not the salad fork that’s the fish fork’ What even is a fish fork??? Why do you need more than one fork one fork works just fine!!”

…

..

…

You looked at epel with the most dead serious expression you could muster ,

“Do you know how hard it is to live with ligma Epel? You don’t understand MY pain. So stop complaining 🤧🤧”

“…What’s ligma..?”

You couldn’t break character now, you were too far in..

“Ligma balls”

…

…..

…

As Epel’s expression melted from confusion to disgust to you couldn’t help but start giggling.

“Prefect. what the fuxk”

ROOK:

Today sucked. Legitimately. So you lie your head down, prepared to fall into a lovely sleep. And suddenly you feel a pair of eyes on you.

That’s not cool.

But out of fear you decide not to move, then you hear quiet footsteps coming from behind you.

You have a pencil in hand , and your grip on it tightens.

They get closer and closer and you can almost hear their heartbeat they’re so close. Then you strike..?

Someone grabbed the pencil out of your hand before you could get a good stab in.

“Ah Trickster…tu as blessé mes sentiments!! How could you ever intend to wound a poor hunter such as me?”

You sigh as loud as possible, just to really rub in your annoyance. “Rook you scared the shit out of me. I can’t stand guys with ligma.”

Rook stares at you for a few seconds, and you can’t really tell what he’s thinking until he says,” What might ligma be?”

“Ligma balls”

You , burst out in giggles. Rook however, only lightly chuckles.

“My trickster your humor is as melodic as the sweet singing of a bird,” he pulls out a creepily perfect rose from out of thin air,” Would you care to join me in seeing the film Bofa?”

“Bofa?? What???”

“Both of these nuts in your mouth.”

Your face only expresses pure shock.

He takes a picture.

VIL:

(Odd choice.)

Vil told you to come over so he could do your makeup for some publicity event NRC was doing . So obviously you showed up because let’s be real , you didn’t have a choice.

“Thank you for being punctual prefect.”

“Yeah yeah.. So what do you need me to do?”

He stares at you for a second like you asked the dumbest question he’s ever heard. “I need you to sit.”

You walk over to the vanity seat and sit down (it’s very comfy 😼😼) ,” Dang dang I’m sorry I’m sorry I had too much up dog this morning for breakfast.”

“Potato. Don’t consider me so stupid as to fall for your silly ploys.”

Then he starts doing your makeup, “Vil do you know why I need to go to this event in the first place?? It feels kind of ligma to me.” You ask.

“Potato, the headmaster invited you. So you must go,” he pulls your hair out of your face a bit rougher than needed,”- now quit asking questions and be still you’ll crease the foundation.”

…..

When he finishes you look like you eat 3 healthy meals and day and have your life together, like the embodiment of perfection ,” Thanks vil !! I look so pretty-“ you lift your hand up to touch your face.

..

He smacks it away. “Yes yes I know. Now if you had used the skincare I gave you, you wouldn’t need makeup to look as stunning as you do now.” He grabs for a hair curler.

You never got to make your joke.

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #pomefiore #twst shitpost #twst vil #twst headcanons #twst yuu #twst rook #twst epel #rook hunt #rook headcanons #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #vil x y/n #vil x reader #epel x reader #rook x yuu #rook x reader #twst crack #twst pomefiore

[whbtheories]

Character Preview: Satan

Domain: Gehenna

Sin: Wrath

Birthday: July 14 (Cancer)

Idiosyncrasy: spanking

Mental condition: depression

Ability: shapes the blood of those who love him

Theme colours: red, white

~

Interest

Of all the demons in What In Hell Is Bad? seen thus far, Satan's proclivities are perhaps the most tame of all, with only spanking highlighted as sparking his interest.

That said, his subjects are apparently big fans of being hit on the regular by their ruler, and his depression makes him quite the slapper.

Depression and Satan often go hand in hand, whether he is being blamed for it afflicting mortal beings, or portrayed as conquered antagonist or tragic figure.

And of course, his love of violence fits his sin to a tee.

We are told he is a lover of being both the spanker and spankee, but that anyone who gets with him on that level will soon be used to the submissive role 👀

(NB - the usage of S and M as personality traits in this context don't fully translate to sadist and masochist, but rather to dominant and submissive, or assertive and passive personality types.)

July is not a month associated with Satan, however the 14th is apparently Pandemonium Day - with Pandæmonium also being Milton's name for the capital of Hell, ruled by Satan, in Paradise Lost.

If we turn to the lunar calendar then July is also home to the Hungry Ghosts Festival, in which the ghost door opens and allows spirits to walk among us 👀

(The 15th of the 7th lunar month is when Dìguān, the Earthly Official of Taoism, visits this realm to absolve people of sins... And perhaps Satan seeks to beat him to the punch with his tempting deals.)

~

Personality

The ruler of Wrath is unsurprisingly said to be the most violent of all seven kings of hell, but despite this he is friends with all his subjects, an interesting feat.

It helps that the residents of Gehenna actively enjoy being the target of his wrath, with even Ppyong enjoying being slapped on his lil booty.

Satan spends his nights drinking with lesser demons in back alley taverns, suggesting a more casual approach to his conduct. Not so prim or proper.

He is also the first demon we meet in-game, and he is depicted as intense, knowledgeable, and tactically smart. And of course, exceedingly horny. He has a lot of ego but seemingly the skills and wisdom to back it up.

In this respect he is similar to Obey Me Satan in having a strategical mind and a flair for the dramatic, but unlike that Satan, WHB Satan seems confident in expressing multiple emotions without losing his head in his passion.

In tandem with Lucifer - and including Beelzebub who is often conflated with both - Satan is the demon most frequently portrayed in our media, historical and contemporary, and generally appears as one of two archetypes: the odious and not terribly bright monster of Dante's Inferno, often gifted with red skin and pitchfork; or the charming tragic figure of Paradise Lost, who may or may not bring ruination to us all.

This Satan is definitely in the latter camp, though just how charming he can be is yet to be revealed...

~

Aesthetics, symbolism, and my rating in the cut! ↓

Aesthetics

Satan is very much the pretty boy of the demon kings we've seen thus far, with long flowing locks, elegantly long horns, and an innocent looking face - well, other than the glowing red eyes, black cross pupils, and inverted cross mid-forehead.

His long black horns are tipped with blood red to match his eyes, and this colour also highlights his jumpsuit with a Seal of Solomon on each arm.

That seal is repeated in silver as his belt buckle, giving us a demon that is marked by Solomon three times - quite the statement. And in case it wasn't clear, he has the number 666 on him twice, as well as 'Gehenna'.

A full view of his outfit also reveals some katakana but it's beyond my translation abilities - I get something similar to boom/explosion isle which feels half correct at best. Although actually...

I wonder if it's a nod to Bakuon Rettou itself, which would certainly explain Satan's bōsōzoku style outfit 🤔 It's a subculture look from the 80s in Japan, consisting mostly of jumpsuits and bad biker boy aesthetic, with a dose of pseudo-nationalism to a greater or lesser extent - very problematic for irl nationalism, but fitting for a king of hell. They also put slogans on their jumpsuits that were translations of "cool sounding English" (eg "boom island", the literal translation of Bakuon Rettou.)

Bōsōzoku are an old fad now, but as a fashion type they are still popular in surrounding countries, thanks to popular media like the Bakuon Rettou manga.

(And on an even bigger tangent, they were heavily associated with nameneko merchandising, which as you can probably guess is cat related! OM Satan would approve of that part.)

If we see Satan on a motorbike, consider that one solved!

The inverted cross is also repeated - on his boots, his pants, and in the negative space of his heart pendant. This is a far more modern symbol of the occult, as until recent decades it was a holy symbol representing St. Peter.

In modern pop culture though the inverted cross is synonymous with Satan, hence its appearance here.

The placement on the forehead is also notable, as this is where the ash cross is placed on those repenting their sins - the inversion of that would suggest pride and relish of one's sins. Again, fitting for Satan himself.

And he has a final inverted cross on a long cord trailing from his hips to his knees - in this case one that is remiscent of Celtic high and Anglo-Saxon crosses of old.

This cord, along with his many belts and those boots, also ties in with the bōsōzoku vibe.

His thematic colours of white and red are a very provocative choice. White is a colour mostly associated - in this context - with angels and beings of celestial origin, as well as the concepts of purity, divinity, and origin.

For Satan himself to sport the holiest of colours is deliberately bold, not least with it accented by the colour of blood, of violence, and of passion.

His outfit is casual to the extreme but styled expertly. He very much gives the vibes of a delinquent king who is down to drink with his subjects, and he is also the leader whose outfit has least in common with the other residents of his realm.

In some ways this could suggest a demon who is careless about his throne, but imo Satan's look more strongly suggests supreme confidence in his reign.

