#If she was only a little bit younger and had a good script + direction she could have been chilling as Jane.

[volterran-wine]

𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: 𝘋𝘢𝘬𝘰𝘵𝘢 𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 Born 798 AD in The Kingdom of Mercia, Jane and her twin Alec’s human lives are amongst the most tragic within The Volturi Coven. The twin’s gifts were strong even as human children, and thus Aro wished to halt their turning until they were much older However... fate had other plans, thus Jane was turned at the tender age of 13. While her brother disappeared inside himself while being burnt, Jane focused all of her anger towards the villagers; wishing to hurt them as much as they had hurt her. Whilst in the Volturi’s care she has forged familial bonds both with Aro and Sulpicia, seeing them as her parents. 

#Jane Volturi #Jane Volturi Moodboard #Volturi Fancast #Twilight #Listen; Dakota Fanning was a marvellous child actress #If she was only a little bit younger and had a good script + direction she could have been chilling as Jane.

[pickledpascal]

How to be True

Chapter Two: Cut and Dye

Warnings: there's gonna be some really weird perspective shifts from scenes in the "movie" and "real life"

Word Count: 1.6k

How to be True Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Filming started at the start of November. Bryan had grown out his beard to be slightly scruffy and Charlie had successfully been able to style Bryan's hair exactly the way Sasha asked. His costumes fit perfectly, thanks to Cynthia. In his first scene, he was supposed to be wearing a deep blue-gray sweater and a pair of worn—but not ripped—jeans.

As filming started, Bryan was a little concerned about Sasha. It felt like she was avoiding him like the plague. Every time he entered a room she was in, she would immediately make some excuse and turn the other way. It was saddening. Did he do something to make her upset? Bryan didn't remember but he'd apologize if that was the case. Too bad Sasha was never in one place for long. It felt like it's been years since he'd last seen her when, in reality, it's only been a few months.

"How often do you see Sasha?" Bryan asked Jesse. They were about to be called to set in about fifteen minutes so they had a bit of time to chat. 

Jesse shrugged, "Haven't seen her since my audition. Why?" He cocked an eyebrow. Perhaps Bryan expected her to be on set more often because she was an actor, but she was the big brains of this operation. Not only was she an actor but was more involved in logistics, co-directing, and writing. 

Bryan shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "Just wondering. I haven't either."

Jesse nodded, an unimpressed look in his eyes. For an actor, Bryan was horrible at hiding his emotions in real life. 

"Teyonah told me she's pre-filming a couple of ads and promotional stuff as well as doing a little bit of last-minute editing for the script." Jesse explained, smoothing down the button-up he was wearing. 

"Teyonah?" Bryan's eyebrows furrowed. 

"My fictional wife. Megan." Jesse chuckled. He forgot Bryan didn't know a lot of the cast besides himself. He certainly wouldn't recognize most of the younger cast.

"Oh." 

—---

Nathan, Megan, Jack, and Jessie were all in the Sawyer home, gathered at their round table for dinner. Megan and Jack had gotten married during the summer and were very much in love with each other. So much so that it almost pained Nathan to look at. 

"Anyone caught your eye, Nate?" Jack asked in a teasing voice. 

It wasn't a secret Nathan was a hopeless romantic. He loved romance, he loved love. It just never worked out for him. Something about him was just never good enough for someone to stay. Nate didn't mind being single but most of his friends at his age were already married or in deeply committed relationships with kids. 

Nate shook his head. "No. Haven't found anyone yet."

"But girls fall head over heels for you, don't they?" Jack winked. "You can't be that hopeless."

"Jack." Megan sighed. Jack was terrible when it came to getting involved in his friends' relationships.

"Or are you two secretly dating and you're just not telling us?" Jack glanced from Nate to Jessie. They have been good friends since high school and worked at the same college together. He knew they briefly dated but decided to remain friends. Jack wondered if something else happened.

Before Nate could formulate an answer, Jessie did. "No. And if we were, I'm sure you'd be the first ones we'd tell." 

Jack let out a breath of air through his nose. "Better be. I know for a fact Nate doesn't have that many friends."

Nathan pursed his lips. As much as he wanted to protest, he knew Jack was right. He'd go out for a few drinks with his co-workers now and then but Jack, Megan, and Jessie were the friends he could rely on most. The closest ones to him.

Nate quickly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He locked the door and looked at himself in the mirror. He'd been on plenty of dates recently, due to the dating apps he'd been on, but none of them worked out well enough for a second date. Were his standards too high? Was there something wrong with him? 

Nate washed his face with cold water and let out a sigh as he stared into the mirror. He desired love like one might desire food to live. Except Nathan was starving. Desperate to get a simple taste, yet it all felt like sand on his tongue. He hoped that one day a feast of indulgence would ease the ache in his stomach.

—---

"Hey, try to cut it even back there," Billie called to her brother as she cut her bangs. Mason rolled his eyes as he gently ran the clippers through her hair. "You think Mom'll care about this?" She asked as her eyes glanced down at the blonde chunks of hair on the floor. 

Mason laughed a little, cleaning up the nape of her neck better. It looked more square… more masculine that way. "I think she's immune to it by now." 

Billie pursed her lips. He was right. With the amount of things she's done to her hair, this was the least of her mother's worries. Mason finished in the back and swept away the strands of hair with his foot. Then they got to work on mixing the dyes for Billie. She wanted to go for a deep midnight blue color. Billie put a lunch lady cap over her hair to keep herself from touching it for a while.

She and Mason sat in her bed as they scrolled on their respective phones. "You're going to college in a few weeks…" Mason murmured, glancing up at his big sister.

"Yeah." Billie cocked an eyebrow.

It would be the first time she wouldn't be living with her family. Thankfully, she found some roommates in friends who were already going to college. She was technically an incoming junior because she took online community college courses. Her major was in psychology because she wanted to help people. People like her who may have struggled with their sexuality 

"You think you'll miss me?" Mason teased softly.

Billie laughed as she flicked his forehead. "You suck. I really thought you might say something heart-warming." 

"Pretty sure that's child abuse! I'm calling CPS!" Mason exclaimed, dramatically lifting his palm to his head. 

Billie threw a pillow at his head and it landed, making Mason fall back on the bed with a light thump. How was she the only queer one in their family when Mason was acting out dramas in the comfort of her bed? It didn't make sense. 

Pushing the pillow off him, Mason rested his head on it. "How do you think Angel's gonna feel?" 

"It'll be an… adjustment." Billie's University was two hours away. Two hours away from Angel. And where she went to school. "Shit happens and I hope it doesn't happen to us." 

Mason pursed his lips with a nod. He looked too in thought for a sixteen-year-old. It was unnerving for Billie to see. Most she's ever seen him think through something was the Marvel Cinematic Universe timeline or One Piece. Or that one time he wasn't sure if he should sell his ultra-rare Pokemon card. 

—---

The scene ended with Sasha practically running to the hair and makeup trailer so she could get her hair washed. Correctly. She'd occasionally dye her own hair much like Billie would but she felt like it would look much better if she got it done. Most of the time, it did look better. However, she wasn't sure if it was just because she convinced herself it did. 

It just so happened Bryan was getting his makeup removed by the time Sasha slammed the doors open. Their hair was still sopping wet from it being under the bathtub from set. Marcy and Bryan looked at Sasha with widened eyes. Sasha looked like a rained-on dog. 

Their eyes stayed on Bryan for a moment before they flicked to Charlie. "I need some help here." The man in question grimaced a little, some water was dripping on the floor. Blue water. "I'll clean it up if you dry me off."

Charlie nodded, bringing Sasha to his chair. He hadn't a clue as to why Sasha didn't just want to get a wig or something, instead, they wanted to cut and dye their own hair. Which also meant no retakes. It had to be done perfectly. Bryan watched Charlie work with careful eyes. Charlie had worked on his hair before but he'd never seen the way he handled freshly dyed hair. Not to mention, Sasha's hair was now shorter than Bryan's. 

Marcy stared at Bryan, eyes narrowing as she glanced at Sasha and Charlie. She'd just finished removing his makeup, and Bryan was just too busy watching Sasha. "You're good to go." She smiled. "Someone's got a crush on the boss." She winked.

Bryan pursed his lips as he got up from Marcy's station. “Well, uh… see you later.” He hurried out of the trailer, stumbling a little on the stairs. He let out a breath once he was on solid asphalt. The first time he’d seen Sasha in a while and he made a mess of himself. His cheeks burned with embarrassment while the fall cold pricked his skin. 

So much for trying to get to know her. Perhaps, it wasn’t the right time.

Bryan ran a hand through his curls, making his way to his trailer. He needed to go through with his plan. Well, it wasn’t really a plan. He just wanted to ask Sasha out for coffee. Totally platonically. Or that’s what he told himself. Sasha was an interesting person. He wanted to get to know them. Maybe he’d have better luck over the coming weeks. He hoped so. Especially since they’d have a few scenes together soon.

#oc #sasha davis #bryan dechart x sasha davis #bryan dechart x oc #bryan dechart #how to be true #detroit become human #detroit: connor #movies #jesse williams #fall aesthetic #autumn #actors #she/they #jenna ortega #kit connor #iman vellani

[gracie-bird]

Show business royalty: ‘Josie & Grace’ explores friendship between Baker and Kelly.

In September 2020, the Morris Museum mounted an outdoor production of “Josephine: A Burlesque Cabaret Dream Play,” starring Tymisha Harris as singer, dancer, actress and activist Josephine Baker. And this weekend — producing an indoor play for the first time since the start of the pandemic, at its Bickford Theatre — the museum is once again presenting Harris as Baker, in “Josie & Grace: A Mostly Historical Cabaret Dream Play.”

This isn’t a prequel or a sequel. “Josie & Grace” offers a complementary view of Harris, focusing on her longtime friendship with Grace Kelly, the Academy Award-winning actress who married Prince Rainier III of Monaco and became a princess. While the first play told the story of Baker’s entire life, from childhood, this one shows her only from the early ’50s (when she was already an established star) through the end of her life in the mid-’70s. But like that play, it gives a sense of her struggles and triumphs, and showcases Harris’ ability to sing in a commanding, Baker-esque style.

Kelly is first shown as an aspiring, little-known actress, attending a performance by Baker in New York. She is really just a star-struck fan. But after Baker storms out of her after-show dinner at the Stork Club, infuriated because of the poor service she receives as a black woman, Kelly leaves, too, and the two strike up a friendship.

Harris said after the show — onstage, after taking her bows — that the show is still in its workshop phase. Its biggest current flaw, I think, has to do with the next part of the show. Baker and Kelly, in their next scene together, are shown as fast friends. Beyond mentioning that Kelly had become successful as an actress (and had had affairs with some of her leading men), the play doesn’t really show how they got from Phase 1 (Baker’s a star and Kelly, 23 years younger, is a show-business neophyte) to their warm, sisterly Phase 2.

In any event, the good vibes don’t last for long. The relationship is strained when Baker is not invited to Kelly’s royal wedding. They remain estranged for years, writing polite letters but not actually seeing each other.

But they do eventually reconcile, and Kelly explains that since Baker had been “branded” a communist by the press, Rainier couldn’t afford, politically, to invite her. Baker remains suspicious, though, that racism had something to do with it, and is angry at Kelly for not taking a stand.

Kelly notes that she is always sitting back while Baker is always charging forward, which seems about right; Kelly may be a real princess, but it’s Baker who seems like a queen. (On the other hand, Kelly has a bit of a rebellious streak, too, which helps to explain why she idolized Baker in the first place.)

Baker lets bygones stay bygones, though, and they remain friends. Kelly even provides financial support for Baker, who has developed a desperate need for it. Their bond remains strong for the rest of Baker’s life.

As in “Josephine: A Burlesque Cabaret Dream Play,” Harris exudes diva-like charisma as Baker. Joining her and Comeau in the cast is Stephen Lima, who is never seen but is heard as several characters, including Rainier, Alfred Hitchcock (who directed Kelly in three films) and Kelly’s father.

Songs include the anthemic “Non, je ne regrette rien” (“I Regret Nothing”); catchy 20th century gems such as “I’m Feeling Like a Million,” “I Can’t Get Started” and “True Love”; and Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are a-Changin’ ” (which Baker did, in fact, sing, and which was also featured in “Josephine: A Burlesque Cabaret Dream Play”).

Aradhana Tiwari directed, and Michael Marinaccio and Tod Kimbro (who worked on “Josephine: A Burlesque Cabaret Dream Play” as well) are credited with the concept, story and script. Kimbro also wrote the play’s two original songs.

In the show’s program, the creative team notes that not much is really known about the friendship between Baker and Kelly beyond that it was deep and long-lasting. To their credit, they have created a play about it that rings true, and certainly seems consistent with everything we know about Baker.

Source: NJ Arts.

Tickets available on this link.

#grace kelly #princess grace #josephine baker #josie & grace #theatre #play #2022

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT SAINT LOUIS

warnings: smut, 18+

-

Harry was doing his same script, he’s been starting every show but addressing the circular stage.

“Sometimes you’ll get m’face and sometimes you’ll get m’ass. Please, let me know if y’have a preference,” He gives the crowd a cocky grin, it widens when the audience goes insane with whistles and screams.

YN is standing off to the side, where she always stands with Harry’s friends and family who come and go - visiting them.

Harry’s eyes dart to his wife, when he sees her rolls her eyes at him, he points at her, speaking right into the microphone, “And you’ll be gettin’ the ass baby!”

The arena is near deafening with the fans who are fawning and cooing at the couples interactions, they all look back to YN.

She blows him a kiss and he dramatically snatches, smacking it right on his backside with a cheeky wink and purse of his lips.

He goes on with the show in his stunning red outfit that fit for Saint Louis perfectly - YN was matching him in a dark satin orange slinky dress that was undeniably sexy. It had Harry feeling her up backstage before he went on. ***

The fans loved that the couple matched at every concert.

YN loved watching her husband perform and after that comment about her getting his ass…well, it gave her some ideas for later.

The way the shirt he was wearing wasn’t buttoned enough so she could see the glisten on his chest, how the trousers hugged his perky backside like a sin.

It may be wrong, but everybody in this arena wanted him.

They want to hug him, kiss him, blow him, fuck him - but the only one who got that was her and she basked in it.

As Harry finishes with Kiwi, losing his absolute shit, YN and everyone else starts to head backstage. YN waves to a few fans and stops for a selfie or two before disappearing.

When Harry runs back to join, after dashing from center stage, he automatically finds his wife and wraps her up into a tight hug.

“Ew, bun. You’re extra sweaty, you definitely need to go shower,” YN crinkles her nose, pushing him off as he does stink a bit and is just sticky from sweat.

Usually, Harry would coerce his wife into joining him but they had quite a few friends who came to see the concert and YN was expected to entertain them.

“I’ll be thinkin’ about you, flower,” He teases, nipping her ear before chatting with their friends for a moment before he’s trailing off to shower and change.

-

YN waits a few minutes, enough time to guarantee he was already in the shower - soaping up.

She punches in the code to his locked dressing room, a soft smirk on her face as she steps over where he’s strewn the orange ensemble to purposefully piss off Harry Lambert - like always.

When she opens the bathroom door, she makes sure to be as quiet as possible - same as when she shuts and locks it behind her.

It a modern, standard shower stall and Harry is standing facing away from his wife - scrubbing his hair roughly to get the styling gel and grime out.

Harry’s shoulders are so broad.

His back is just…beautiful.

It’s so muscular, defined, and strong as he flexes his arms forward. Then her eyes trail down to his backside.

His bum was small, she loved to tease him and pinch it but it was muscular as well from those squats and wall sits he does in the gym.

After she quickly undresses, she steps in behind him into shower - pressing her chest up against his wet back and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Harry startles, nearly jumping out of his own skin before huffing out a laugh and leaning back into his wife, relaxing - well more like melting as he puts his weight on her.

“Thought y’were some crazy fan,” He jokes, hand coming down to cup the hers on his waist but frowning when she pulls back.

“Against the wall,” YN murmurs firmly, pushing him gently until his chest is against the tile and the shower head is pounding on his back and shoulders.

Harry shuffles forward, willingly albeit confused about what was going on and his wife’s demeanor as the cold of the wall hardens his nipples.

“Baby? Y’alright-“

“Did you wash yourself up already?” YN asks directly, hands rubbing softly at his sides, squeezing where his mini love handles are.

“M’body? Yeah, why-“

She cuts him off again, lips on his shoulder blade, “You told the crowd and me that I was getting your ass. I’m just holding you to your word.”

And when Harry realizes what’s about to go down, he lets out a low, explicit moan that echos throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” He babbles excitedly, it wasn’t like this was something rare for them. They normally incorporated ass play into their sex life.

It was something about catching him off guard, when he’s vulnerable, and the post-show adrenaline has already worn off - making him malleable and pliant for his wife.

“You want to be all cocky, arrogant on stage, right? But look at you now, whining for your wife to touch you,” YN teases sharply, hand drifting down to squeeze his cheek hard enough to make him squeak.

“Baby. I’m yours, I’m yours,” He gasps, voice turning into a raspy yet high begging tone.

It was a tone of his voice that nobody in that crowd had or would ever hear. No, it was saved for her when she had him like this, like nobody else ever will.

“You don’t think I know that, Harry?” His wife laughs, fingers moving to sneak between his cheeks, pressing tightly against where he’s aching for her.

She continues, “God, I think everyone knows your mine. You can’t keep your eyes off me during the concert, parade around your wedding band, make sure my tattoo is always visible.”

“It’s ‘cause you- oh fuck, s’cause y’my soulmate,” Harry moans, pushing back on her fingers - wanting more but she wasn’t willing, “Need more, darlin’, m’close.”

She really wasn’t even doing much beside pressing at him, pushing in just the tiniest amount but he was grinding his hips against the wall a bit and her tits felt so good on his back.

Sometimes when he came off stage, he had absolutely no stamina.

Normally he could last but when he was adrenaline high and had basically edge himself in front of tens of thousands of people, it wasn’t going to be a long event.

“That’s really sad, H. Reminding me of when we were teenagers and you couldn’t last,” YN ends her rude statement with a bite to his shoulder before dragging her teeth down a bit.

It was just fun to get Harry worked up, he still acted the same from when they were younger - he’d get bratty and demanding, whiney, his chest and neck bloom into a soft pink color, and his eyes are a bit wet.

“Still just as much of a fool f’you, tha’s why,” Harry puffs out, hands continuously clenching and releasing over and over against the wall - like he wants to just make Harry wife touch him, tortured by her teasing.

“Fine, fine,” YN simpers, as if he was being a pain but she slips down onto her knees - hands dragging down his back and then his lean, solid thighs.

But in typical Harry behavior, he turns back and looks over his shoulder, “Sunflower, y’knees? We can move out of the shower.”

“Shush up,” She accentuates her words with a heavy handed smack to his right cheek and she chuckles when he gasps out a quiet, “Fuck.”

YN cups his cheeks, spreading them and leaning forward.

As soon as her tongue hits where he’s hot and tight, his legs twitch, and he puts his hands on the wall to brace himself.

“Darling, baby, baby,” Harry mewls, pushing back for more and hissing when she licks into him - his ring-bare hand leaning back to thread into her hair.

YN was planning to draw this out but she only gets a few directed laps before he’s moaning obsencenly, loud enough to hear through the god damn arena.

And then he’s gripping his cock, giving one firm tug, and he’s coming with pants and unfiltered, inconsiderate shouts of pleasure.

“S’good, m’good wife. S’no one better than you. Y’the only one who makes me feel like this. Crave y’like a drug, flower,” He praises endlessly, he turns around and helps her up - kissing her harshly.

When his hand comes to sneak between her thighs, she shakes her head and murmurs, “We don’t have time, H. Everyone is waiting on us.”

He pouts with his swollen pink lips, “I’ll take care of y’are the hotel, promise.”

“Mm,” She agrees, scrubbing the leftover shampoo bubbles from his hair as he tucks his face into her neck and tries make himself smaller.

Harry always gets a little sheepish after she does anything that makes him feel vulnerable, needs reassurance from her.

“Only with you, m’yours. Y’own my heart, ‘ave since we were fifteen,” Harry murmurs into her neck.

-

When they get themselves together, dressed, and exit the bathroom into the dressing room.

Harry Lambert is irritated as he is picking Harry’s clothing off the floor and putting it back on the hanger.

The stylist gives them a look, a knowing look, as he hangs the trousers on the rack.

“Fuck off,” The singer huffs, tugging his wife by the hand out of the room and to the car waiting for them.

#harry styles #hslot #harry styles love on tour #hslot!harry #hslotrry #hslot Harry #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #erodsafishtacos masterlist #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles smut #husband!harry #harry styles husband #Instagram

[farfromharry]

okay then i can i request “i think i’m in love with her.” “you just met her five minutes ago.” with dylan obrien where he meets a fellow actress on like the teen wolf or any other set and it’s pretty much the start of both of their acting careers ?

Summary: Dylan meets you for the first time on your first day at the Teen Wolf set, and it’s say to say he thinks he’s already in love.

w/c 623

Dylan O’Brien x actress!reader

a/n from this prompt list

Dylan was unsure how long he had been staring at you from a distance. It sounded incredibly creepy, it probably was creepy, but he physically couldn’t take his eyes off of you; you were gorgeous.

It was your first day of shooting on the Teen Wolf set and the day had started with introductions to your fellow cast members. It was still early on in filming. Everyone else had only gotten there for the first time a couple days earlier. It made you slightly more nervous knowing that they had all already met and you were one of the last ones, but they did nothing but make you feel welcomed. You hadn’t met everyone yet, but you were planning to by the end of the day.

This wasn’t your first time on a set ever though, you had a few small acting jobs before this, but this was completely new for Dylan. He had never been surrounded by so many actors, big or small, but he was now really understanding the whole idea of movie star beauty. You looked like you belonged on the big screen and he was mesmerised.

Within the few days they’d been on set, Dylan and Tyler had become quite good friends and the latter was currently incredibly confused about what the younger of the two was staring so hard at.

Tyler had to stand beside the brunette and follow his eyeline to see exactly what he was looking at. Only to find where Dylan was standing gave him the perfect view of you sitting a little distance away reading over the script you’d been given. “Dude, you’re staring.”

He snapped out of his daze, startled at the sound of his friend’s voice so close to his ear. He had been so deep in thought about you that he hadn’t heard the man sneaking up on him. When he thought about what he said, he felt a harsh blush creeping up his neck, decorating his cheeks a deep red shape.

“I-I think I’m in love with her,” he admitted. The other man rolled his eyes, patting his friend on the shoulder.

He pointed out the obvious. “You just met her, like, five minutes ago.”

Dylan didn’t appreciate the mood kill, rolling his eyes and shrugging his shoulders sheepishly. It could be love at first sight, right? That was a thing. “But, look at her, she’s— she’s gone.” His eyes widened, his head spinning manically to see if he could see you anywhere.

He deflated when he didn’t see your pretty face anywhere, at least until he felt a gentle tap on his arm. His head turned in the direction, assuming it would be someone asking if he and his co-star could come to set now, but instead he was met with that same face he had been looking for in the crowd.

“Hi,” you greeted, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N. Just wanted to properly introduce myself, ‘cause I noticed you staring a little bit.”

He felt himself completely freeze up, a wave of embarrassment washing over him like a lovesick little boy. He didn’t realise he had been caught. Little did he know, this was way out of your comfort zone too. He may have been the one staring but you thought he was attractive, and your heart was pounding against your ribcage just talking to him. “S-Sorry about that,” he took your hand happily, the both of you ignoring the cliché spark you felt when your hands touched. “I’m Dylan.”

Your eyes had yet to leave each other’s intense gazes, but something about the bambi-like eyes fueled a warmth in your chest. You think you were gonna enjoy getting to know Dylan.

dylan o’brien taglist - @hunnybunimdun @taramaria @raajali3

#dylan o’brien #dylan o’brien fluff #dylan o’brien imagines #dylan o’brien imagine #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o’brien x you #ellie’s 3k blurb week

[awesome-opossum-after-hours]

I've seen people doing this and this movie obviously has a chokehold on my life so what better to do than list off my Encanto headcannons here we go

- The family now gets together to watch rat telenovelas written and directed by Bruno and Camilo, where Antonio helps interpret to the "actors" beforehand so they actually perform the script

-^ Luisa cries the easiest at said telanovelas, Isabela pretends not to be interested every time but still gets pulled in

-Camilo does slight of hand magic and is mediocre at it

-Dolores and Mariano eventually get married and have twins, and boy and a girl who's middle names are Pedro and Alma

- Young Bruno used to get prophecies in the form of nightmares before he developed his "ritual" for having visions

-Pepa was a scrappy kid with the classic Middle Child energy, she and Julietta (but moreso Pepa) also constantly called Bruno their "little brother" despite him only being like a few minutes younger

-Julietta was an artsy kid and often made gifts for her mom. when Mirabel didn't get a gift, Julietta taught her daughter how to cook and sew

-(I've seen people say this before but I just had to include it because it's adorable) Bruno would get picked on a bit as a kid but his sisters would always come to his side. Julieta would have food on hand to heal any cuts or bruises and Pepa would rain hell down on the bully

-the triplets used to have sleepovers all the time when they were little, especially after first getting their own rooms because they were lonely

-Dolores felt overshadowed by Isabela as a kid despite having a good relationship with her, but her and Luisa were always surprisingly close

-Camilo was the type of kid to make nonsense jokes, and Mirabel was the type of kid to laugh at them hysterically

-Luisa had a hard time controlling her strength and first, which led to quite a few broken vases or chairs, and some tears on her part. she eventually started working out to practice on control

-after the failed ceremony, Dolores heard Mirabel crying in the nursery and invited her to sleep in her room. some of the other kids did the same, and this went on for a few years

-Pepa and Felix met as pre-teens/teenagers and he instantly fell for her, but it took a bit for her to agree to go on a first date

-Augustín and Julietta on the other hand met as older teens/ young adults while they both happened to be on a walk. he saw her first and tried to pick a flower from a tree to give to her, but disturbed a beehive and got stung. she saw him, healed him, and the rest was history!

-(again this one isn't totally mine but I thought it was sweet so I added on) Dolores would have panic attacks as a kid and sometimes the only one who could soothe her was Bruno. he'd have her play with some of the sand from his room. after he hid away he knew she could still hear him, so if he noticed her panicking he would mimic the sound of falling sand, hence why she associates it with him

-and lastly, Camilo has his own babysitting service. after the events of the movie and realizing he's more than just a shape-shifter, Camilo would show himself more instead of constantly shifting into the kid's parent

#encanto #headcanons #encanto headcanons

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

#tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #lolbrosgetsicktoo

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ���work song’.

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[ NEXT ]

Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor. 

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her. 