A (pink-toned) blonde Satan reminds me of Lucifer from DC/Vertigo comics, who unlike Tom Ellis is platinum blonde and fed up of hell, as well as Satan from Ao no Exorcist who is the king of, wait for it, Gehenna.

[I'll dig into Gehenna in another blog ( ಠ▿▿ಠ)و ̑̑]

The only portrayal that comes to mind that has both blonde hair and red eyes though is Lucifer in Shingeki no Bahamut: Genesis - who also sports long black horns tipped with red. Personality wise though, they are completely different.

Overall his look is quite becoming, youthful with a knowing smirk, and absolutely made to tempt with large eyes, and teasing tongue behind a fanged grin.

~

My Rating

Firstly I should admit my own bias - after Mammon, Satan was always going to be the demon I would judge most harshly as I am a big fan of how he is portrayed in Obey Me.

That take on Satan, and the intricacies involved in his origin from Lucifer and subsequent strained relationship and burgeoning personality, are admittedly undercut by later in-game writing that reduced him to a far flatter interpretation. But still, the juice was there!

So, bear in mind that this is a harsh personal eye I am casting upon this Satan.

Satan and Lucifer both have the biggest challenge in being portrayed in a new and unique fashion, having been done so many times before, and in my opinion this Satan does an excellent job of establishing himself with an iconic new look.

The long pastel hair and large eyes give great contrast to massive horns and slit pupils, while his outfit is impressively modern and stylish.

Only one very minor criticism would be the lack of tail, but considering none of the WHB demons have yet been shown with one, that is either a deliberate stylistic choice for the whole game, or we simply haven't yet been granted permission to see them. Either way, as it applies to all, it can be disregarded.

This Satan stands as very distinct from OM Satan, and really from any other Satan I can think of. The long hair is a really nice touch, especially given his overall contemporary vibes.

One of the prettiest Satans I've seen, and one of the most intriguing.

10/10.

#whb theories #whb satan #whb #what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad satan #satan

[fallenclan]

vskldjf im glad you like Spottedember's design bcus she is so pretty and i need to sit down and draw her but im just so distracted to sit down and focus on doing that

but look at her she's my Main Character

literally fighting against saying "she has red hair, trauma, AND pronouns!" so hard rn and failing im failing

literally everything bad happens to her so much she's so miserable and sad now i love it <3

her moms killed her kittypet bio-mom and raised her to be Prim and Proper (haha get it bcus her mom's name is Primfoot? ...no? okay ill see myself out-) and she grew up when the clan was at war with literally every other clan (every single apprentice in her generation got scarred, some multiple times), and right after the wars stopped, a mass extinction event occured (cant remember what rn) and it killed her mom Rootshade who was deputy (Which is a WHOLE nother story involving cheating and affairs and WHY would you appoint the girl who cheated on ur husband deputy but anyway-), and the leader decided to make HER deputy?? for some reason?? she was just a baby??? (well okay she was 30 moons but still she's baby to me)

anyway she, Squirrelnut, and Hopestem became mates and I love to think that Squirrel and Hope always kept Spotted grounded and from freaking out cause she was so stressed from the pressure from her mom Prim and the responsibilities of being deputy in a clan that just really really likes being assholes and killing kittens. and i think they helped her be less like her mom/the rest of the clan to and try to choose kindness over violence. Hopestem actually got the message that she was a part of a prophecy!!! so i was like "these 3 are gonna make the clan good again"

and Spottedember became Spottedstar and you know the story---mass extinction event after mass extenction event decimated the clan until it was only Spottedstar, Squirrelnut, Skipnight (Hopestem's sister), and their kids. and it's really sad because all those apprentices Spottedstar has listed? most of those are all her kids, and specifically the kids born in "solo litters." Birchheather specifically kept getting injury after injury and didn't graduated until 15 moons, only to immediately die... during training sessions with them there would be messages where it said she didn't train them/did something else aside from training.

she's so traumatized and numb now, i love when horrible things happen

(its also really curious to me that her traits go from "childish" to "oblivious"... why? what's she being oblivious to? ...how evil her clan was? how abusive her parents were? things to think about)

(man i need to stop ranting and focus on my actual projects)

(hey also i think it's funny that both Swiftpaw her little brother and Swiftpaw her son died, especially because she totally named her son Swiftpaw after her brother. Swiftpaw's never live)

okay i should be drawing Mudsplash rn but. i just had to stop and do a quick doodle of Spottedstar hope thats okay teehee

of course you have red hair, trauma, two partners, an epic scar from the rat king, a rainbow collar, evil parents, and pronouns

#she has the same white patches as yewkit i just realized #or is it yewpaw rn. idk where we are with the posting lmao #i love women who are old and traumatized and maybe a little pathetic #fallenasks #alollinglaughingcat #art

[enthusiasticharry]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 10.0k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i cannot believe that I can finally say that the first chapter of regret me is out now. i've honestly been cooking this one for a while and i'm so excited for everyone to read it! it's honestly been my lil baby in my brain for so long and i cannot wait to hear what everyone thinks and has to say about it! pls let me know what you think, what you think of the characters and the plot and what you're excited for, i want to hear it all! (pls i've wanted to speak to someone for so long about this)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, drug and alcohol use, family issues and a very sexy 70s rockstar Harry Styles.

𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟎 HERE

Los Angeles, Spring 1970

There was so much that YN didn’t know about life. She was aware of this, of course, and she had faith that one day she would but sometimes life had other ideas for her. On difficult days, the knowledge that one day she would have full control of her life made it a little easier to stomach. That didn’t mean that sometimes she didn’t feel hopeless, or as though her life was spinning in circles that she had no control over. It often felt like that was the case.

She lived her life by the book, prim and proper under a magnifying glass. In her childhood, she was satisfied with her life, especially the attention that came along with it, but as she grew up that caught up with her. Living her life as the daughter of a Senator and Socialite in Los Angeles meant that there was no time for fuck ups, no time for even the slightest incline that her life wasn’t anything but perfect. Her father was one of the most influential and important people in the whole state of California, and she knew from a very young age that she would not be the one to fuck that up for him. YN always supposed that was the reason that they only had one child – to have that picture-perfect family but limit any fuck ups that may come along with that.  

“Remember, YN, this isn’t about us it’s about our country,” Her father would always say to her, every day, as though she had forgotten it from the day prior, “We’re the ones who set the example.”

“And that example needs to be perfect,” Her mother would chime in, softly spoken but always with that rough edge that would make YN shudder, “Right, darling?”

That word haunted YN her entire life. Perfect. It was easily the most used word in their household, and it was the word that YN hated the most. The word caused YN to question what she was doing with her life. The word caused YN to realise that she wasn’t living her life, but she was living the life they had moulded for her. They had orchestrated their perfect life, and YN had put up with it for eighteen years, but she was done.

YN had never seen central Los Angeles in the nighttime until this point in her life. It had taken her eighteen years to buck up the courage to forgo her perfect life for a night and venture into the city that she loved so much in the dark. She was dressed in a floral blouse and a pair of flared jeans (ones that she had secretly purchased a few days prior when her mother was distracted by diamonds) and felt she could fit in. She was no longer the Senator’s daughter, she was YN – the rebellious eighteen-year-old who wanted to know what she was missing.

When YN looked back, she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused her to snap and finally venture out on her own. It was just a random day in April when she decided that enough was enough, and perfect wasn’t what she wanted for herself. She wanted to know what was out there, and what she was missing. In some ways, she could have seen her childhood as her parents trying to protect her from the dangers that were in the world but as an eighteen-year-old, she only wanted to know what was out there.

YN kept darting her eyes from left to right as she continued walking, as though at any second the cameras were going to have spotted her and she was going to be busted. Or maybe someone will recognise her and that’s it, she would be forced to go back to her little prim and proper life. It was only when she started to get into the more crowded areas that nobody cared. Well, people noticed that she was there but were all too intoxicated to care why.

“Go on, honey, get your tits out for us!”

It wasn’t even the words that shocked her, because obviously, she had never heard such crude language before, but the fact that they saw her as a normal girl. Again, looking back, being catcalled on the street wasn’t something to be proud of, but she honestly didn’t mind the attention.

“Assholes!” The voice came from behind her, and she didn’t recognise it, “Leave her alone, go find someone else to annoy.”

Turning around, YN saw one of the coolest people she had ever seen in her life. A girl, maybe a little older than she stood in a halter neck top and a pair of jean shorts with not a care in the world. She even had sunglasses on the top of her head (it was pitch-black outside) and bangles on her wrists that rattled when she moved.

“You all right, babe?” The girl looked concerned about her, and YN was frozen to the spot. This was the first time that she had spoken to someone that hadn’t been vetoed by her parents in a long time, “Just ignore them, babe, they’re assholes.”