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #crawl home to her #sab writes

[miss-1ng]

Dimiclaude kiss prompt no. 55?

this turned out... longer than i intended lmao

also hope you're okay with a soulmate au, because this is the only idea i had for this lol! thanks for requesting <3 <3

(also a warning for spoilers about claude's backstory and maybe dimitri's a little bit but otherwise i'm pretty sure everything is spoiler-free!!)

--

His name is Khalid, is what Dimitri’s mind - wide awake from the searing sting of finally gaining his soulmark - says, barely a whisper while when Ingrid got hers, she screamed with joy the moment she found out her soulmate was Glenn.

That was a year ago, on the fourth of the Guardian Moon, precisely the day of her birth, which was celebrated with her family and friends.

It’s legend that you become of age to receive a soulmark from the day you turn twelve to the day you turn sixteen. Sylvain, two years older, had, unsurprisingly received his two years prior to Ingrid and Felix who both received theirs when they officially became of age.

Dimitri however, while not exactly a rare case, though not a complete normality, had received his a year later than which his childhood friends did, at age 13.

Her mark glistens a glittering gold on the inside of her left wrist, corresponding with Glenn’s which is on the inside of his right one. Dimitri remembers her gushing how when the first time they held hands, their marks shone when they touched.

He also remembers Felix gagging and glaring at the two lovebirds for the rest of the day, completely enraptured with one another and nothing else.

As of that day, their betrothal was made official, now that Ingrid had her mark to confirm the one Glenn owned.

That was a while back now, and today, an exact year later, is Dimitri’s birthday. The mark on his arm stings, but as his eyes really take in the word in beautiful script on his wrist, he begins to ignore the pain.

Exactly three hours later, he’s at the Felix and Glenn’s home, sitting outside on the grass with the two of them, having recently abandoned the wooden training swords. Glenn is a full four years older than all of them, except Sylvain, who is only two years older. Yet despite his age Glenn still treats them the same.

When Dimitri finally shows the two his soulmark after lots of nagging, he notices the way Felix bites his lip and averts his gaze.

But before he can question it, Felix teases “You’re going to have a boyfriend!” before bursting out into laughter.

Dimitri hadn’t even thought of that, fully focused on the fact that he has a soulmark and not on the fact that his soulmate has the name of a boy.

He… isn’t too sure what to feel about that.

“And you are too,” Glenn calls in a sing-song voice to his younger brother, only to get fiercely elbowed in the stomach. A scowl has found its way onto the bright-eyed boy’s face.

Dimitri doesn’t say a word. Felix has been oddly secretive about his soulmark ever since he got it a month after Ingrid’s, while she had been flouncing it around whenever she got the chance and wasn’t with Glenn. Though at the same time, even at thirteen, Felix has been secretive, spending more time by himself than with the group unless he was absolutely forced too.

“Shut up!” he snaps, folding his arms and pouting. “I hate you.”

“So kind, Fe,” Glenn teases with a grin, ruffling his younger brother’s hair.

Silently Dimitri wonders what it would be like if he was in Glenn’s shoes, and he had a little brother of his own.

The silence Dimitri’s indulged in gets broken with a familiar call, and Dimitri turns to see Sylvain, even taller than the last time he saw his friend, standing alongside Ingrid who immediately rushes to greet Dimitri with a hug before running over to Glenn.

“Happy birthday, Dimitri!” Sylvain hollers the second he closes the door, separating the kids from the adults indoors. He joins the group. “How does it feel to no longer be the only soulmate-less one?” He adds a wink as if the very phrase itself wasn’t terrible enough.

A collective group of groans reverberate around the circle they’ve formed.

“You’re an idiot,” Felix grumbles to the older teen, averting all eye contact and instead vouching for a heated glare at the grass. Oh, if looks could kill.

“Aww, I love you too, Fe,” Sylvain teases, still grinning merrily as if he nothing is wrong with the world.

Felix’s face flushes. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Ingrid laughs. “I can say it too, if you’d like.” She clears her throat, as if beginning some long and important speech. “Aww, I love you too, Felix.”

“Now that’s left is Dimitri,” Glenn notes, looking at him.

The younger Fraldarius looks just about ready to bolt as Dimitri says “Aww, I love you too, Felix.”

Instead, he just mutters “It’s your birthday so I’ll take it. Just this once though.”

Sylvain leans close to Dimitri and whispers in a not-so-quiet voice “A little birdy told me you received your soulmark!” Bold black cursive writing stares up at him with non-existent eyes and he feels his heart start to thud.

Thump. Thump-thump. Thump. Thump-thump.

He doesn’t reply, instead peeling his sleeve a little higher above and shows Ingrid and Sylvain his soulmark.

The taller of the two squints at it, as if it’s hard to see. Ingrid’s reaction is more surprised, by the way her eyes widen, and her jaw goes a little slack. She fixes it when she sees his eyes on her with a small smile. “That’s great, Dimitri! It’s so pretty,” she gushes in a very un-Ingrid manner, but the twinkle in her eyes is all the same. “I wonder when you’ll meet your soulmate…”

“Khalid’s not a Fódlan name,” Sylvain offhandedly comments. Dimitri frowns at him, and he hastily continues. “I mean it’s not a Fódlan name I’ve heard. Who knows? You could get some hottie from Duscur or Brigid.”

“Of course, someone from Duscur or Brigid would come all the way over for our Prince,” Glenn drily says, pecking Ingrid on the cheek at her wide-eyed smile. “We’re not getting rid of him that easily.”

--

His soulmark was something Dimitri was very focused on for a while.

Then Duscur happened and everything seemed to fall apart.

His family, his friends… everything changed. The mark on Ingrid’s wrist faded to a black splotch, and the golden writing had completely disappeared.

Felix had shut himself off completely, not leaving his room unless he was training and not talking to anyone unless he was yelling at them.

Sylvain… seemed more closed off – more subdued. Dimitri saw him less and less as the months ebbed on.

And Dimitri… Dimitri couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus, couldn’t even think. His dreams being haunted by the dead, his father begging for revenge, Glenn hissing in his ear, taunting him, his mother, crying at his feet.

“You should’ve saved us,” they hiss. “Kill them for us. Kill them all!”

It’s not the first time he wakes to a cold sweat, a scream hanging on the edge of his lips.

He’s sent to live, along with the Duscur boy he met, Dedue, at Rodrigue’s place, and there Dimitri finds it frequent where he gets the full brunt of Felix’s verbal abuse. He wants to talk back, to say it wasn’t his fault, but he can’t find the words, can’t even find the motivation to speak. Instead, he just nods, silent, and Dedue finds him, concern lingering in his gaze.

It’s like that for a while.

Then the rebellion happens, and Felix seems to hate him even more.

--

It’s almost a relief when he arrives to the Officers Academy.

There he meets Edelgard von Hresvelg (or reunites, perhaps, if his hunch is in fact correct), heir to the Empire, and Claude von Riegan, heir to House Riegan.

Claude is… well… Claude is a lot of things.

In their audience with Rhea, he is stiff and stoic-faced, though the second they’re released from the chamber, he introduces himself properly to Dimitri. “So, you’re the prince,” he says with a wink. “Nice to meet you.”

“It is good to meet you too,” says Dimitri in return, dipping his head. He offers a small smile.

It’s not the only time they talk. As the year ebbs on, Dimitri gets to know Claude, should it be through sparring together, or even tea times Claude has insisted on. Claude is… well, first of all he’s nice and he’s kind, and he’s also very funny. He seems to bring a smile to Dimitri’s face whenever he’s around, and not only that but he’s…

…he’s beautiful.

Maybe it’s his smile, Dimitri supposes, his genuine one, or maybe those piercing green eyes. He’s also been good looking.

Sometimes when they train, Dimitri catches himself staring, and Claude’s caught him too, offering a wink and a teasing comment without any heat.

Not only that but Dimitri’s heart flutters whenever he’s around Claude, and he has to remind himself constantly that this isn’t okay because Claude is not his soulmate. The mark on his wrist proves just that much.

“You’re staring, your Highness.”

Dimitri flinches, almost forgetting that Sylvain is opposite him, lazily twirling his lance. He smirks at his childhood friend. “Got your eyes on someone?”

It would be great if he was immune to Sylvain’s teasing, but he is only human, and heat rises to his cheeks. “No!” His voice sounds a few pitches higher than it usually is. He clears his throat, averting his gaze from Claude who turns away from Hilda who he’s sparring with (how he got her to do so remains a mystery to the school) to offer a questioning brow. “I mean, uh, no. Of course not.”

“Sure, sure.”

Sylvain doesn’t sound at all convinced. He leans closer, whispering in Dimitri’s ear, “I mean Riegan is pretty hot. I don’t think even your soulmate would blame you for checking him out.”

Dimitri splutters, “W-what?”

“I have to go,” Sylvain says. “Pick up some of the ladies- oh, hey, Fe!” He runs off towards the direction of Felix who enters the training ground, and Dimitri doesn’t stop him, staring into the distance as his cheeks turn redder and redder as the seconds pass.

--

Nevertheless, Dimitri still goes out of his way to spend his time with Claude, pointedly ignoring his soulmark whenever he does.

“Your princliness!” Claude calls, waving in greeting as he runs over to him. Dimitri tries not to blush when he yet again winks.

“Claude!” He tries his hardest not to sound too surprised. “What-what are you doing here?”

He looks amazing. Dressed in a sharp suit he’s seen many of the other students wearing, his hair tousled and falling in front of his eyes. “I think the proper question is what are you doing here? Dedue’s worried about you. Says you haven’t even showed up to the ball and-”

Dimitri’s brain seems to shut off, his mind not listening as he surges forwards, closing the distance between them with a kiss.

It lasts two seconds. Maybe three.

Because immediately after their lips touch Dimitri lets go, eyes wide. “I- that was out of line,” he rushes. “I’m sorry, Claude, I shouldn’t have done that-”

But Claude pulls him back in, and Dimitri feels the mark on his wrist burn and-

He stares down at it, watching the white handwriting shimmer to gold. “What…?”

“I have been waiting so long to do that,” Claude breathes, oblivious to Dimitri’s confusion. He raises an eyebrow, clutching his hands. “Hey, what’s wrong…?”

“Khalid,” Dimitri breathes. Claude’s eyes widen. “That’s your name?”

“I-” Claude pauses, before nodding. “Yes. It is.”

Dimitri pulls him close, arms wrapping around him. He kisses Claude – or is it Khalid? – again, and again, and again. “It’s a beautiful name.”

“Mmhm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Their night ends not in the ballroom, but outside under the moonlight, the memory of soft kisses and warm embraces never to leave Dimitri’s mind.

#fe3h #dimiclaude #request #kiss prompt #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #my fanfics

[missymurphy1985]

The Rebel (Cillian X OC OneShot)

Warning - smut - and this IS only a one shot, I can't cope writing another series at the minute 😂

Request? Yep!

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @darlingjaye

"The fuck does she get off?" Cillian cried, throwing his bag across the trailer he shared with Paul Anderson.

"Someone's a fan of my new love interest!" Paul laughed watching Cillian fume as he paced the small trailer over and over again.

"I knew casting her was a mistake, she's fucking delusional!!!"

"What's she done now..."

"Literally THREW her coffee cup at her PA because she put milk in it... THREW IT!!! At her PA!!! Poor girl was fucking terrified man!"

"She's hot though, ain't she?'

"What? Fuck sake Paul you ever NOT think with your dick?" Paul smirked, raising his eyebrows at Cillian knowingly. "Yes okay, she's a good looking girl, but that doesn't mean she can get away with trampling over people to get her own way does it?"

"Maybe she just needs a good, solid man to ground her a little, bring her back to earth a bit?" Paul smirked.

"Go for it man, good luck to you. Last fella she had probably still needs therapy."

"Oh I wasn't talking about me mate." Cillian looked at him suspiciously.

"What?"

"Oh for fucks sake Cillian, when was your last eye test? Can you not see what's clear as daylight, right in front of you??" Cillian's eyes widened, not understanding a word coming out of Paul's mouth.

"You've lost me."

"Wonder if she's part Irish. Or wants to be...." Cillian's face contorted.

"Don't use that line it's fucking cheesy... Never works either. What's your point?"

"Mate if you don't get in there quick, she's gonna lose interest and Finn will be at it like a shot!"

"You're having a laugh aren't you? I'm not even remotely interested!"

"Uh huh. Okay. Just don't say I didn't warn you eh?" Paul put his baseball cap on and headed out the door, still with a smirk on his face. Cillian took a seat on the sofa and ran his fingers through what was left of his hair, rolling his eyes. Yes, Natalie was fucking hot... But my god was she challenging.

Throwing that cup today was one thing. Telling the director she didn't like her character was another. Her original character was supposed to be Tommy's new 'plaything' behind Lizzie's back, but Natalie had apparently requested a change of direction - she wanted to be Arthur's new love interest, nothing to do with Tommy at all. That confused Cillian, and he'd had to think back to see if he'd ever worked with her in the past, obviously he'd pissed her off at some stage, why else would being his onscreen love interest be so repulsive to her that she demanded an entire script change?

Heading into the bathroom, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He wasn't exactly repulsive, surely? Yes he had a few more wrinkles now that he did in series one, but he was nearly 45 now...

He shook his head quickly - why did it even bother him whether she found him attractive or not?? She was 32, not that much younger than him but still way out of his league, and to top it off she was a fucking nightmare!

But those legs... Her eyes... Her lips... He couldn't help himself imagining those lips wrapped around his cock when he lay in bed in his Manchester apartment alone at night... Without thinking he found himself palming the growing erection under his jeans, feeling that familiar stirring in his groin. Shaking his head quickly, he splashed his face with cold water and rearranged himself in his jeans, calming himself down before he embarrassed himself. Once his erection had gone down, he headed back out of the trailer and over to his hire car, the driver ready and waiting to take him back to the apartment block.