“Thank you,” YN nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Don’t worry about it, we have to look after each other, right?” The girl nudged YN’s shoulder with hers, “I’m Vivienne, by the way.”

“YN.”

“You look like a fish out of the water, babe,” Even though she was slightly mocking YN, there was still sincerity behind her voice, “Do you know where you’re going?”

YN released a breath that she had no idea she had been holding this entire time, “I don’t really. I haven’t… this is my first time –”

“Your first time on the strip, babe?” YN nodded, “Well, I happen to be an expert in the field that is Los Angeles at night, so I’d say you’ve hit the jackpot.”

Without a single hesitation, Vivienne slung her arm through YN’s and started marching her through the streets of Los Angeles with a pep in her step. It was risky, at the end of the day, as she had no idea who this girl was, but deep-down YN felt as though she could trust her. Vivienne babbled about all of the best places, and YN listened. The only time YN opened her mouth was to apologise when she knocked into someone on the street, but that person didn’t even seem to bat an eyelid in her direction.

To say that it was nearing the early hours of the morning, the streets were crowded, and the air was still warm enough for the majority of people to be showing more skin than YN ever had in her life. She hadn’t buttoned her blouse the whole way down, meaning that there was a slither of her stomach exposed and that was honestly the most exposed she had ever been.  

The walk that Vivienne was taking her on was long, but listening to her talk about her life and this place they were going made it seem like it was over in a heartbeat. For some reason, YN felt as though she was a tourist in the place where she had grown up her entire life. But she was in a way because she had never seen this side of Los Angeles before in her life.

Gazzarri’s was, in Vivienne’s words, the place to be for the best rock n’ roll on the strip. YN had never even heard of the place before, but from the long queue that covered the entire sidewalk, she thought that she was maybe the only one. Names covered the exterior of the building that YN had never heard of before, and the music was so loud that she could hear it from the sidewalk. This is what YN imagined when she thought of living her life, all the people and the music and everything in between. She just wished that she wasn’t such a novice.

Without a single hesitation, Vivienne bounced to the front of the queue and was immediately let in by the guard on the door. YN sheepishly smiled at the man who only grunted in response and allowed herself to be pulled inside by Vivienne. The place was crowded to the brim, and in all honestly, she had no idea how any of those people would fit in if they were let inside. Smoke clouded her vision, and the music was so loud that YN felt as though she couldn’t breathe. It was only when she familiarised herself with her surroundings that she realised that there was a band playing on the stage. They made a beeline for the bar, which did mean that YN received a few pushes and shoves, but nobody truly seemed to care. It was as though nobody cared at all.

The bar lined the left side of the room, complete with people frantically working behind it to keep up with the orders from people on their side. The entire place was alive. YN hadn’t even known that life could look like this, and she had seemingly found herself amid a girl who knew exactly what to do. Without any hesitation, Vivienne pushed her way through the gaggle of people at the bar and leant herself on its wooden top, front and centre. YN was a step or two behind her, but she made sure that she didn’t lose Vivienne in the crowd, or she would seriously have no idea what she would do.

YN thought that they would be standing there waiting for a century. In all honesty, she didn’t know how Vivienne had managed to beckon a bartender over and order a round of shots as quickly as she had. YN hadn’t drunk before, well not properly, but it was certainly something she was curious about. A few years ago, she had been at a party with her parents, and they were giving out complimentary champagne, and even though YN was years underage she managed to sneak a glass and downed it in one. She didn’t feel light and airy, or though she wasn’t in control of her body, so she stole another, and then a third. After her third drink her cheeks were flushed and the world was a little blurry around the edges, and it made the night a lot easier to stomach. This would be her first time trying hard alcohol, like the bottles that sat on her parents’ bar cart that she had been told many a time to stay away from.

Eight small glasses filled to the brim with a clear liquid were then passed to her and Vivienne. YN moved so that she was standing next to Vivienne, and watched as the girl brought the first glass to her lips and the second one straight after in quick succession. YN picked up her first two, planning to do the same but the second the harsh alcohol touched the back of her throat she coughed, and Vivienne’s widened her eyes at her. 

“You, okay?” YN nodded at Vivienne’s words, “Was that your first shot babe?”

“Yes,” Even though YN was grimacing, that didn’t stop her from lifting her second glass to her lips and throwing it back in one.

Vivienne cheered, “Jesus, girl. I can already tell that this is going to be a great night.”

It was a little hard to hear Vivienne over the music that was playing, but YN managed to figure out what she was saying. The two girls threw back their last two shots and without a single hesitation YN was being pulled through the crowd by Vivienne again.

There were cheers around them, and YN realised that the band that was on the stage had finished and was now leaving. It confused YN slightly as to why now that the band had finished, they were making their way towards the front. Wouldn’t that mean it was finished? All in all, YN had no idea what time it was, or what she was doing or supposed to be doing.

It didn’t take long for the two girls to push their way to the front of the stage, just to the right near some steps that were cornered off for the musicians to come off and on.

“This is about to change your life, babes,” Vivienne muttered into YN’s ears as the cheers subsided.

“What’s happening?” YN was embarrassed that she didn’t have a single idea of what was going on, but at the same time, she knew that if she didn’t ask, she would never know.

“The best singer of our generation is about to walk this stage,” Vivienne smiled. Even though YN had no idea who that was, she could tell that it was going to be good just by the excitement that Vivienne was showing and the rest of the room.

It seemed as though everyone was waiting for something, and the second that the lights in the room dropped YN knew it was this. The curtain covering the stage dropped, a drum beat kicked in and the lights around them flashed. The entire crowd came to life when he stepped onto the stage, even Vivienne at the side of her but YN just stood there, completely enamoured by the sight in front of her.

In all honesty, she didn’t know where to look. She didn’t know whether to look at the girl on the drums who seemed to be doing all of this without breaking a sweat, the girl on the keys who moved her body rhythmically with the beat or the guy on guitar with long hair that just seemed so cool. It was when YN saw him that she knew exactly where to look.

He came out with his microphone in hand, adorned in a denim two-piece that was left unbuttoned at his chest. His whole body moved with such ease, and what a body it was. If this was what YN was missing, she never wanted to go back. He had the whole room in the palm of his hand the second he stepped onto the stage, but it was only when he opened his mouth and finally started to sing that YN was one of those people too.

It was unlike anything she had ever heard before. The way he sang with such ease, as though he didn’t have to think about it made YN’s stomach fill with butterflies. The more of the song he sang, the more that it became familiar to YN.

The few times that YN had been allowed to leave the house unsupervised was to go see her friends from school at their house. Even then, there were always guards waiting for her in a car with blacked-out windows. It was a few months ago, and her friend (whom she wouldn’t class as a friend, mainly the best of a bad bunch of people) was raving about this new artist that she’d found.

YN loved music. It had always been the key to her heart and an escape, but she never had the chance to listen to anything that wasn’t certified fit for her by her parents. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t help but get lost in the music and wonder what else was out there. She sang in the school choir, and the day that she had been given her first solo changed her life. It made her believe that maybe she was all right at this singing thing too, even though her parents would hate the idea of their perfect daughter becoming a singer. Maybe a Christian Evangelical singer but that didn’t float YN’s boat.

The record that her friend had put on was from this man, the one that was standing on the stage in front of her doing things that shocked her and excited her at the same time. She spent the first song racking her brain for his name, and she hadn’t even noticed that she was singing along with him. YN picked up lyrics quickly, as she always had, but she was starting to wonder how maybe times she had listened to that record in the space of a few hours.

“Well, that was a lovely welcome,” The man spoke into the microphone as the applause around him drew out, “I’m Harry Styles, and I’d like to sing a few songs for you tonight if that’s all right?”

Harry Styles. That was his name. YN was shocked that she’d forgotten a name like that. It wasn’t exactly one that screamed forgettable. YN wondered if that was the name he was born with, or if he had picked it up once he had started recording. Either way, it was a rockstar’s name if YN had ever heard one.

The concert continued, and everything that man did on stage made YN’s insides scream. The way he pushed his curls back off his forehead, wiped the sweat off his brow with a towel, ran the microphone down his chest and thrust his hips – it all screamed sex. It was everything that her parents had warned her was a sin, and that the people who acted in that way were menaces to society. But no matter how much she tried to push that out of her mind, she couldn’t tell if she wanted to be that person or be with that person.

After starting with Only Angel, he moved on to Meet me in the Hallway, and Two Ghosts and Woman All of these songs he not only sang with such a passion and a fire and a gorgeous voice that drew anybody in but also had such deep, moving and powerful lyrics that YN remembers being lost in at her friend's house and that was the same at this point, hearing them live.

“We’re about halfway through,” Harry spoke into the mic, and there were a few grunts and boos from the crowd which made him chuckle, “Now since this is our first concert since we released our debut record, we thought we might do something a little fun.”

There were cheers from the crowd, and YN had no idea what was going on. She turned to Vivienne who seemed to have the same perplexed look on as many people in the crowd. There were a few girls around YN that were screaming and pushing and trying to do everything they could to get closer to the stage, but Vivienne and YN stood their ground.

“Okay, we’re going to sing one of my favourites from the new album, and I thought it would be a good idea to bring one of you on stage to sing it with me.”

The entire room erupted into screams, so much so that YN had to resist the urge to cover her ears from the sound. Vivienne had seemed so cool, calm, and collected but the second the screams started she joined in too. 

Los Angeles was the land of possibility. Of course, YN knew that. She had heard all of the stories from her parents of the low lives that pack up and move there were dreams of becoming a star. She’d read magazines that her mother hid from her of famous movie stars that found their fame sitting at bars and rock stars that found their fame singing in places like these. YN believed that most of the people in this room would kill for that opportunity, but YN had to lay low. Even though she was having the time of her life there was still that nagging feeling in the back of her head about what would happen if someone noticed who she was, and that information was relayed back to her parents. It would possibly be the end of her.

“Okay,” He laughs, and YN could get lost in those dimples that were adorned on his cheeks, “Sounds like you all like that idea. Okay, make as much noise as you can, and I’ll make my decision.”

YN stood there, sort of hiding behind Vivienne but she couldn’t ever be truly hidden as she was so close to the front of the stage. YN watched as he surveyed everyone screaming and clamouring to be chosen, but she just stood there. Even Vivienne was shouting, but YN just tried to drown the sound out as best she could.

He lifted his microphone to his lips and YN thought that she’d finally made it out unscathed and then he looked directly at her. He held up his hands to block the lights out and started walking towards her. YN shook her head at him, not letting her eyes draw away from his. He nodded his head at her, and she shook hers again.

“You want to do it?” He spoke into the mic, “You there, in the white blouse?”

“Oh my god,” Vivienne slapped YN on the shoulder, “He’s talking about you, babe.”

“He isn’t,” YN shook her head, “He can’t be.”

“He is,” Vivienne pushed her forward towards him, “And he’s coming right towards us.”

When YN turned away from Vivienne, he was standing right in front of her. He leaned down so that he was face to face level with her and smiled. YN didn’t know what to do so she just smiled back up at him, and he only grew wider.

“So,” At this point, he wasn’t talking into the mic, he was instead talking just to her, “What do you think? Do you wanna come up here?”

YN opened her mouth to reply but the next thing she knew Vivienne was answering for her, “Yes! Yes, she would.”

Harry laughed and Vivienne’s enthusiasm at the entire thing, “This is your friend, I’m guessing?” YN nodded, “Well it seems to me like she’s decided for you. Come on then, up you get.”

A man suddenly appeared at the side of her and moved the barrier that cut off the crowd from the stairs that lined the side of the stage. He waited at the top of the stairs for her, extending his hand out for her to grab when she reached the top.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “What’s your name?”

“YN,” She muttered back to him, leaning closer to say it into his ear, “I’m YN.”

There was a slight look on his face that YN couldn’t recognise, but then he just beamed a smile at her and pulled her towards the centre of the stage. Thankfully the lights were so bright that she couldn’t see anybody but the first few front rows, and even then, she was getting a few less-than-lovely stares from people.

“So,” He speaks into the microphone this time, dropping her hand so that he can be passed his guitar, “This is one of my favourite songs from the record, Ever since New York,” He turned to look at YN who truly looked like a deer in headlights, “You know it?”

YN couldn’t explain to him that she had only listened to his record for a few hours, and she hoped that her memory of lyrics was truly going to come in clutch right now. If it didn’t, she was not only going to embarrass herself in front of the heartthrob of the century but also an entire room of people that probably knew who she was. So, she just nodded.

He nodded back at her, and the music started. Out of all of the songs on his record, this was probably one of the ones that YN loved the most. It was just so raw and honest and beautiful if YN was telling the truth. Once it was his time to sing, he moved closer to the microphone and YN stood by him, trying not to focus on anything other than not getting the lyrics wrong, or the timing.

“Tell me something/ Tell me something/ You don’t know nothing/ Just pretend you do,” There was something about watching this man perform from a metre in front of her that YN couldn’t explain. It was exhilarating and hearing the crowd sing along with him, knowing that a few minutes ago she was in there baffled her brain.

“Oh, tell me something I don’t already know,” YN had been so mesmerised by him that she hadn’t even noticed him finish singing and moved away from the microphone, motioning with his head for her to step forward whilst continuing to play.

With a deep breath, she stood in front of the microphone and started to sing, “Brooklyn saw me/ Empty at the news/ There’s no water inside this swimming pool/ Almost over/ Had enough from you.”

When there was a slight lilt in the song she turned and looked over at Harry, and he was staring directly at her. He was still playing, but it was almost as though he was on autopilot and all he could focus on was her. It made her cheeks heat, and a smile crosses over her face but it gave her this urge to continue, as though she was truly doing well.

“And I’ve praying/ I never did before/ Understand I’m talking to the walls,” Without even thinking her arms were lifting as she was singing, “I’ve been praying ever since New York.”

She moved to the side slightly so Harry could join her, the two of them singing in such close proximity into one microphone causing electricity throughout her entire body. He never looked away from her, never drew his eyes away from hers as they both sang his song together.

“Oh, tell me something I don’t already know/ Oh, tell me something I don’t already know.”

It was electric, that was the only way that YN could describe what was happening on stage. She could hear the audience cheering, and Vivienne was screaming for her just where YN had left her minutes before.

“Tell me something/ Tell me something/ You don’t know nothing/ Just pretend you do/ Tell me something just before you go.”

YN would be lying if she said that they didn’t sound good together – they sounded amazing. Here she was, standing and singing with this rockstar who thought he was doing something nice for a fan of his and singing with her, and here YN was soaking up every moment of her dream that she didn’t even realise was her dream.

“Oh, tell me something I don’t already know!”

As they finished singing, YN couldn’t help the disappointment that bubbled in her chest. She wanted to stay, and she wanted to continue singing. She wanted nothing more than that. He pulled his guitar off and put it on its stand and walked over to her. He pulled her closer to him, and she could smell the tobacco scent on his clothes and the slight hint of whiskey on his breath.

“Come find me afterwards, yeah?” He spoke into her ear over all of the shouting.

YN smiled, “Yeah.”

“Everyone, give it up for YN wasn’t she amazing?” The crowd cheered and she gave one last little wave before making her way down the stairs. The man allowed her back into the crowd and Vivienne immediately threw her arms around her new friend.

“Jesus!” Vivienne looked as though she was going to explode, “Why didn’t you tell me you were hiding those lungs girl?”

“I didn’t think I would ever be using them, that’s why!”

“You were fucking amazing, and I’m not just saying that,” Vivienne said with sincerity in her voice that YN appreciated, “God, you could even really be something, babe, I mean everyone loved you. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of you.”

“I don’t know,” YN shook her head, “It was only a singsong, Vivienne.”

“If you say so,” She shrugs, “But I think it was more than a singsong.”

The concert continued with no other words spoken between the girls. YN tried to concentrate on what was happening in front of her but all she could think about was what had just happened. She had just been on stage, singing and it wasn’t solo in the church choir – it was to an actual song. YN was flying, she honestly couldn’t believe it.

Out of everything that YN had ever done in her life, this was honestly the craziest and the thing that had brought her so much joy. She had no idea that life could feel like this, let alone that she would be able to experience it outside the confines of her parents. She had no idea if she would ever be able to do it again. She wished that she could just relive it, just for a second.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight, we appreciate it,” He smiles out to all of the crowd, “I’m Harry Styles, and this is our last song. This is Kiwi.”

The second that the drums kicked in; YN was straight back into the concert. All of the thoughts surrounding what had happened earlier had gone, and all she could think about was what was happening on the stage in front of her. This song, if she wouldn’t go to hell for saying it, oozed sex, and rock n’ roll. It was mesmerising.

“When she’s alone/ She goes home to a cactus/ In a black dress/ She’s such an actress.”

YN hoped that she wasn’t making this up when she swore that Harry was looking directly at her when he sang that line. YN also swore that he winked at her as he did so. If she wasn’t already flushed and sweating from the heat in the room, she definitely would be now.

He finished the song and the whole place erupted. It was unlike anything YN had ever heard before and she was in awe. Once the music had stopped, the people around her slowly started to move.