Natalie opened her apartment door and crashed onto the sofa, exhausted. A full week of intense filming, she was more than ready for a soak in the bath and a glass of Shiraz. Opening the cupboard in the kitchen area she groaned - no wine. She also remembered the bubble bath she'd bought, and subsequently left in her trailer back on set...

She fished around in her bag for her room key again, and bit her lip. She knew exactly who would have a bottle of bubble bath... She groaned to herself, having successfully avoided him up until now but her aching limbs were crying out for some Radox. She left her apartment and knocked on the door across the hall.

Cillian answered a few minutes later with just a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet.

"Erm... Hey?" He asked, not opening the door fully, more hiding himself behind it.

"Okay um, this is random I know, but I was just wondering if maybe you had any bubble bath going spare? Please?"

"Really?" He laughed.

"Is it so surprising to you that a girl likes a bath now and again?"

"No actually, what's surprising is that you actually have manners."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said 'please'. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Listen, you either have bubble bath spare, or you don't, it's a simple fucking question Cillian."

"Those tactics won't work with me love." Cillian

"Forget it, for fucks sake..." She turned to leave, rolling her eyes.

"Wait.. yes I have spare. Come in, I'll grab it for you." He pushed the door open so Natalie could walk inside, before heading into the bathroom. Coming back out with his jeans on, she couldn't help but be drawn to his toned chest and biceps, his upper body still damp from his own bath moments before she'd disturbed him.

Cillian caught her checking him out and smirked a little, handing over the bottle of Radox. She took it, smiling a touch herself.

"You smile too." She lowered her eyes and tried to hide the grin on her face. "You're not as hard faced as you try and make out, are you?" His arms were folded across his chest now, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Her eyes suddenly watered, and she bit her lip. Cillian frowned watching her well up and instinctively moved closer, taking her shoulders into his hands.

"Hey now... I didn't mean to upset you..."

"No... No I deserved it. God I'm so sick of this!"

"Sick of what?"

"I have this reputation of being a diva... With my career... I just like things to be perfect and when they're not I can lose my temper so quickly and it's fucking horrible and I make people hate me!" She choked back a sob, and Cillian pulled her into his arms, holding her as her shoulders shook.

"We all like things to be perfect Nat, but life doesn't work out like a fairytale, things just go wrong and that's okay?"

"I know, and I always feel so fucking guilty afterwards.. I can't stop now - my reputation is the only thing keeping me in the press, keeping me relevant..."

"You're kidding, right? So all this bitchiness, the demanding ways - it's an act?"

"Some of my best work has been off camera Cill." He couldn't help but laugh. He opened the cupboard and pulled out two small glasses, followed by a bottle of Irish Whiskey. Offering Nat one, she nodded, and they both moved into the lounge area.

They talked for a while - comparing stories of Hollywood, other actors they'd worked with, before Cillian cleared his throat. He needed to know the truth about her changing the script to be Arthur's love interest rather than Tommy's, and now she'd sank a few whiskeys, she was probably loose enough to tell him straight.

She hung her head, embarrassed. She knew he'd probably find out eventually, being one of the producers, but she hoped if she avoided him long enough she'd never need to reveal the truth to him.

"I also turned down Inception. And they offered me Thandie Newton's role in The Retreat."

"Okay..."

"I turned them all down when I found out you were in them."

"Ouch!" He chuckled nervously, "I don't think I want to ask why!"

"Because.. and this is awkward so don't laugh yeah?" He nodded as a promise not to, but his eyes widened when she revealed the truth. "Because I've had a crush on you since I was a teenager... And I didn't wanna make it awkward but I guess I just kinda did.."

Cillian was stunned into silence for a minute, or five. His silence made her nervous, and she pulled herself off the sofa to head out, realising how much of a fool she'd made herself. Making a mental note to blame the whiskey in the morning, she stood up, only to feel his hands suddenly on her waist as he stood up next to her.

"So that's why you didn't want to play Tommy's love interest, huh?" He held her in front of him, his hands squeezing her hips as he pulled her closer.

"Would've been too awkward.. for me at least.." closer still, their faces now inches apart.

"Does this feel awkward?" Their bodies met, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel how aroused he was, pressed up against her, making her breathing heavier.

"No..." He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against hers, just ghosting over them.

"And this?" He whispered, his hands moving up, not quite over her breasts, just underneath them and round her lower ribs. She couldn't speak, just shook her head. Her breath hitching in her throat as a hand snaked back down, under her leggings and underwear, softly caressing her inner thigh and mound. Cillian glanced at her, her eyes closed and breathing deepening as his fingers traced her core, pushing a finger inside her to feel how much she was throbbing for him.

"Want me to help you with that?" She nodded again, and felt his fingers probe her, moving up slightly to brush against her clit making her hips grind against him and her fingers press into his biceps. His fingers moved slowly, circling the small bud.

"That feels good...." She panted, rocking her hips to ride his fingers, needing more.

He responded by moving his fingers quicker, pushing the small button harder. Her head fell against his chest and she groaned, her orgasm coming quickly.

"Gonna make a mess on my fingers, Nat?" He whispered in her ear, her breath coming in short bursts now. His other hand moved to her hair, pulling the bobble from it and letting it fall down her back, running his fingers through and tugging it to pull her head back. His lips on her neck, biting and sucking at the skin. Her hand resting on his arm, keeping him in place as he fingered her.

"Don't stop... Don't stop... Faster..." She gasped, and he happily complied. Rubbing her clit hard now under her clothing.

"Make a mess on me, cum for me..." She came with a force she'd never felt before, gripping onto his arms and holding his arm steady, riding her hips against his hand as her orgasm began to subside. He gave her a few minutes to catch her breath before pulling his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste her, groaning at the sweetness and pressing his lips against hers.

Bringing her close again, he backed her up until her calves hit the sofa, before laying her against the cushions and pulling her leggings down, her underwear with them. She spread her legs, biting her lip as his mouth kissed up her thighs.

"You want me to fuck you, Nat?" He lifted her t shirt over her head, her body completely bare now as she nodded.

Her fingers pulled at his jeans, and he unfastened them, easing his erection out before allowing them to fall to the floor, kicking them across the room. Natalie pushed him onto the sofa, sitting up against the cushions before straddling him, his hard cock now pressed against her soaked core.

"I'm gonna fuck you, that okay?" She smiled, her forehead pressed against his as she sunk down on his length, gasping at the sensation of being completely filled by the man she had fantasised about for years. His hands moved to her hips, before she moved them, putting them behind his head, taking full control. He smirked, before his mouth fell open - her hips riding him felt incredible. Pulling her body up, keeping the tip inside, she bounced gently, teasing him. Sinking down on him again, only to repeat the process. His legs were shaking from the sensations.

"Don't tease me, ride me." His blue eyes were like ice, and Nat sunk down so he was fully sheathed before moving her hips back and forth. She released his hands and gripped onto his shoulders for leverage, arching her body backwards slightly so his cock hit against her g spot deep inside her. One of his hands moved to her ass cheek, the other to one of her breasts, both of them squeezing and kneading at the flesh as her body grinded against him.

The hand on her ass moved round to circle her still sensitive clit, making her hips jerk faster.

"Cillian.... Cillian...." Her breathy moans of his name, the way her pussy clamped him, claiming him completely, the feel of her firm breast in his hand, the way her eyes fluttered closed as her orgasm approached... She was intoxicating.

"Baby.. I'm close..." He groaned, feeling that burning coil in his abdomen.

"Me too... I'm on the pill..." He grinned and held her hips still, pounding his hips up hard from underneath her. He had to cover her mouth to silence her loud screams, careful not to alert Paul in the next apartment. That only seemed to turn her on more, and she took two of his fingers into her mouth, sucking them, still tasting herself on them from earlier. The hand on her ass slapped it and squeezed it hard in response, making her cry out.

"That's it... Good girl... Fuck, I'm gonna cum..." Her orgasm flowed from her at his words, and she felt him shoot several streams of hot cum deep inside her as her walls clenched around him, milking him for all he had to give her.

Their foreheads pressed together again, both panting as they rode out the waves of pleasure.

"Does that live up to your fantasy?" He chuckled, groaning a little as she gave him a final clench of her walls.

"More than... Fuck that was incredible..." She gasped, gently rocking against him, not wanting him to leave her body just yet. She could feel him hardening again, in fact she wasn't sure he even softened.

"Don't stop, keep moving... Nice and slow.. Just like that..." He helped her hips move slowly, riding him gently.

"You're insatiable, aren't you..." She groaned.

"You feel too good wrapped around me, full of my cum deep inside you... You gonna let me fill you up again yeah?" She didn't answer, instead just allowed him to move her against him. He brought her hand down to rub her clit, needing to feel her cum again. She circled the bud gently at first, then feeling his cock start to twitch inside her she picked up the pace. He suddenly moved them so she was underneath him, his hips pistoning into her as he bent his head down to watch her fingers pleasuring herself.

"I'm gonna cum, Cillian...."

"I'm right there with you, come on..." A deep groan from both of them as they came together, him filling her up for the second time.

His body fell against hers as she held his shoulders, his face buried in her neck lightly caressing the skin with the tip of his nose.

"Fuck... Natalie... I haven't been able to do that for years," he laughed, hissing slightly pulling his sensitive cock out of her. Their mixed juices flowing from her onto the sofa cushion.

"I only came over for bubble bath.." she chuckled, her head laid back against the arm of the sofa as she caught her breath.

"My bath's probably still warm, might as well jump in with me?" He offered.

"No funny business in there, I think I need a breather..."

"Better make it a quick bath then. You're not leaving this apartment tonight. Or this weekend, in fact."

#cillian x oc #cillian x smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x smut

[dingdongitsbees]

Hi, i was thinking of Attack on castes and i really like the idea of janitor levi, wannabe Hitch and so, would you write a one history teacher Erwin x lawyer reader, where she is friend to Frieda who is a teacher in the school asked her to pick Historia up for her and that's when Erwin sees her for the first time and immediately fell for her.... Hope you can accept it

offer up your heart

↪ WC: 3.3k ↪ Ao3 Link ↪ Genre: fluff, light-hearted, soft

Attack on Castes for those who haven’t read it! (it’s the reason some characters may seem oc)

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You were already late and by god did you not want to be there. You were glad to leave high school behind you when you graduated, promising yourself to never set foot in one ever again. Gossip, bullies, shitty teachers, stupid drama and a mind crushing amount of work. Sure, good things too, but nothing that couldn’t be found in the adult world.

In the adult world you got adventures. You got to fight to bring people the justice they deserved, their livelihood in your hands. They offered up their hearts begging you to save them. It gave you purpose. Whether or not they shed tears of grief or joy would be for you to decide. Nothing quite came close.

Or that’s how you would have felt if your current client wasn’t being such an annoying little shit. He had lied to your face with three wildly conflicting stories about what happened, and then when he got cross-examined by the prosecutor, he decided to go completely off script and implicate himself even further for something he didn’t even do.

The evidence against him were fables and rumours at best but he had begun to make it look plausible through his shifty character. You would get the “not guilty” verdict at the end of the trial, but you were going to have ripped out most of your hair by then.

When you were busy screaming in your hands during the intermission, your friend Frieda rang you and asked you to pick up her younger sister from school because their bastard of a father surely wasn’t going to. You nearly yelled at her then.

Frieda had done favour after favour for you in the past years with your insanely busy and gruelling schedule, so refusing the one time she asked for something in return would put you up with the likes of your client. You agreed, for some reason not asking what time, and then promptly forgot about it.

So there you were, heels clicking rapidly against the school’s hallway, the oranges hues of the sunset streaming through windows and the entrance. You really should have asked for Historia’s number, though you weren’t sure if the girl would bother to reply.

Historia was the epitome of “I think I will cause problems on purpose” simply because she’s bored. To be fair, you couldn’t really blame her, you had no such positive attitude towards school either, but with her being at the top of the pecking order she had the ability to make those problems quite substantial. Freida’s hair was probably going to go grey soon.

You thanked any god that would listen that she had cheerleading practice or you might have genuinely cried. The amount of stress that blonde girl was putting you through simply because she refused to take the bus home was nearly unparalleled.

You looked around the school, each corridor breaking off into another. The same basic lockers and same ceiling lights, same everything. You were fucking lost.

You jogged down some corridors hoping to find someone, turning your head frantically, letting you slam full force into something hard, tall and…blond?

 .

Erwin may love being a teacher but my lord did it get tedious sometimes. He loved the younger ones, brimming with hopes, dreams and potential. Though nearly all of them seemed to be misusing it, putting it on the backburner or simply didn’t care. Kids were good but they certainly could be better. Of course, there’d be the standout kids like Armin and Marco who took their schooling seriously and asked questions that allowed him to gush about things that weren’t just on the set curriculum. But what he would give so all of them were that engaged…

He just wanted them to offer their hearts to him, to trust him and put faith in the information he was giving forward. History is something, that he believed at least, was unparalleled in its importance. You learn from the mistakes done by the generations before you, using the knowledge to guide the current decisions needed to be made. On top of that it just let you understand the world around you; how it came to be and your place within it. History was unparalleled in its importance.

That’s why he was still at the school, marking very obviously last-minute written essays, so he could give them back with thorough annotations and advice that he was sure most of them wouldn’t even glance at.