“Babes, I need the bathroom, are you coming?” Vivienne knocked YN out of her trance and nodded. She accepted Vivienne’s hand and was pulled into the bathroom, and then into the stall with her. With every movement that YN made she was in a daze, as though she wasn’t in control of her movements.

YN leaned against the door and was ready to turn around and give Vivienne her privacy when YN realised what she was doing. When YN saw the dollar bill rolled up, along with a card and a little bag of white powder YN knew what she was about to do.

There was one side of YN that was truly thinking of listening to her parents and getting the fuck out of there. But then on the other side, the little louder and overbearing other side of her brain was telling her to say. The other side of her brain was that one that had just been on stage with a rockstar and sung her little heart out.

“You want some, babe?”

The second that Vivienne asked her that question YN knew that there wasn’t any turning away from this now. She was hooked. Every single little thing about it made YN wish that she lived this life and had this freedom without people watching her every move. That was probably why there was no hesitation in her voice when she nodded at Vivienne.

“Go on, then.”

YN felt as though she was having an out-of-body experience. Everything was making her laugh and smile, and Vivienne seemed to be feeling the exact same. The two of them pushed their way out of the small, disgusting bathroom and into the corridor that extended back to the club and then to what YN assumed was backstage.

The two girls turned to stumble their way back into the actual club, but that didn’t last long when they realised that someone was calling her name from behind them.

“Excuse me,” A man that she didn’t recognise stopped them in their tracks, “Are you YN?”

“Yup,” She smiled, giving the man a little nod. She was truly floating now. Even more, than she had been after finishing on the stage, “What can I do for you?”

“Harry would like to see you,” He spoke professionally, but both YN and Vivienne couldn’t hide the shock on their face, “If you’d like to follow me.”

Vivienne slipped her arm through YN’s, and they walked arm-in-arm behind the man. Vivienne leaned closer to YN and whispered, “Babe, you are totally getting some tonight.”

The prospect excited YN. The fact that she had two substances running through her system that she hadn’t experienced made for a carefree YN. She hadn’t ever felt like this before, and in all honesty, she could get used to it. She felt as though she could conquer the world with no questions asked.

The man opened the door at the end of the corridor, and they were welcomed with a dimly lit opened room. The band that they had just seen on stage were all sat with each other, drinking, and smoking and all in all being the coolest people YN had ever seen. The guitarist and drummer were sat on a sofa, leaning against each other, and passing a blunt between them. The girl on the keys was sitting with another man that was also on stage drinking, obviously having done a line of some sort by the look of the table. It was only then that she noticed Harry in the corner of the room by himself.

He was sitting by the open window, a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. It looked like he hadn’t been paying attention, but once the two girls had made their way into the room, he immediately walked over to them. Even in her slightly intoxicated state, YN could feel the butterflies erupting from the pit of her stomach.

“Well,” He started, the British drawl easing out of his mouth like it was honey, “If it isn’t the girl that upstaged me at my own concert. And her friend that convinced her to do it.”

“Vivienne,” The girl at YN’s side held out her hand for him to shake, “I would just like to personally thank you for making her do that.”

Harry laughed, “And how long have you two known each other.”

“Hmm,” YN wondered for a second, “About four hours.”

Harry laughed, but when he saw the look on the girl’s face he immediately stopped.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” Vivienne nodded, “Picked her up on the side of the road looking like a lost puppy.”

He shook his head, “Well, there are drinks in the fridge and maybe you guys can get to know each other a bit. And the others, I promise they’re friendly, and don’t bite. Well, maybe Mitch.”

YN nodded and followed Vivienne. It was surprising how she didn’t feel even the slightest bit intimidated by the conversation and felt so confident. Vivienne opened two beers on the side of the fridge and passed one to Vivienne, and then they both started to mingle. Vivienne sat with the woman on the keys whom YN learnt was Charlotte, and the man that YN learnt was Pauli. They seemed cool, but Vivienne immediately struck up a conversation with Sarah, who was the drummer of the band. Her boyfriend Mitch, the guitarist, was still sitting behind her but he left the two girls to it.

“With lungs like that,” Sarah tilted her head to the side slightly, lifting her bottle of beer to her lips, “You must have been singing for a long time.”   

“Sort of,” YN shrugged, collecting some of the condensations on the tip of her finger from the neck of her bottle. She was sweating, “I’ve sung in choirs for a long time, the one at my school and the one at church, but never anything like this before.”

“Well, you’ve got something, kid,” Sarah shrugged, “If you set your mind to it, you’ll be able to do anything.”

YN wished that it was true, but it wasn’t. When this night was over, whenever that was, she would have to go back to her perfect life with only the memory of what happened on stage. In YN’s mind, she couldn’t see any other way. It upset her, but she had done what she wanted to do. She had experienced the life that she wanted, and although she would dream of this night every day – this wasn’t the life that she was given.

“I don’t know,” YN shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head, “I wish I could, but I don’t think this life is what was intended for me, no matter how much I want it to be.”

She didn’t know whether it was the alcohol talking or the drugs, but she was unable to stop. It was almost as though once Sarah had opened the can of worms, everything that had been laying on YN’s chest wanted to voice itself to the world, no matter how much she wanted to push all of those feelings deep down.

“Look, I understand the whole chasing the dream but it not coming true,” Sarah moved away from Mitch slightly, so that she was looking directly at the younger girl, “Do you think that we all thought that we would be playing for the biggest rockstar in the world every night?”

YN shook her head, “I’m guessing not.”

“No, we didn’t,” Sarah leaned back on her boyfriend again, “But I wanted to be a drummer, and Mitch used to work at a pizza shop and would play the guitar in his breaks, dreaming of playing on stage. Everything in our life was pointing to that we would never play live music like we dreamed, everything, but then Harry found us, and he managed to drop our dream right into our laps.”

Without even thinking, YN turned to look at Harry. He had finished his beer, and his cigarette but he was still sitting on his own, staring out of the window. YN thought that he would have been with his bandmates, drinking and doing all of the drugs in the world – but he wasn’t. He was just sitting on his own, seemingly staring at the stars.

“It sounds like that man’s some sort of miracle worker,” YN laughed, the two people across from her joining in.

“He isn’t. He just has a good ear for good music.”

YN looked at the girl with a perplexed look on her face, “But he had no idea when he picked me that I could even sing. I could’ve sounded like a strangled cat for all he knew.”

The couple laughed, “But he took a risk, and it paid off. You have to use that. Now, if you excuse us, I think it’s time we went home.”

YN watched as Sarah and Mitch stood up, hand in hand and said goodbye to the band. Charlotte, whom Vivienne had been talking to also decided that it was probably time that she went home as well. She thought that maybe this was a good time to get Vivienne and go, but the way that Vivienne and Pauli moved closer to each other and were in such a deep conversation she decided to leave them.

There were other people in the room, but nobody caught YN’s eye. It was only when she turned to look back at the window where Harry was sitting that there was a slight panic in her, but when she noticed him slipping out of a side door, she knew that this was her only opportunity.

She gave Vivienne a look and the other girl gave her a thumbs-up, which made YN laugh. As she pushed the door open, YN realised that he could have been long gone by this point which stressed her out. But then again it didn’t take long for her to spot him sitting against the wall with a joint in between his fingers. It seemed out of character, that this mega-famous rockstar was smoking on his own, instead of surrounded by his band and groupies. Maybe there was more to this than YN was expecting.

Her boots crunched stones on the floor as she made her way towards him, “You sharing that?”

Harry turned to look at her, and she stopped right where she was. She leaned against the wall a few metres away from him and crossed her arms. He furrowed his eyebrows at her and shrugged, so she took it as permission to sit down next to him. She could still smell the tobacco on him, and in all honesty that was like drugs itself to YN. There was a slight chill in the air, but sitting this close to Harry and feeling his body heat against hers was all of the warmth that she needed.

“You ever done this before?” He asked, lifting the joint in her direction, “Miss. YLN.”

Busted. All of the confidence that she had, mainly due to her intoxication had gone, and she felt like she was just a little girl again, sitting and listening to her father’s speeches about what it means to be the perfect American little girl. She felt as though she had been caught, and she was slightly embarrassed for herself.

“So, you knew who I was?” She asked after a beat, not daring to turn and look up at him.

He lit the joint and brought it up to his lips, and surprising her, he passed it to her next. She did the same as what he had done but immediately coughed as it hit her lungs. She passed it back to him and saw a smile on his face.

“I didn’t,” He remarked, “It wasn’t until you were sat talking to Sarah and Mitch that I realised.”

Okay, that made her feel a little bit better. Maybe he was just a little more observant than she had expected him to be.

“Should I be afraid that you’re gonna tell my dad?” She asked, turning to look at him so she could see his face as he spoke, “Earn a bit of money from my dad buying your silence.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at the girl, and she felt tiny. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to preserve her body heat and make herself feel a little bit better about the situation.

“I don’t need your dad’s dirty politics money,” He shrugged, taking another hit, “I make plenty on my own, thank you very much.”

He wasn’t wrong. YN wondered how much a rockstar as Harry made. She wondered if she would be able to do that. Then she hypothetically shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts. YN’s life was already sorted out for her – go to college, meet a rich man who could sort her for the rest of her life and marry him immediately. She would then become a little housewife, popping out kids constantly just like her mother does. It wasn’t the life she wanted, but it was the life that was planned out for her.

“Nobody should want my dad’s dirty politics money,” YN shook her head, lifting her legs so she could rest her head on her knees.

Harry raised his eyebrow at that, “You don’t like your dad?”

“He has a less-than-desirable view of America and people,” YN shrugged, “And being his daughter, I’m automatically part of that.”

He passed her the blunt again, and even though she wanted to cough again she managed to keep it down. She hadn’t even spoken about this before, and the more that she opened her mouth the more that she couldn’t stop those feelings from spilling out of her.

“Forget your parents, forget their life and everything about it,” He said, his voice a little deep and coarse from the singing and smoking she guessed, “What do you want to do? What would you be happy to wake up and do every day?”

“Sing,” She shrugged, “I knew that music was always a big part of my life, and I didn’t know what that would mean until tonight. But getting up on that stage and singing with you – I couldn’t imagine doing that again.”

“Then don’t imagine it,” Harry shrugged, “Do it. I know some people that would kill to have someone like you singing for them.”

“I wish it was that easy,” YN sighed, offering him a small smile, “The only reason I managed to leave tonight was that my parents are out of town, and my guards had passed out on the sofa before the clock hit ten.”

“But you’re out, yeah?” Harry lifted his hands, motioning to the crappy little alleyway that they were both standing in, “Don’t go back.”

“They would find me. If you noticed who I was, it would only be time before I’m tracked down and sent back to their perfect little life. They’d probably send me away to a boarding school and release some sort of statement that brushed all of it under the rug.”

It was quiet after that. It was almost as though Harry didn’t have anything to say to that, and YN was thankful. There wasn’t anything that he could have said to make that better, because it was the truth. YN knew it, and he knew it.

“Enough about me though,” YN nudged him with his shoulder slightly, “You must have a story to tell. You’re obviously not from here, but you’re the biggest thing in a while.”

He laughed, “What made you say I’m not from here? Grew up in Malibu.”

He was joking, and it was a nice way to clear the air a little bit. YN was feeling a lot more relaxed than she had been when she first stepped out here, and that fuzzy feeling was back.

“No, you’re right,” He smiled, “Grew up in Cheshire, in a small village. Decided I wanted to be a musician and moved to London. Then I met Sarah and Charlotte, and our manager at the time had a few connections in L.A. Moved out here a few years ago, and here we are.”

“Here you are,” She smiled, turning so that her head rested on her shoulder looking directly at him, “But there must be more of a story than that.”

“Not really,” He shrugged, “Took us a while to get where we wanted, but we’re here now.”

He was hiding something, but YN didn’t want to pry. They were still strangers at this point, and he knew that she could be influential, just as she knew that he could be. It was strange because to YN it seemed as though they were both getting on quite well. Two people, from completely different backgrounds, but two people who shared the same dream. That burned for the same reasons. It was bliss, to YN.

“What made you pick me?”

Harry turned to look at Harry with his eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“You could have picked anybody from that crowd to come on stage with you, but you picked me. People were clamouring and screaming more than me. Vivienne was clamouring and screaming more than me.”

“I think it was because you weren’t screaming and clamouring,” He admits, and that says a lot more than YN was expecting, “You were the one that stood out, the one that wasn’t trying to get my attention that actually got my attention.”

YN laughed, “I’m my own worst enemy.”

“It was that bad of an experience?” He asked and she shook her head.

“No,” YN shakes her head, and she could feel herself getting a little teary, “It was the best night of my life.”

“Then why are you an enemy to yourself?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“As I said,” YN shrugged, “It will be the only time I’ll ever feel it.”

It was quiet between the two of them again. YN was looking directly in front of her again, but she could feel Harry’s eyes on her. When she did turn to look at him, he was staring directly at her. She leaned her head on her shoulder, and before she knew it, he was leaning forward and moving towards her. He was so close in fact that she could feel his breath on her cheek, and her heart was beginning to beat out of her chest.

“Do you know what I think?” He spoke, this time in hushed tones.

“What?” Her voice sounded croaky, probably from the nerves. She swallowed once to get rid of it, “What do you think?”

“I think you are your own worst enemy,” He spoke, not moving away from her but not looking at her. His eyes were focused on her lips, “Because if you pushed everything aside, fucked both of your parents off, you could be exactly where I am.”

YN let out an airy laugh. Without even thinking, and pushing away everything that told her no, she pulled away from him and leaned her head back on the wall. She could feel him still staring at her, but she pushed that out of her head also.

“I understand why you said that,” She says, her fingertips messing with the edge of her blouse, “But as I said, it isn’t that easy.”

“I think it is,” He says, inhaling some more of his joint, “I just think that you’re too much of a coward to realise that.”

That it was. Those words were all it took for YN to push herself up from the ground and turn to look at Harry.

“Well, you know what,” YN spat the words directed at him, “Fuck you, Harry.”

“Fuck me, yeah?” He laughed, “I’m sure you want to sweetheart, but I don’t fuck people that get in their own ways.”

“You’re an asshole,” She spat back at him, “And it’s unfortunate because I was actually beginning to like you.”

YN turned on her heel and stormed back inside the room. She ignored Vivienne and Pauli, even though the two of them were not even looking in her direction and stormed out of that room and into the corridor again. As she made her way down the corridor, a wave of anger rose throughout her. As she passed the women’s toilet, the men’s toilet door threw open and out stumbled a man that she didn’t recognise. She stopped in her tracks to let him out, but when he turned and looked at her, she realised that he recognised who she was.

“Hey,” His words weren’t slurred, but his body language showed that he was intoxicated somehow, “I know you. You’re that girl that sang with Styles, earlier.”

“I am,” She nodded, watching as he leant against the wall beside the toilet door. As if that was going to make her more interested. It wasn’t. But she was angry, and clearly wasn’t thinking right so she accepted his advances.

Losing her virginity pressed up against the door of a bathroom stall in a club certainly wasn’t what YN envisioned, and looking back she certainly shouldn’t have done that. But at the time, in her intoxicated and angry state, all she could think about was doing something for herself for once, and showing people that she wasn’t a coward and that she could do whatever she wanted and whatever she pleased. It was a way of showing herself that she could take control of her body, her mind and all of her thoughts. 

It was quick and sloppy, and she felt more pain than any pleasure, but she had done it. Today had been the day of firsts, but losing her virginity and singing for the first time on stage was the best, without fail. Even if both of them ended up being in a shitty way.

Once the man had finished, he turned to look at her, thanked her and walked out of the stall – leaving her half-naked and with not an ounce of her dignity left. YN cleared herself up and pulled her jeans back onto her body.

It was at this point she realised that she had enough. It was time for her to find Vivienne and for the two of them to leave.

As she pushed herself out of the bathroom, it didn’t take long for her to spot Vivienne walking towards her.

“Babes, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Vivienne immediately wrapped her arms around the girl, “What were you doing in the men’s bathroom?”

“Was it?” YN pretended to faux shock at that news. She turned to Vivienne and laughed, “I didn’t even notice.”

Vivienne let out a large laugh and linked her arm with Vivienne’s, “Come on babe, let's get you home.”

YN was happy to hear that.

It was around 4 a.m. when YN arrived home. She had said goodbye to Vivienne about an hour ago and contemplated going home whilst the sun rose before deciding that it was probably the right time.

She had taken her shoes off about half an hour ago, so she was swinging them around by the side of her as she walked. She slipped through the back gate, the same way that she had left last night. The only perk of living in the house that YN did was the fact that there were many places to hide. The back door was seemingly safe, so she opened it quietly and slipped through the door.

When she heard a quiet house, she felt as though she could have gotten away with it and be awake for her parents to get back later. The first item of business was to slip the fridge open and grab a bottle of water, hoping that would quench the thirst that she was feeling right now.

With her shoes in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, she made her way towards the stairs. She was tired and ready for bed, and she could feel all of her bones wanting to collapse the second that she started to climb them. She was exhausted, dehydrated, and ready to sleep for a century. 

The stairs creaked under her feet, just as they normally did, and she didn’t think anything of it until she could hear movement coming from the living room and she was immediately frozen to the spot.

“YN!” It was her mother’s voice that she could hear, “Is that you?”