He had popped off to the teacher’s lounge to get a cup of tea, and was making his way back, eyes glued to the swaying liquid as not to spill it, when a smaller figure came barrelling into him. He instinctually moved the tea away, not wanting the scalding water to hit this unfortunate stranger full in the face. Some of the brown liquid dripped to the floor, Levi would surely have his head for it later, but it was better than any burns.

When he was sure the tea was steady, he looked to the stranger on the ground.

He swore he saw a deity.

Erwin peered down at you in pure awe. Albeit being a bit dishevelled and frazzled, you were clearly a force to be reckoned with. Your pant suit was tailored to fit you perfectly, your heels matching your simple jewellery and watch, your hair which was now a little ruffled, was obviously put together with precision in the morning. You were immaculately put together.

And your face, your face. Everything was right where it needed to be in the exact size and proportion to everything else. It was like you had been perfectly carved for over a millennium by only the best sculptors available.

Your aura was something else. Even if he had found you in pyjamas, the power you would exude would be to the same effect. Something in the way your face shifted as thoughts flew across your mind, the way every bit of movement seemed controlled and purposeful. Erwin had read hundreds, maybe thousands of myths all around the world, and none of the gods in them had never been as ethereal as you.

You were the definition of a muse.

You on the other hand were trying to keep down your groans about your ankles as much as possible. Heels were a mistake enough to attempt to run in let alone fall in, god could this day get any…better? Oh no. He was hot.

You swallowed harshly as he looked down at you, tilting his head and eyes wide. You noticed the tea spilt in a little puddle behind him and felt a little guilty, but he seemed to pay it no mind, his piercing blue eyes only on you.

After a silent moment he offered his empty hand. You took it with a hasty thank you under your breath and gripped on. His hand was so warm, so steady, so comfortable to hold. The moment was over quicker than either of you wanted it to be.

You looked to the ground, smoothing down the ruffles in your clothes, some that existed and some that certainly didn’t, so you could reset yourself. You were not going to be flustered by the first man you saw outside of work though to be fair he would be a good reason to let that rule lay down. He was certainly a fine specimen.

You looked back up, coughing to clear your throat. His gaze was already glued to you, it hadn’t been torn off since the moment you bumped into him. His eyes didn’t even shift now you were staring into his. His mouth was slightly agape, his cheeks dusted pink, his eyebrows raised. You were getting nervous but wanted to know what was going on in that head of his.

“Uh, hi…” you started, leaning your head to the side, “Didn’t mean to bump into you there, sorry for spilling your tea.”

He blinked.

“You’re…” he trailed off, having caught himself before he said something stupid. He coughed into his fist, finally looking away, the student poster about splitting atoms on the classroom becoming suddenly riveting. “Sorry, could I help you in anyway?”

You scratched the back of your head with a small smile and Erwin short circuited. “Yeah actually, I’m meant to be picking up a friend’s sister, but I got lost.”

“What’s the student’s name? I may be able to direct you?”

“Historia Reiss.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.”

It was no question that the girl would be infamous to teachers as well, the girl tended to make quite an impression. Hopefully she wouldn’t be rolling her eyes at you more than necessary when you finally found her.

“Miss Reiss is likely at the gym.” He pointed down a corridor, the one you had come from.

You opened your mouth and closed it again, you would probably get lost again but you couldn’t convince yourself that’s why you asked the next question. “Sorry, do you think you walk me there?”

A colourful array of curses flew through your mind as he stilled, a deer in the headlights. You were about to apologise for being a bother and go on your way when his face brightened to an almost blinding degree and his eyes crinkled with his accompanying smile.

“It would be my pleasure.”

The walk started in silence for a few moments as you both scrambled for something to talk about.

“So um,” you said, “What do you teach here? You are a teacher, right? Not just some random guy taking advantage of the tea?”

He was already panicking being in the vicinity of you, so he almost didn’t pick up your teasing tone. The fact you were making fun of him just made his heart hammer even harder.

“I can confirm I’m not some stranger, to this school at least.” His added smile made your heart skip a beat; you should sue him. “I teach history here, but I won’t burden you with the specifics.”

“Do.”

“Pardon?”

“Burden me with the specifics. The teaching path wasn’t for me, but I admire those who followed it,” you sent a smile of your own back, “Plus, you seem like the kind of guy to know your stuff. You look like a passionate teacher. I wish there were more of those when I went to school.”

He took a second to compose himself, you being very cruel to him right now. He’d known you for approximately two minutes, but you were making it increasingly difficult for him to not declare his inevitable love right then and there.

“Oh well um,” he stumbled over his words, trying to string a few sentences together that would be worthy of your time. His hands were already extended, ready to add a visual focus. “War is quite an obvious favourite to go to, but I’ve always been more interested in the things that went on behind the scenes, the life of soldiers and nurses who lost their lives, the lives of those who stayed behind, anyone trying to look for peaceful solutions. Those have always interested me more. And then going far past the world and civil wars of the past three centuries, going back to when England and France were nowhere near the superpowers they became, and of course focusing all around the world. Europe has honestly been pretty lacklustre with their stories compared to everywhere else.”

He looked back to you, half-expecting you to be twiddling your thumbs, but your sight hadn’t moved. Your eyes were wide and bright like the ones he had seen in Armin and Marco except with an added adult understanding and perspective. This was quite unfair on his heart.

He turned his head down a corridor, taking the opportunity to calm down his heated cheeks. Really quite unfair.

“So what do you do?” He tried his best to make the words come out as smooth as he hoped. You didn’t seem to take notice that they didn’t.

“I’m a lawyer, so definitely a different world from yours.” Your laugh was awe-inspiring, he wished it were his morning alarm. There was no way he could come to hate it.

“It suits you,” he noted. It made perfect sense, everything about you commanded attention, thinking about you controlling a court room was easy to picture.

You sputtered out a few sounds, not sure if they were sophisticated enough to be called words and looked down a corridor as you passed, trying to figure out what the angry looking janitor was thinking about instead of what your brain was. This man was having quite the effect on you, and it wasn’t even his looks! Rude!

“Thank you, assuming that’s a compliment.”

Erwin simply nodded, not wanting to let you be privy to his thought processes right then. He would never recover.

“What area do you work in if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Currently represent for murder and manslaughter cases, anything that usually ended up with a person dead or nearly dead.”

A different world from yours indeed.

“I imagine that’s quite intense.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “The paperwork numbs a lot of it, honestly most of my clients aren’t any different from students.”

“I’d hope not.”

“You’d be surprised. Some of those annoying kids in school tend to keep being annoying, annoying enough to land themselves as a suspect for a murder case.”

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about you intimidating a client into submission and to just listen to you and let you take the reins. He would like to see that. He may possibly want to be subjected to it if he was in the right mood. He towered over you, but he would fall to his knees in a second if you told him to as a joke. He hoped that was a wild exaggeration done by his brain, but he knew most things come from a semblance of truth.

You really were something else.

You couldn’t believe you were talking to someone like him. He seemed so self-assured and at one with the flow of life, not needing to seek more to find contentment. He clearly loved his job as much as you loved yours, both acknowledging the downsides but knew it was worth it in the end.

He seemed to be taking up more and more of your brain as he continued to talk, only adding to the list of positives, there hadn’t seemed to be any negatives yet. You were concerned that there didn’t seem to be any. From his looks to his personality to the way he held himself, it was honesty too good to be true. Right?

When he looked at you, your cheeks would burn, and you’d feel like you were in high school all over again. That was one of the things you had forgotten, although small, they had been of the good parts about school. Crushes had always been a little fun.

But the way his lips pulled into an easy smile should be illegal. You could deal with murderers, not this. If he was ever on the stand in court, you would be a stuttering mess when trying to cross-examine him.

As you two kept talking, you’d take turns left and right, seemingly with no real reason. You were pretty sure you had seen those maths posters before, but you didn’t mention it. You were plenty happy to let this be dragged out a little longer. You were flattered to say the least.

Erwin knew that he couldn’t “trick” you without you noticing eventually, he couldn’t do that to save his life, but he also knew that if you had caught on to his little game, you would mention it if you wanted him to stop. That fact made his chest flutter, though perhaps it probably was time to take you where you needed to go so you didn’t have your friend yelling at you. He wasn’t that cruel.

The sound of cheers reached your eyes, your shoulders deflated. Guess this is it then. The gym doors came into sight and you could spot the cheerleaders practicing their formations through the open door. They all looked exhausted, so it was probably near the end by now.

Against the wall you could see Historia’s “friends” watching and applauding whenever Historia so as much breathed. No wonder she got bored.

Your feet came to a stop, just outside the entrance and you looked up to him. He shifted slightly, unsure of what to say.

“Thank you um…” you said before your eyes few open, “Holy- I can’t believe I didn’t get your name?”

He chuckled, deep and clear. “Erwin, Erwin Smith.”

You gave your name to his and his lips mouthed around it silently, feeling the shape of all the letters. It made you a little flustered how earnestly he was printing it into his brain.

Neither of you moved, you didn’t want to go into the gym, and he didn’t want to leave. To put it simply, you were smitten with each other and it was embarrassingly obvious to everyone including the both of you.

The cheerleaders stopped, grabbing their bags and chugging down litre water bottles. Historia would snitch on you in an instant if she saw you hitting on her teacher, so it was time to depart.

“I guess this is it then…” You dragged out the sentence, still trying to stall.

“I suppose it is.”

“Thank you, I do mean it. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

He nodded, swallowing. “I guess I will. Have a pleasant evening, both you and Miss Reiss.”

You cracked a grin. “I can’t promise she will have one, but I know you definitely made my evening a good one. See you, Erwin.”

He smiled softly. “See you.”

He waved as he walked back through the corridors, he snuck a look over his shoulder when he had almost disappeared from view to find you still looking at him. Both of your faces burst into flames and you looked away from each other.

You took Historia home after she (mainly her friends) questioned why you were there instead of Frieda. Reiner, you believed his name was, offering to take her home as suavely as he could to be shot down so quickly by Historia you got whiplash. Her friends bid her dramatic goodbyes which she didn’t reply to, and you two made your way to the car.

“Were you talking to Mr Smith?” She didn’t even bother taking her eyes off of her phone to ask.

“I…I was. I got lots trying to find you so he helped me get to the gym.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He didn’t need to take you all the way there though.”

“He was…he was just being nice.”

She hummed, no emotion behind to hide whether or not it was full of doubt. You really didn’t want her to tell Frieda or you’d never live it down.

“I finally get your ass out of the court room and you flirt with the first guy you see? Bold as ever.”

Though maybe, just maybe, it meant you could offer to pick up Historia more often. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

Erwin made his way back to his desk and he plopped himself down on his chair with a sigh. He leant his head back to look at the ceiling, projecting the past minutes on the white ceiling.

He didn’t even ask for your number.

He cursed at himself and dragged a hand over his face before getting back to his mountain of paperwork. Perhaps it was too bold to offer up his heart this quickly.

But you had said “see you”, and maybe it was too much for him to assume, but usually that meant a second meeting was anticipated. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

His tea had gone cold, but that was alright. He had met a goddess that evening after all.  

.

.

.

a/n: to the person who sent this in sorry it took so long! this was my first time writing for Erwin so i hope it’s alright! thank you for reading :)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

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#erwin #erwin smith #erwin aot #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin x you #erwin smith x you #erwin x y/n #erwin smith x y/n #erwin snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on castes #historia #historia reiss

[aion-rsa]

Squid Game: Best of the Cast’s Shows and Movies to Watch

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This Squid Game article contains some spoilers, though not the outcome of the game.

There are so many things to like about Squid Game, Netflix‘s Korean-language series about a group of desperate people competing in a deadly game, but one of the major ones is the stellar cast. Featuring some well-known Korean actors, as well as some relative newcomers to the acting scene, Squid Game‘s ensemble is more than ready to elevate the clever script and sharp direction. If you’re interested in checking out other projects from this cast after finishing Squid Game, here are our recommendations!

Lee Jung-jae (이정재) as Seong Gi-hun

Squid Game character: Leading the cast of characters is Lee Jung-jae’s Gi-hun, a man who has fallen on tough times after losing his job and his marriage. We are first introduced to Gi-hun in the context of his gambling addiction, as he desperately trues to get out of crippling debt in order to be a better father, son, and friend.

What to watch next: Lee Jung-jae is a 48-year-old actor who began his career as a model before transitioning into TV and later film. Notable projects include Il Mare, the 2000 film on which Hollywood’s The Lake House was based and 2013’s historical drama The Face Reader, in which Lee has second-billing as Grand Prince Suyang.

Jung Ho-yeon (정호연) as Kang Sae-byeok

Squid Game character: Jung Ho-yeon plays Kang Sae-byeok (aka the one who looks like ENHYPEN’s Ni-ki), a North Korean defector who decides to play Squid Game in order to get the money to get her mother out of North Korea and to create a stable life for her younger brother, who is currently living in an orphanage.

What to watch next: Jung Ho-yeon will no doubt be one of the breakout stars of Squid Game. The 27-year-old actress is a successful model, and has previously appeared on Korea’s Next Top Model. Squid Game is her first on-screen role, so we’ll have to wait to see what she does next. In the meantime, you can rewatch Squid Game or check out Season 4 of Korea’s Next Top Model.

Park Hae-soo (박해수) as Cho Sang-woo

Squid Game character: Cho Sang-woo grew up with protagonist Gi-hun, and is the success story of his neighborhood after going to a prestigious university and making it big as a businessman. Unbeknownst to Gi-hun and Sang-woo’s mother, Sang-woo has stolen money from his clients and is wanted by the police. He enters Squid Game in an attempt to make back the money so that he can save his mother’s business and house, both of which he risked to back his illegal activities.