They weren’t supposed to be home until the evening. That’s why YN chose last night to be the night that she went out, because whilst she could be caught by the guards, she would have time before she felt the wrath of her parents. There were two things that YN could have done. She could run up to her room and pretend that she had been there all night, or she could escape through the door. Both of those plans were ruined when the front room door swung open, and both her mother and father stood there.

YN was terrified, and still frozen in place. Her mother had tear-stained cheeks, as though she had been crying for a while now. Her father, however, showed a very different emotion on his face. YN could tell that he was annoyed, maybe even angry. His face was red, and the way that he was staring at her felt like she was a little kid again who had just smashed his favourite Scotch glass whilst playing with dolls in his study.

“I think it’s best if you come down here, YN.”

YN was no longer frozen to her spot, and instead was trailing into the front room behind her parents. She had no idea what she was going to be in for, and that was the scariest thing. Her father had never hit her or been violent, but he truly did have a mean streak. He knew how to make her feel so tiny, and so shit about herself with just his words. It was truly remarkable how that man could make people feel, and yet he was preaching his bullshit throughout the entire state.

Her mother and father sat down on one sofa, and YN took the one across from them. She dropped her shoes and water on the floor and curled her legs up beneath her, not trusting that they wouldn’t shake in fear if they were spread in front of her.

“Where have you been?” Her mother was the one to start, “We’ve been worried sick about you. Imagine our surprise when we get a call from Keith in the middle of the night saying that you were nowhere to be found!”

“Did you ask Keith what he had been doing?” YN shouldn’t have bit, but she did anyway. She could feel the anger radiating off her father with every second that she sat in front of him.

“We’re not talking about Keith, YN,” Her father spat at her, shaking his head, “We’re talking about you. Tell us where you were.”

YN shrugged, “I was out.”

“Where?”

“Does it matter?” This was the first time that YN had not only spoken back to her parents but also withheld the truth from them on such a scale as this.

“It does matter, YN,” Her father leant forward, spitting venom with every word, “Because I want to know what bullshit you got up to last night that left you stumbling home at four in the morning, stinking of alcohol and with red bloodshot eyes.”

“I’m guessing you already know, father.”

“I do,” He shook his head, grimacing as he did so, “But I want you to say it. I want you to say how you went out, got fucked up and did unholy things with strangers whom you don’t know!”

“Fine,” YN stood up. Eighteen years of anger and torment were finally brewing at the surface, “I went out last night, made friends with a stranger, sang onstage in front of a crowd that actually wanted to hear me, drank, did drugs. Oh, and one other thing, I fucked a guy in the bathroom of a club. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Her father looked as though he was ready to explode, and her mother just started sobbing. She felt bad for her mum, she truly did. Her mother wasn’t the problem at all, she had just been caught by her father and trapped. He was the problem. He was the person that she was trying to escape from. But escaping from him meant escaping from her.

“Sit down, YN,” Her father stood up, obviously wanting to intimidate her but it didn’t work. She couldn’t be intimidated by him at all, she was too full of rage to see anything but red, “You truly have disgraced our family, and you need to know that!”

“I’ve disgraced this family?” She laughed, she honestly couldn’t believe that, “It took me a while, but I did work out why I’ve had so many babysitters, yeah? Turns out you were sleeping with all of them, is that right, Dad? Wouldn’t want people learning about that one? You’d truly lose your seat then.”

For the first time in her entire life, her father’s hand left a loud smack on her cheek. She immediately lifted her hand to cover her face and realised this was it. This was the point that the water boiled, and she was ready to spill out.

“You’ve truly fucked up now, haven’t you Dad?” YN picked up her shoes and her bottle of water and turned to her mother, “I’m sorry but I can’t live here, not anymore. Not with him.”

With that, YN turned and ran out of the house. She ran straight out of the front door, still in just her socks, and straight through the front gate. YN didn’t know where she was running, or what she would do once she got there but she had left.

With only the clothes on her back, and her shoes in her hand she had left her parents and the hellish life that she had grown up in.

YN couldn’t believe it, but she was finally free.

#rm #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles series #series

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Deborah Kerr (Bonjour Tristesse, An Affair to Remember, The King and I)— For several decades she held the record for most Oscar nominations without a win (6 in total), and she was a prolific leading lady throughout the 40s and 50s. She's best known today for the romance An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant, and as the governess in The King and I. Many people have this erroneous perception of her as extremely prim, proper, and virginal, but this could not be further from the truth. When she first came to Hollywood under MGM she was typecast into boring decorative roles, but broke sexual boundaries for herself and Hollywood generally in From Here to Eternity, when she made out (horizontally!) with Burt Lancaster (on top of him!) in the famous Beach Scene. She went on to play many sexually conflicted women, a character type that would define most of her post- Eternity work. She continued to break Hays Code boundaries with Tea and Sympathy, which addresses homosexuality/homophobia head-on, and even did a topless scene in The Gypsy Moths 1969!! One of the only classic stars to do so. She deserves a more nuanced and frankly a hotter legacy than she currently has!!!

Hend Rostom (Cairo Station, Eshaat Hob)— Egyptian movie star called the "Marilyn Monroe of the East", need anyone say more

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Hend Rostrom:

Deborah Kerr:

I think she was one of my first crushes before I realised I was bi in The King and I when I watched it as a kid honestly. The kissing scene in From Here to Eternity is iconic for a reason. Actually tried to learn the accents for the characters she was playing if they weren't English which is more than pretty much anyone else was doing then. Played very restrained characters who frequently seemed to be desperate not to be so restrained. Did horror movies without venturing into hagsploitation tropes. Gave Marni Nixon the credit she deserved for her share of the singing in The King and I.

Anne Larsen is a peak late 1950s bisexual with big MILF energy. Have you seen the behind the scenes pics of her wearing a suit?? Have you????? Vote Deb as Anne Larsen.

Nominated for an Oscar six (6) times and never won, but besides her having actual talent (hot), and besides her looking Like That (very hot, also beautiful), she was always playing women who are, like, crazy repressed. Which makes it fun and easy for me to read these characters as queer. Icon!!!! You know what's hot? Playing ambiguously gay in vintage Hollywood.

Her face and talent and body, yes, ofc, duh. But also!!! Her HANDS!!!! I may be but a simple lesbian, but she is the best hactor (hand actor) that ever lived and that's HOT! For propriety's sake I feel I must redact a large portion of my commentary on this subject. Anyway. She's hot in her most famous roles (mentioned above), and also some of her sexiest hacting is on display in An Affair to Remember (her hand on the bannister when Cary Grant kisses her off-screen??? HELLO???), Tea and Sympathy (when she's trying to persuade Tom not to go out and she keeps flexing her hands like she wants to reach out to him but can't??? ALLY BEHAVIOR! WE STAN!), and The Innocents (which opens and closes with extended shots of her hands bc director Jack Clayton was also an ally and he did that for ME). Much of her appeal also lies in the fact that she often played deeply repressed characters and you know what's hot? When those uptight characters finally unravel. It's sexy. It's cathartic. It's erotic. Plus, she's beautiful to look at in both black & white and technicolor, and the more of her films you see, the more you can't help but fall in love!

Literally is in thee most famously sexy scene of all time (or maybe just during the hays code era which is what we're talking about HELLO), which is the beach scene with Burt Lancaster in from here to eternity. To quote a tumblr post of a screen capture of a tweet of a video of joy behar on the view: "y'know, there used to be movies where they were kissing on the beach... From Here to Eternity. They're kissing-- Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr are Kissing on the Beach and then the WAVES crash!! You know exactly what they did!"

She might have a reputation of being chaste and virginal or whatever, but we all know it's the quiet ones who are certifiable FREAKS

#deborah kerr #hend rostom #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

[fushiglow]

if you don't mind me asking, who are your favorite romantic relationship's couples in books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series (can be canon or non-canon)? Why you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

When I'm hyperfixating on a special interest, I find it really hard to remember anything that previously held my attention lol — so I'm struggling to answer this question, anon! I'm not a huge shipper usually, and I'm incredibly unenthusiastic about ship wars so I generally don't get involved.

That said, there are tons of ships I like in Jujutsu Kaisen. SatoSugu and Megumi are pretty much all I post about on here, but I've gained a few followers recently so it's probably worth saying because I've seen a lot of ship discourse elsewhere in the fandom recently:

If you're reading this and you really hate any of the ships I mention in this post, feel free to unfollow if it's that big a deal to you.

I'm really not interested in arguing about ships — because it just isn't that deep, I have limited free time to give to fandom and I'd rather spend it on things I love — so please don't get into that with me. However, if it's not a big deal to you, great to have you around! ♥

So, Jujutsu Kaisen ships I like below the cut:

Obviously, SatoSugu* has really captured my imagination. I don't think I've ever shipped anything as hard as I ship those two, but I talk about them all the time so I won't go into any more detail.

Other than that, I like GojoHime which I know is blasphemy for a SatoSugu shipper (I'm kidding, there's a bunch of us who ship both) but I don't think one has to preclude the other (after all, Gojo has two hands 👀). I've written two canonverse fics for GojoHime, and I've gently implied a former romantic relationship between SatoSugu in both.

I think lots of people read too deeply into the "she hates him" thing. Is he a bit of a dick to her? Absolutely, but treating Utahime like she's just a victim of the terrible Gojo Satoru takes away from her character — because she gives as good as she gets! I adore the contradiction in how she presents herself as this prim and proper miko, but she's actually a little firecracker who loses her temper easily and throws things at people and drinks heavily. Don't take that away from her, it's what makes her fun!

To me, it's obvious that their dynamic is designed to provide comic relief, but they trust each other when it comes down to it. In fact, I'd argue their bickering is evidence of that — if you're a polite person, you don't bicker with people you're not comfortable with. More than that, I like how Utahime is set up as a bit of a foil to Gojo. It's been said before, but there's a poetry in her technique making the 'strongest' stronger, especially considering that he goes to this character he's historically called weak to ask for help in the biggest fight of his life. Delicious!

Beyond that, I casually enjoy a bunch of other JJK ships. I don't actively seek out or create content for them, but I enjoy some of the art and fic when I come across it. Namely:

SaShiSu, in any configuration. SatoShoko is appealing to me for reasons I touched on in response to a question about Gojo's relationship with Shoko. SuguShoko is hot, simply because I think both characters are hot and they look hot together lol. I can even get behind poly SaShiSu!

OkkoFushi, because of Megumi's ~one line~ about respecting his senpai. It's essentially a crack ship, but I have the silliest little headcanon that Gojo brought Megumi to meet the first years sometime during JJK 0 and Megumi developed his first crush — see this adorable art for reference.

ItaFushi, ItaJun, and YutaMaki because they're all harmless and adorable.

GojoKen, because I love the potential for toxic angst.

KenTen, because "goodbye, old friend" — I'm sorry, what??? 👀

ShokoHime and ChosoYuki because they're all sexy as hell.

NobaMai, because they have sizzling chemistry.

KiraKari and MechaMiwa, because they're both canon as far as I'm concerned.

ShiuToji, because they're "business partners" — sure, guys!!

NanaGo, purely for the cute single dads art.

SukuGo, but only in a non-canon setting. They should have been besties in canon though 😔

Finally, the controversial one. Sukuna can stay the hell away from Megumi in canon (🥲) but I quite like SukuFushi in a specific AU setting — especially if Yuji and Sukuna are brothers in it! I have a soft spot for the Itadori twins, and I'm into the idea of big bully Sukuna meeting his match in his brat of a brother's quiet best friend with the deceptively sharp tongue (and knuckles).

However, I personally find that a lot of people mischaracterise Megumi in his ships and take away the aspects of his character that I really love (come on, he beat people the hell up at school!) so I'm not super into Megumi ships in general, despite the fact that he's my best boy.

As you can see, I'm really not that fussy about ships. In the past, I've definitely read fic featuring a side pairing that I'm not super into, but it won't stop me reading a good fic if there's a pairing I don't like in it. Sometimes, if it's well-written, I might even end up a fan!

Outside of JJK, there really isn't much. I don't follow many other animanga, but I think AkiAngel is a gorgeous ship and EreMika is cute although a bit bland. I think that's it though... Sorry this wasn't really what you asked for, but thank you for the question! ♥

*I just use the popular ship name, but I don't have any strong preferences when it comes to sexual dynamics so the name order isn't important to me — that goes for all the ships I like!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #呪術廻��� #satosugu #gojohime #sashisu #yuutafushi #sukufushi #ask fushiglow

[withlovelunette]

Matryoshka Doll & Wooden Soldiers (WIP title)

— A Nutcracker Retelling

Genre: Fairytale retelling, adult fiction, speculative fiction.

Setting: Wintery, early 19th century Germany, Russia & other culturally-inspired fantasy settings with a touch of steampunk.

Summary: Clara Stahlbaum is forced to prematurely shelf her ballet career after a severe injury. Feeling lost and alone, the former ballerina leaves the comfort of her home in the countryside to visit the city and help her godfather run his toy shop while she recovers from her mental strife. After encountering a peculiar stranger with wooden hands who speaks of a fairy that can undo all injuries and ailments, Clara is pulled into a plot of curses, tragedy and lost personhood.

Themes: Identity & self worth, loss of humanity, defying fate, vengeance and repressed emotions, hints of unhinged womanhood if you squint.

Introduction & Context

Matryoshka Doll & Wooden Soldiers is a retelling and slight reconstruction of the beloved story The Nutcracker & the Mouse King, taking partial inspiration from the ballet, but is otherwise mostly based on Hoffmann’s original 1816 novel! I’ve been deeply infatuated with this story ever since I watched the animated movie by GoodTimes Entertainment (please tell me someone else watched this as a kid) and the Barbie version when I was little. I’ve since read the original book and been wanting to reconstruct the story into something new! Everything in this post is very much a WIP and subject to change as I develop the story, as it’s still in its first draft!

Inspirations & Vibes

Tchaikovsky’s music and the ballet (naturally), powdered snow, sweet Turkish delight, hot steam from the locomotive swirling in the crisp winter air, scent of gingerbread and mulled wine with cinnamon, winter wonderlands and peppermint candy canes, pastel baroque & rococo aesthetics, white marble with specks of blood, loss of humanity and sense of self, tragic romance, whimsical inventions, old fashioned toy shops filled with wonder, out of tune music box and other antique trinkets, freshly baked Berliner buns, the gritty and dark hiding beneath the prim and proper, prickling fingers on thorns while picking berries.

Main Characters

Clara Stahlbaum (23) she/her

Burnt out gifted kid filled with longing and passions she can no longer pursue, a romantic posing as a cynic to protect her feelings, loves messing with little trinkets and antiques and is kinda a nerd.

Hans Peter (25) he/him

Stoic, intellectualises his feelings, detached yet slightly vain, charming until you realise he’s not aloof for allure’s sake he’s just kinda socially awkward, but hey maybe that’s charming to some.

Godfather Drosselmeyer (52) he/him

Eccentric, mischievous, a bit sketchy but people brush him off as just a quirky old man, secretive, knows a lot and yet literally no one in the city knows anything about him he just showed up one day.

I might make a deep dive post about these characters to go into their psychology and development if that’s something people would be interested in! Deconstructing a character’s psyche is one of my favourite aspects of writing and I’d love to be able to share it. Also I know this seems very heteronormative as a story but I promise there are queer themes brewing beneath the surface here I would die otherwise.

✦ If you’d like to be added to a tag list for future writing updates/excerpts, please let me know! 

Story Tag; #md&ws

#wip #writeblr #the nutcracker #thenutcracker #nutcracker #fairy tale retelling #wip intro #wip introduction #original post #steampunk #fantasy writing #md&ws

[omgiamwish]

👀👀👀👀 can I ask about your ritsu time travel fic?

Given I only started writing it about 2 weeks ago, I'm still figuring stuff out myself! Here's some bullet points:

The idea was born for a whumptober prompt. It wasn't supposed to go anywhere at all. This comic will likely not become canon to my story

The concept is pretty directly inspired by the rise of the tmnt movie and subsequent rash of fanfics about a Bad Future turtle coming to the past

It was @someone-online tagging this art post with "I would love to know more about him tbh" that inspired/convinced me to start writing this fic. I too would like to know more about him.

The fic will be entirely from other characters' povs as they observe future ritsu

Ritsu is experiencing his own personal torment nexus. He technically asked for it. That only makes it worse. I'm excited to find out how he deals with it.

The fic starts off 1 year pre-canon. Mob is 13. Younger Ritsu is 11, almost 12.

The current word count is about 2400 words. I have no idea how big it's going to be or how long it's going to take. I think it would be very funny if I finished writing it before my sibling got around to reading/betaing my other, already completed-except-for-edits fic.

Fun Fact that I don't know yet if I'll be able to fit in: Future Ritsu is still younger than Past/Present Reigen. Reigen doesn't realize/assumes otherwise until somebody tells him

An excerpt from Reigen's POV:

It’s hard to see. The Ritsu he’s met only briefly is prim and proper, and weirdly polite for a kid, even if he doesn’t seem to like Reigen much. A stuck up little angel, of sorts. And. Well. This Ritsu doesn’t like Reigen at all and doesn’t take care to hide it. He’s all sharp edges. Roadkill still alive enough to bite.

#mp100 #wish rambles