Read more

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What to watch next: Park Hae-soo is a 39-year-old actor who is perhaps previously best known, especially to international audiences, for his starring role in 2017’s Prison Playbook (one of our Best Korean Dramas to Watch on Netflix). In the drama, Park plays a baseball player who unexpectedly lands himself in jail days before his major league baseball debut. The show follows his life within prison, along with the lives of other inmates and guards, including his former best friend, who is now a corrections officer. Prison Playbook is one of the most popular K-dramas ever.

Wi Ha-joon (위하준) as Hwang Jun-ho

Squid Game character: Wi Ha-joon plays Hwang Jun-ho, who is a bit of an outlier character in a series that mostly features characters in the game as protagonists. Unlike Gi-hun or Sang-woo, Jun-ho is a cop who is investigating Squid Game after finding one of the game’s calling cards in his missing brother’s apartment. He does a pretty good job too, infiltrating the operation in diverse ways.

What to watch next: Wi is a 30-year-old actor with a solid filmography. If you’re a horror fan, check out Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum, a 2018 found footage horror film that takes place in the former Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital, considered to be one of Korea’s most-haunted places. You could also check out Midnight, a 2021 thriller in which Wi plays a serial killer. If you’re looking for something a bit softer, Wi has a supporting role in 2018 romantic drama Something in the Rain, in which he stars as one protagonist’s younger brother and the other protagonist’s best friend.

Oh Young-soo (오영수) as Oh Il-nam

Squid Game character: Oh Young-soo plays Oh Il-nam, the oldest contestant in Squid Game, and someone Gi-hun feels some responsibility for as the game progresses.

What to watch next: Oh Young-soo is a 76-year-old actor with a filmography that mostly includes monk roles. His previous work has mostly included playing supporting roles, but if you want to see him in something else, check out 2003 feature film A Little Monk, about a generation of three monks living in one temple, or Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring, a 2003 film about the life of a Buddhist monk.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Heo Sung-tae as Jang Deok-su

Squid Game character: Heo Sung-tae plays Jang Deok-su, a gangster who enters Squid Game to settle his gambling debts, and who refuses to trust anyone in the process.

What to watch next: Heo Sung-tae is a 43-year-old actor with an extensive filmography. If you’d like to see him in a very different project, check out Racket Boys, a recent Netflix K-drama in which he appears as the coach of a boys badminton team in Episodes 10-12. If you’d like to see him in another dastardly role, check out 2021’s Beyond Evil, in which he plays a cold-blooded businessman.

Kim Joo-ryung (김주령) as Han Mi-nyeo

Squid Game character: Kim Joo-ryung stars as Han Mi-nyeo, a woman who will say or do whatever she has to in order to find her best chance at winning. Originally introduced claiming to be a new mother, we never actually learn that much about Mi-nyeo’s life outside of the game.

What to watch next: Kim Joo-ryung is a 45-year-old actress with an extensive filmography, though mostly in supporting roles. (Hopefully, her impressive turn in Squid Game will lead to more opportunities for the actress.) If you’d like to see her in a minor role in a successful drama, Kim appears in Episodes 16 and 17 of 2018 historical drama Mr. Sunshine. If you’d like to see Kim in a central role, check out 2012 feature Sleepless Night, in which she plays one half of a married couple working to get through daily life.

Tripathi Anupam as Abdul Ali

Squid Game character: Tripathi Anupam plays Ali, a 33-year-old Pakistani man who joins the game in order to get the money to support his family, including his parents and brother back in Pakistan and his wife and baby son, who traveled with him to Korea.

What to watch next: Tripathi Anupam is a 32-year-old Indian-born actor, who is another standout in Squid Game and a rare actor of non-Korean descent in the Korean TV and film industry. Anupam had a small appearance in Netflix’s Korean sci-fi feature Space Sweepers, in which he appeared as James Sullivan’s secretary. Most of Anupam’s previous roles have been minor, with Squid Game being a breakout role for the actor.

Lee Yoo-mi (이유미) as Ji-yeong

Squid Game character: Lee Yoo-mi plays Ji-yeong, a young woman who we find out entered the game immediately after having been released from prison for the crime of killing her abusive father. She becomes close with Sae-byeok, who recruits her to join her team for tug-of-war.

What to watch next: Lee Yoo-mi is a 27-year-old actress who has appeared in many TV shows and films, mostly in supporting roles. If you’d like to see her in another drama, check out 365: Repeat the Year, a time travel drama that sees 10 people given the chance to travel back a year to “reset” their lives, only to find themselves in danger.

Gong Yoo (공유) as The Salesman

Squid Game character: Gong Yoo appears in a minor role as The Salesman, aka the man who recruits Gi-hun into Squid Game by playing a game of ddakji with him on the subway

What to watch next: Gong Yoo is a very successful actor in Korea who is also known internationally. The 42-year-old actor’s most well-known movie role is Train To Busan, in which he stars as the divorced father and businessman protagonist trying to escape the zombie apocalypse on a high-speed bullet train. His most well-known TV role is in the uber successful Guardian: The Lonely and Great God, one of the highest-rated dramas in Korean TV history. In it, he stars as a 939-year-old immortal goblin and protector of souls. Longtime K-drama stans, however, probably know Gong from his starring role in Coffee Prince, a romance about a woman pretending to be a girl in order to get work and a young food empire mogul, played by Gong.

Lee Byung-hun as The Front Man, aka In-ho

Squid Game character: Lee Byung-hun plays the Front Man, aka the masked man who runs the day-to-day operations of Squid Game. He lives in a fancy apartment within the game’s facility, and maintains contact with the game’s supervisors via a landline.

What to watch next: If you’re looking to see more of Lee Byung-hun’s face than Squid Game offers, then you have a lot of options. The 51-year-old actor and singer has been a part of the Korean entertainment industry for decades, and has been one of the most successful Korean actors in that time, with five films on the 50 highest-grossing domestic films in South Korea list: Joint Security Area; The Good, the Bad, the Weird; Masquerade; Inside Men; and Master.

Lee is the only Squid Game actor to have some substantial Hollywood credits on his filmography as well. American audiences may recognize him from his role as Storm Shadow in the G.I. Joe franchise; he has also appeared in Red 2, Terminator Genisys, and The Magnificent Seven. A member of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, he was the first South Korean to present an Oscar at the Academy Awards.

Which Squid Game cast member were you the most impressed by? Let us know in the comments below…

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[woogyu]

A World Tinted Gold | Mingyu; Chapter Two

Kalon; beauty that is more than skin-deep

streamer!y/n x werewolf!mingyu

notes; werewolf au

word count; 1749

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summary; The only werewolves you encountered were the ones living inside your video games. They were nothing more to you than mythical creatures you often had to kill in order to complete objectives. You had a good thing going with your online gaming setup. Your supporters were kind and usually tipped well during streams. Sure it meant you had to deal with the occasional creep sliding into your DMs, but it was worth it. Playing games online was putting you through college. Little did you know your quiet life was about to be turned upside down at the hands of someone you didn’t think existed outside of the virtual world.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Are you seriously watching that steamer again? Why don’t you just play the games yourself?” Seungcheol questioned as he stepped into Mingyu’s room, chuckling as the younger wolf quickly turned around and blushed.

“It’s not the same… I’m not really interested in the games, I’m interested in her” Mingyu admitted sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so transfixed, but he had a hard time tearing his eyes from the screen. Hell, just the other day when you read his comment aloud, he was over the moon.

“It’s rare for you to show interest in a girl at all” Seungcheol remarked, eyebrow pulled up in question. Until a wolf found its mate there was little reason to get involved with or show interest in others romantically. There were of course some wolves that preferred being unmated; it allowed them to be explorative with their romantic partners. Not all wolves longed to find their mate, and not all wolves would end up finding their mates. He knew destiny had a hand to play in it all, but the thought of never finding who he was supposed to be with made the wolf in him whine. Mingyu wasn’t an unmated wolf that enjoyed exploring his options, he was desperately waiting for the day he met his mate. Right now, Mingyu wasn’t sure if he was simply lonely or if there was something more going on.

“There is just something about her…” Mingyu started, pausing for a second to find the right words, “I just have a hard time tearing my eyes away from the screen. There is something about her that just draws me in” Mingyu explained. He wasn’t doing a very good job at explaining the feelings that bubbled up inside him when he saw you on screen. When he tried to explain it he could never quite describe the feeling that settled over his chest and body, it was a warmth almost like a subtle glow within him.

Seungcheol didn’t comment on it any further as he moved into the room and crossed his arms over his chest. Mingyu knew better than to ignore the alpha, closing his laptop he turned to face Seungcheol fully. Their pack had a different dynamic than most. Normally a thirteen-member pack would be impossible because of the strain it put on the head alpha. It worked for them because while Seungcheol was their main alpha, they had two secondary alphas, Jihoon and Soonyoung. The three of them shared the work of looking after the group and it worked perfectly for them. He liked that the alphas didn’t abuse their power, there was a lot of lenience in the pack and it made for less confrontations.

“Joshua has to head into town tonight and won’t be able to run the perimeter. Would you be alright with doing it?” Seungcheol asked, pursing his lips as he looked down at the younger wolf. Mingyu normally enjoyed running the perimeter, it meant he got to shift and stretch his body, but this time he was a little bit more hesitant with his answer. Mingyu knew that later on tonight you would have a new video posted and he would have to wait even longer to watch it. It seemed like a silly reason, but his heart ached at the thought of not being able to ‘see’ you on screen until early tomorrow morning.

“Sure! I don’t mind” Mingyu answered with a half-smile, Seungcheol never asked him for much so he figured he could help him out with this. Seungcheol breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back against the wall.

“Thank you, I didn’t really want to be the one stuck doing it again” Seungcheol admitted, the alpha had been on perimeter duty for the past 3 nights and must have been eager for a good night’s sleep. Mingyu smiled and nodded his head a few times, his own wants would just have to be paused for a little while.

Before leaving the room Seungcheol patted him on the shoulder, yawning a little bit as he headed toward what Mingyu assumed was his own room. Mingyu was thankful that Seungcheol’s parents had left him their families pack house. Coming from a family of alpha’s certainly had its perks, and it meant they all got their own rooms.

Once Seungcheol was gone he checked the time, he had roughly 4 hours before he would have to head out.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I just don’t understand what this trend is supposed to be” you complained to Ciri for probably the 20th time over your video call. Apparently, there was a trend going around among streamers to recreate video games in real life. You hadn’t thought much of it when it first gained popularity, but now Ciri thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to join in on it. Her big plan was a two-part video where the two of you recreated iconic aspects of the Witcher 3 video game. You should have known she would want to do it, she already owned a Cirilla cosplay.

“It’s going to be fun” Ciri reminded you, drawing out the last syllable as she drew a fake scar along her face, effectively transforming herself into the iconic video game character.

“Come on, I even sent you the Yennefer cosplay and everything!” she exclaimed, using her make up brush to point at the camera accusingly. You rolled your eyes as you reached up to adjust the dark black wig that you now wore. To her credit, Ciri had sent you everything you would need to transform yourself into Yennefer of Vengerberg. How she somehow guessed your sizing right you would have no idea. Probably the Witcher powers.

“I wish we lived in the same city” you sighed, leaning your head back and looking up at the ceiling. Things would be so much easier if you and Ciri, and the other girls, didn’t live so far away from one another. But that was the price you paid for finding your friends online.

“Me too” Ciri said with a gentle sigh, setting her make up tools down and picking up her phone, her face coming into full view.

“I sent you the script, I won’t be able to stay on the call with you while we are filming because data rates are crazy, but I know you’ll do amazing” Ciri said with a reassuring smile. You would have to film all of this on your own, which was just a little bit intimidating. Ciri’s script mostly just directed you to do a lot of handwaving and she would add in the ‘magic’ elements later.

“Just find a good spot in the woods and it’ll be perfect” Ciri finished with a nod of her head. You sighed, straightening yourself up and looking down at your phone.

“I’ll call you later on when I’m finished to send you the video” you mumbled, pouting a little bit as you stood and picked up your phone.

“Good luck!” Ciri told you, waving a little bit before ending the call. Great, now you actually had to go do it…

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were lucky there was quite a bit of woods around where you lived, the problem was going to be trying to get to the woods without anyone seeing the ridiculous clothes you were wearing. You threw on a huge coat, effectively covering up most of the costume. After grabbing the bag with your equipment, you ventured outside, keeping your head down as you walked to avoid drawing attention.

Twenty minutes later you were standing in the middle of a beautiful calm forest. Now that you were here you questioned why you didn’t come out here more often. You couldn’t hear the loud noises that came with living in a bustling city and the air felt fresh on your face. Once you reached a small clearing by a river you laid your things down and took a deep breath, basking in the coolness of the air. Maybe this trend wouldn’t be so bad.

After setting up your camera in a place you were at least half sure wouldn’t result in it falling over, you walked into frame and took a deep breath. You briefly checked your phone to see what Ciri’s notes asked of you, before you began doing your best to follow directions. Your portion of the video wouldn’t be long, but you did re-film it 4 times to try and get your motions to be less stiff.

After forty-five minutes of waving your arms around, you walked back to your camera, picking it up before taking a seat on a nearby log. Reviewing the footage, you winced at how awkward it looked, you seriously hoped that Ciri could work some magic on this because you didn’t have it in you to film it again.

The forest around you was darkening as the day began to draw to a close, but you couldn’t bring yourself to head back right away. The forest was too peaceful and serene. Reaching up you pulled your wig off, stuffing it in your bag as you sighed with relief. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing in on the sounds of nature around you. Maybe coming to the woods would become a weekly thing for you, like therapy.

A low deep growl broke you out of your trance, your eyes flying open and flickering around to find the source. Your heart hammered against your chest, and your whole body stiffened in fear. A few moments later a dark black wolf emerged from the trees, larger than any wolf you had seen on tv. You could vaguely see blood dripping from its muzzle, and its dark red eyes were focused right on you.

It paused at the edge of the clearing, its lips pulling back to reveal sharp blood-stained teeth. Your breath came quick as you leaned back, unsure if you should run or try and hide behind the log. Both seemed unhelpful in this current situation, but you were really low on options.

The wolf’s body tensed before springing toward you. Your hands instinctively grabbed whatever was nearest to you, which happened to be your very expensive camera, and threw it toward the wolf. This did nothing to deter the predator from its prey, and within seconds the beast was on you.

#seventeen werewolf #werewolf!seventeen #werewolf!mingyu #seventeen x reader #ultkpop #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #kim mingyu #Werewolf!AU #werewolf!svt #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #seventeen mingyu

[moiraineswife]

Mine - A Navani/Raboniel Fic

IT’S TIME FOR THE GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY. 

Title: Mine

Rating: M  Content warnings: Violence. Sexy violence. But still violence.

Summary:  Set during Rhythm of War. THEORETICALLY it’s canon-compliant. Just gayer. After several failed attempts, The Pursuer sends men to bring him Navani, believing Kaladin will come to the Queen’s aid if she’s in danger. Raboniel takes issue with this, and refuses to allow them to take Navani.

Teaser: ‘“You will tell him that Navani is mine. If he may claim that Windrunner, then I claim her. He will not touch her. He will not send men to take her from me. He will not so much as think of her or utter her name without my knowledge and consent. She is mine, and I will send every one of his worthless soldiers back to Braize screaming if that is what it takes to make that known throughout this tower.”’

Link: AO3

It had been a long time since Navani had studied by candlelight. 

Glowing gemstones had ruled her life for so long now. Woven into her hair as a symbol of status in Gavilar’s court. 

Counting spheres as the cost of conquest had piled on her shoulders as her husband had drunk, and killed, and warred his way to glory, with no idea what she did in the background to prevent his fledgling kingdom suffering economic and social collapse in the wake of his passing. 

Powering the fabrials that had brought her such joy and fulfilment, a constant support in her life. 

Now the Stormlight that fueled the Radiants as most of her family was pulled into this war. 

Raboniel preferred to work by candlelight. She said it soothed her, and reminded her of days when she’d been younger. Stormlight had not been plentiful for Fused in eras gone by. Odium had disapproved of it surrounding them, and Voidlight was a poor source of illumination. 

Navani had to admit they brought a certain warmth to the small room she was ensconced in with Raboniel. They were alone together now, as Raboniel had just dismissed the guards, who had been visibly wilting, and told them to send a replacement team down to them instead. 

There was no sound save the soft scratching of their pens on the notebook between them. Raboniel was studying her latest addition, making small, careful notations in the women’s script. 

One could tell a lot about another’s script, Navani felt. Jasnah’s for example, was pristine, a perfect example of the women’s script, honed over much time. Dalinar’s was less practiced, with large, bold lines, each word somehow making its own statement upon the page. 

Raboniel’s was sharper than Navani’s, more cramped. This was to be expected, given her unfamiliarity with it, but she wrote curiously, each spike and line written with a differing pressure or firmness, to a rhythm, she realised. Right now that rhythm was frantic, her eyes focused, entirely consumed by the work.

Navani understood that feeling. Like Raboniel, she had been many things to many people over her years. Mother, mentor, wife, queen. For herself, she was a scholar. Yes. A scholar. It was still sometimes difficult to ignore the words whispered in Gavilar’s voice at the back of her mind that told her she was nothing herself. Always defined by what she was to, and what she could get from, others. 

Raboniel had helped her see things differently. This was who she was. Navani. Not Queen Navani. Not Brightness Kholin. Just Navani. Navani was a creator, an inventor, a scholar, a pursuer of secrets, and she thrived in this environment. 

She felt the same way about Raboniel. 

She was many things to many people as well. A mother, certainly, even now that Essu was dead, by her own hand, she would never stop being a mother. A soldier, and a war leader. A servant of Odium. An immortal Fused reborn. A Voidbringer, in the minds of many humans. 

Raboniel, however, not the Lady of Pains, the Lady of Wishes, Ancient One, or General, just Raboniel was as Navani was: a scholar. She too thrived on this. She had ulterior motives, certainly, Navani had already seen several of them. 

Yet even without them, she felt sure she would be driven, as Navani was herself, by the question, the seeking, the taste of new knowledge, the thrill of uncovering things that had been buried for millenia, of cracking puzzles buried in the very fabric of their world that no-one had ever cracked before. 

In her heart, in the deepest, most fundamental fabric of her soul, Raboniel was a scholar. And in that way, mortal and immortal, Fused and human, their essence was the same. And it sang in harmony with one another in these moments, cloistered alone together, picking out the mysteries of ages gone by. 

It was a strangely intimate process. Navani had always worked in groups before. She had flitted between ardents and engineers and storm wardens like an insect pollinating flowers, bringing little bits of insight or inspiration, but never lingering with any. 

With this project, she had worked exclusively with Raboniel, for hours and hours at a time. They had only had one another to feed off of and consume with their theories, and thoughts, and ideas, and experiments. 

She felt as though she knew this woman, felt as though she connected with her, in a way she had rarely done with another human so swiftly. 

She adored the bones of Dalinar, she truly did. But it had taken a while to understand him. Part of the reason she had taken such time between Gavilar and Dalinar in their youth was that it took her a while to feel she knew a person, and was close enough to commit to them. 

How wrong she had been, in mistaking Gavilar’s mask for the truth of him. While she had missed the good heart buried beneath the layers of scar tissue Dalinar had hidden it behind all those years ago. 

Raboniel, though, she felt she knew her, knew her, beneath the blood and bones, straight to the soul, the moment they had first worked on Rhythm of War together, and she had looked into her eyes, and found that same bright, consuming, almost manic light gleaming in them that lived within her, too. 

With a small nod, her rhythm shifting to one of satisfaction, Raboniel pushed the notebook back towards Navani, gesturing her to the new notes that had been made in the Fused’s hand. 

As she bent to examine it, however, Raboniel sat up beside her, straight and intent, head turning towards the door. The way she sat when they were not alone, when she was a regal Fused, not a scholar. 

Navani turned, too, and found six of the Pursuer’s Fused soldiers standing in the doorway. 

Raboniel did not seem surprised. If anything she seemed...Resigned. 

Navani was not overly aware of the situation in the tower, but she knew that tension between the Pursuer and Raboniel’s calmer, more reasonable rule were straining. Especially as his hunt for Kaladin continued to refuse to bear fruit.  

Raboniel stood, and a power seemed to radiate from her, as if she were a perfect gemstone, containing an immortality’s worth of stormlight pulsing within. 

She was rather impressed that the soldiers didn’t turn and flee at once, as Raboniel reached her height and stared them down without a flicker of fear, despite being outnumbered six to one.  

“Our master has sent us,” the lead soldier said, red eyes gleaming as they flickered from Raboniel to Navani, still sat at the desk behind Raboniel, who suddenly felt like a shield against that hungry gaze. 

“I thought that he might,” Raboniel replied, her rhythm becoming dark and tempestuous. 

“Then you know why we are here, Lady of Wishes,” said another, taking a step forwards, “This can be resolved without any bloodshed.” 

Bloodshed? Navani felt herself growing cold. On some instinct, she picked up the Rhythm of War notebook and began to try to surreptitiously move to the back of the room. Putting as much distance between herself and these men seemed the most sensible course of action now. 

One of them noticed her, and began to hum in a loud, derisive rhythm, jeering, “See how it runs. The fear is obvious! She knows she is pursued.” 

Pursued? They were here for her? 

Raboniel glanced over her shoulder, long hair strands swishing around her like a cape as she did. She gave Navani a small nod, telling her she had done the right thing. 

“Do not fear such as these, Navani,” she said, her rhythm soft but strong, pulsing against Navani, almost strengthening her, “They do not warrant any reaction from yourself.” 

“It is true, then?” the lead soldier said, his rhythm scathing, his tone far bolder than any she had heard taken with Raboniel before, “You have grown fond of his human pet of yours, and it has made you weak, sucked the passion from you and put it into her instead.” 

Raboniel actually growled at him, her rhythm becoming dark and dangerous, Voidlight collecting around her hand as she stared the soldier down, “Do not forget yourself, Devail,” she said, her rhythm an angry, swirling snarl of sound. “I am not some common Fused like Lezian, and if you speak to me in such a way again you will regret it for the rest of your pathetic immortal existence, I swear to you.” 

Navani trembled and the words were not even directed at her. The soldier took a step backwards, humming softly in a rhythm of apology. As well he might. 

Raboniel took a breath, and looked at each of the men in turn, giving them a long, piercing look, “Is this something you truly wish to do?” she asked them quietly. 

“We’re under orders, Lady of Wishes,” the lead soldier said, “We’re not to use violence as a primary method of achieving those orders, but the Pursuer expects resistance. In that case, he says we are to achieve our goal at all costs.” 

Raboniel hummed a sharp, destructive rhythm, “You would raise your weapons against me, truly?” 

Oh Stormfather, Navani thought, trembling. This could turn ugly, well and truly. Raboniel was a competent warrior, she was sure, but she was primarily a scholar, thinker, and organiser, from what Navani had seen. The Pursuer’s men were among the most finely trained, as brutal and bloodthirsty as their master. 

“We would take up arms against one who tried to defend a human, Lady of Wishes,” the soldier said again, his rhythm respectful, but firm. 

Raboniel shook his head, “Lezian is a fool,” she hissed, “What does he possibly wish to accomplish with the queen that could be more than what I have accomplished with her?” 

“He will use her to lure his prize,” the soldier Raboniel had named Devail said, an indecent hunger in his eyes as he once again looked past Raboniel to Navnai, cowering on the floor behind them, feeling like a hog in a pen at a slaughter market beneath that gaze. 

“The Pursuer believes he can use the queen to draw forth Stormblessed,” the lead soldier said, “He would of course come to the defence of his queen were she threatened.” 

“Or publicly executed,” Devail added, with a gleeful grin. 

Navani quivered. She had rarely felt so helpless. She held the Rhythm of War against her chest, as though it could do anything to help her. She had no weapons, not even her customary painrial. She was tired, and weak, and fragile. 

If Raboniel gave her over to these men there would be nothing she could do to stop it. 

“He thinks to set an ambush for the Windrunner, using something the man will seek to defend to draw him to a place of contest, does he?” Raboniel asked, and her rhythm sounded strangely amused. Perhaps Navani could not read her correctly. 

“You are wise as ever Lady of Wishes,” the lead Fused said, with a small bow of the head, “This is indeed his intention.” 

“And why should it work this time when he has failed twice already, with far more fixed and defensible locations at the shield points?” Raboniel demanded scornfully. 

Devial took an angry step forwards but, wisely, his commander restrained him. 

“I will not relinquish an asset to him for the sake of his wounded, failing pride,” Raboniel continued derisively, “Navani is of far more use to me than Lezian could ever fathom to put her to in his wildest moment of clarity and intelligence.” 

“We are under orders, Lady,” the lead soldier said, “Our master was quite...Insistent.” 

“And you think I cannot be equally so?” Raboniel said, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning. “Return to your master and tell him that he has no authority to issue me with orders in this tower, or anywhere. Tell him he should count himself lucky I do not escalate this insult and return him to Braize, screaming. And tell him that if he wants to request something of me in future, then I expect him to pay me the respect I am due and come himself.” 

With that, she turned her back on them, as though done with them. Navani had to clap her safehand to her mouth to stop herself uttering a warning. It seemed so foolhardy for Raboniel to put her back to these men. 

The tension inside her was vibrating like a lost tone. She could barely breathe for the pressure of it welling inside her. Her eyes flicked up towards Raboniel’s face and found it wearing a soft, reassuring smile. 

“This was not an option our master will allow us to pursue, lady,” the lead soldier said, quietly. 

The Fused behind him drew their weapons, holding them in distinctly aggressive postures. 

Raboniel sighed heavily and turned slowly back to face them. 

“Perhaps I was not clear enough, captain,” she said, her voice quiet and dangerous, “I am giving you this chance to return to your master and have him confront me himself. Take it.”  

“I cannot, lady,” he said, shaking his head, “We were prepared for this eventuality, our master-” 

“If your master wishes so much for me to bleed him,” Raboniel growled, “Then perhaps he can cease being so cowardly and face me himself.” 

Devial made a noise of outrage at that, and several of the others hummed to an angry rhythm. “He already has his prey!” one of them called, “It would break centuries of tradition were he to pursue another before he has claimed the life of the Windrunner.”  

“What a convenient excuse,” Raboniel said scathingly. 

“We have no quarrel with you, lady,” the lead soldier interrupted, “We only want the queen.” 

“Then that is your quarrel with me, captain,” Raboniel snapped, “Navani is mine. As I have made clear to your master, and indeed to all who reside in this tower. If you wish to harm her, or indeed remove her from this room without my authority, then there will be a quarrel.” 

Navani felt almost breathless, as Raboniel glowered down at these men, heavily armoured, ancient, powerful, returned over and over to kill. And she stood her ground and stared them down to protect her. 

A part of her wanted to protest, wanted to stop this hopeless fight before it began. Raboniel being killed might have once been a desirable outcome, but her honour in this moment would not allow the woman to get herself killed protecting Navani, when the outcome would be the same. 

Yet these men terrified her. She did not want to leave this safe, quiet, candlelit room, her books, her scholarship, her safety that she enjoyed with Raboniel. 

She stayed quiet. Cowardly. And watched with wide eyes. 

“Then a quarrel it shall be,” the captain said, sounding resigned, but not altogether surprised. 

They had expected this? They had expected Raboniel to stubbornly face her death rather than simply handing Navani over? 

“Then come, quarrel with me,” Raboniel said in a dangerous hiss, drawing twin blades from her hips as she spoke, “And do make it quick, captain, I have work I must yet attend to tonight. 

There was a moment. A single, eternal moment that hung in silence for a cluster of frantic heartbeats. Like the breath of calm and quiet before the full force of the stormwall was brought to bear upon the world. 

Raboniel and the Pursuer’s men faced one another, Raboniel crouched low in an offensive stance, the men standing in a furious formation, weapons drawn, carapace gleaming, the flickering candlelight casting deadly shadows across their inhuman faces. 

Navani cowered in her corner and whispered a soft prayer to the Almighty, hands clutched over her chest, wishing, absurdly, that she had a glyphward to burn. 

Then the stormwall hit, and Navani pressed herself back against the wall, as if she could push herself into it and escape the cacophony of death and violence that erupted around her like a highstorm. She felt vulnerable, exposed, tied out to bear it alone, with no shield against what was coming. 

Except that she was not alone. Raboniel stood in front of her, protective, a shield against the horrors that had come for her. 

The Pursuer’s men moved forwards in a tight formation and they seemed, absurdly, wary. Though they were six warriors against one scholar, they seemed to actually fear Raboniel. 

A heartbeat later, Navani understood why. 

The men came for her, but she did not wait for them. In a single bound, she crossed the distance between them, and landed in their midst, blades flashing, teeth bared, hair flying like a banner behind her. 

Navani gasped as both of her blades - thinner, and shorter, than a common lighteyes side sword, pierced both eyes of a Fused in the centre of the group. He went down with her landing on his chest, like a mink atop a thrashing rat, his flailing limbs knocking into his companions and sowing chaos in their tight formation. 

Raboniel grinned a feral, dangerous smile at the others around her, then leapt, yanking her blades from the corpse of the Fused beneath her, and scraping along the carapace of the men before her. 

The noise it made was awful, and Navani clapped her hands to her ears. The scraping, shrieking sounded like a dirge of death, and the men around her flinched at the sound of it. 

This was clearly the reaction Raboniel had anticipated, for she sprang backwards out of the chaotic fray, putting her back once more to Navani, keeping herself carefully between her and the Pursuer’s men. 

She jerked her chin towards them, inviting them to come and take her if they could, and Navani felt a chill of understanding. 

In essence, this woman was like her. They were both scholars, driven by their passion for learning, for teasing the secrets from Roshar that it tried so hard to hide from them. But she was more. Far more. And one aspect of herself was this. 

The Lady of Pains. A Herald in her own right. A Herald of Death. Bearer of devastation and violence. A woman who held a sword as easily as she held a pen, and unravelled men with as much skill and precision as she unravelled secrets. 

She spun, both blades whirling through the air, flashing in the candlelight, casting terrible, dancing shadows against the walls. She caught another Fused in the throat and he stumbled, but Voidlight glowed from the wound, healing it. 

Before that could complete, she stepped in to him and rammed her blade, designed, Navani saw now, to pierce armour - or carapace - into his chest, and Navani heard the telltale crack as his gemheart shattered. 

A sword clattered against her back and she turned, snarling, blood flying from her blades, and parried the next swing that should have taken her head from her shoulders. She caught the blade between both of her own, crossed like a chasmfiend’s mandibles, and twisted, shattering the wrist of its bearer. 

He dropped the sword, screaming, and Raboniel moved in as though she might have kissed him, but breathed out, engulfing him in a cloud of blackness that began to devour his flesh while he howled in pain, clawing at it and writhing on the floor. 

Navani had thought herself a connoisseur of death. She had watched countless duels in her life, attended many wars. Her first husband had begun a war of conquest which had often spilled blood upon those closest to him. Her current husband waged a war for the world itself. Navani had seen the aftermath of battles, had even seen a few battles themselves. 

She had never seen anything like this. 

Raboniel moved faster than she would have believed, blades a silver blur, Voidlight rising from her skin as she swayed. 

Dalinar and Gavilar had been skilled. They had talent, practice, and shards to cause devastation. But this? This was an immortal who had been singing to a rhythm of war and death at Odium’s bidding from the moment she had drawn breath. 

She was like a shard all her own. Created to kill. She was like a highstorm, these men a foolish cry for it to quiet its winds, utterly lost to its fury and tempest. 

One of the men cracked the head of a spear against her shoulder and she turned, grasping at the staff. It crumbled to dust at her touch, but the blade remained intact. It fell, as if in slow motion, and she snatched and hurled it across the room, lodging it in the forehead of another who dropped instantly. 

The now weaponless man stared at her with eyes wide, full of fear, then full of nothing but death as Raboniel took both blades and rammed them, one on either side, into his chest, piercing directly to his gemheart. 

Pain flashed unexpectedly into Navani’s awareness. 

She looked down to find a knife slashing against her arm. A second later, it was at her neck, and she screamed, unable to stop herself, as Devial grabbed her and pulled her against him, blade held tight against her throat, sharp blade scraping the skin. 

Raboniel turned at once, locking on to the sound. She stumbled, as the captain struck her from behind. Without looking, her entire aspect focused on Navni, she whipped a knife from her belt and flung it behind her, narrowly missing the captain, who had to dance aside to avoid it. 

“Enough, Raboniel,” Devial panted, his breath hot in Navani’s ear, “I have her. Set down your blades. I promise I won’t torture her too much before I cut her pretty head off if you do.” 

Raboniel stalked towards him, her eyes blazing like the fires of Damnation, burning with hatred and disgust, each step that of a calculating predator. 

“Release her, Devial,” she breathed softly, a trickle of blood streaming from the corner of her mouth as she bared her fangs at him, “Or I will send you back to Odium begging never to be Returned again lest you be forced to face me and the torments I will unleash upon your worthless form again.” 

Devial laughed, and pressed the blade harder against Navani’s throat in answer. 

“So be it,” Raboniel whispered. 

She moved blindingly, far more quickly than Navnai had yet seen from her. In an instant, she had the blade at her neck in her hands, and it vanished to dust in a heartbeat, Navani dropping to the floor and scrambling away from the battling Fused, clutching at her throat in terror. 

Devial swung for Raboniel’s neck as his captain prowled around them, forcing Raboniel to keep one blade guarding her exposed back. 

Navani wanted to help but storms. She was just a scholar, and she would only get in the way. All she could do was whisper another frantic prayer to the Almighty. Something she never believed she’d utter for Raboniel’s sake. 

“You committed a gross slight against me just now, Devial,” Raboniel called to him, her eyes narrowed, “I will have you correct it before I send you back to Braize.” 

“Oh?” he said, “And what was that?” 

“You forgot my title when you addressed me in your scorn,” she said quietly, “I would remind you of it.” 

With that she lunged for him, throwing another dagger as she did, catching the captain in the hand so he could not intervene as she and Devial slammed to the floor. 

She rammed him through the stomach with both of her strange, pointed blades, pinning him in place as he writhed. Then she pressed her hand to him, forcing Voidlight into him, and caused his carapace to ignite, first like smouldering coals, then a roaring bonfire. 

Raboniel did not seem bothered by the heat as it engulfed him, writhing and screaming beneath her.  

She leaned in close to him, ripping her blades free of his abdomen, sending blood gushing from the wound it left, “I am the Lady of Pains, Devial,” she whispered to him, close and soft as she might to a lover. Then she rammed her blade into his chest and twisted, “My will in this tower is law. My word is final and absolute. And you will pay me the respect I am due by that title. Lest I remind you once more of its origin.” 

Navani had thought she would use her second blade to end Devial, puncturing either his gemheart or his spinal cord to finish him. 

Instead she rose from him, stepping away, leaving him writhing, consumed by flames and agony. His Voidlight supply healed him. Not fast enough to escape the death that was coming, but enough to prolong it, to ensure his last breaths would be spent in pain. 

Navani found she could not feel too sorry, but she did look away from him, watching to where Raboniel stalked towards the last of the men. Their leader, the captain, who cowered on his knees before her. 

He tossed aside his blade as she approached him, “I yield, Lady of Pains,” he said, voice cracking with fear. 

“Oh?” she said, sounding faintly amused, “And you would have allowed me to yield to you, or to Devial, had I been so pitiful as to demand that mercy, would you?” she demanded, rhythm pulsing with derision. 

“I, I-” the man panted, floundering, red eyes wide and terrified as he stared up at her. 

“Do not answer,” she snapped, “I do not need to hear you lie to me as a final insult for this day’s nonsense. I do not wish to hear you speak another word to me while you hold this body, lest I be reminded of this encounter, and your worthless part in it. Do I make myself clear?” 

The captain nodded frantically, humming to a remorseful, subservient rhythm. 

“Good,” she said, coldly. “You will return to Lezian, and you will tell him that my patience with him is growing thin, and if he thinks to test it again, he will be sorry. As sorry as Devial, there,” she said. 

As she spoke, she jerked her head towards the Fused behind them, now spasming and whimpering his last. 

The echoing silence left in the wake of his death was somehow worse than his screams. 

“You will tell him that Navani is mine. If he may claim that Windrunner, then I claim her. He will not touch her. He will not send men to take her from me. He will not so much as think of her or utter her name without my knowledge and consent. She is mine, and I will send every one of his worthless soldiers back to Braize screaming if that is what it takes to make that known throughout this tower.” 

She gave the captain a shove, sending him stumbling away from her. He scrambled to his feet, hovering, waiting to see if there was more she wished of him. 

“Get out of my sight,” she spat, waving a dismissive hand. 

He bolted at once. 

Navani sat, stunned, in the corner of the room, staring with wide eyes at the aftermath of what had happened. She put her fingers to her neck, feeling the faint cut there. It was not bad. Barely a scratch, in truth. But the memory of that blade against her skin, the feeling of the Fused’s clammy hands holding her, pressing her against him, as he spoke so lovingly of torturing her, made her want to claw herself out of her own body just to escape the memories. 

She was jolted back to her surroundings as Raboniel walked to her and crouched down beside her. 

She looked tired. Not physically tired, though. Voidlight, like Stormlight, would support her and stave off fatigue. She looked soul tired. The kind of tiredness that Navani saw when she looked into her eyes as she spoke of the war that had gone on so long for her. 

She had been created to kill, made to bring death to this world on Odium’s orders. She did it well. So very, very well. But she was tired of it. Ready to rest, to sleep, at long last. She was rusted through to her core, done, and finished. The only death she wanted now was her own, Navani was sure. 

“Are you alright?” Raboniel asked quietly, and Navani’s eyes snapped back to her eyes, focusing herself on them. 

“I-” Navani said, her voice shaking.

She wanted to say that she was fine, and she was, in comparison to everyone else in this room, Navani had absolutely nothing to complain about. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she kept repeating that single sound, in a progressively higher voice, shaking violently. 

“It will pass,” Raboniel said, gently, “Come here,” she coaxed Navani to her feet and led her into the small side room that connected to their study, away from the death. 

She settled her on the couch, poured her some strong sapphire wine and pushed the cup into her hands. Then she glanced to the next room, where Fused were calling in their own language, crying out. 

“Stay there,” Raboniel said quietly, “I will return for you in a moment.” 

Navani almost laughed at that command. It was the most unnecessary she had ever been given in her life. She couldn’t have moved if a highstorm had torn off the roof and come ripping through the room. 

Flashes of the battle continued to play out, against her will. Above it all, the look in Raboniel’s eyes as she had defended Navani. 

That had been more than a woman protecting an important asset from a political rival. More even than a necessary academic ally. That had been...Real. True, fierce protectiveness. And her declaration that Navani was hers? That she would murder her way through all of the Pursuer’s men if that was what it took to keep her safe? Storms. Storms. It was too much. 

She sat on the couch, staring into the violet depths of her wine, unable to bring it to her lips. It was taking all of her concentration and will to keep herself in check enough to stop it slopping over the sides with how her hands were shaking. 

Raboniel re-entered the room a moment later, crouching down in front of Navani with a bowl of some kind of clear, strong-smelling liquid and some other supplies she could not take in. 

“The guards I sent for arrived,” she said, quietly, “The Pursuer’s men drugged our earlier group, so that they would become more tired, more quickly, hoping I would send for replacements. I have asked them to put our rooms in order for us. They will take care of the-” 

“You saved my life,” Navani interrupted, hoarsely. 

She had been listening to what Raboniel had said, and a part of her mind recognised that it was important. But that part of her was composed, and in command, and poised. And Navani had never felt less like that in her life. So that part of her mind was most certainly not in charge at the moment. 

Raboniel paused, watching Navani with a strange expression. 

Then she set down her things and said, simply, “Yes. I did. You think I would simply have handed you over to them?” she asked. 

“I would have, if I had been in your position,” Navani replied. 

The words were coming out clipped and jerky. She was still staring straight ahead, not thinking clearly. What was she saying? She shouldn’t be telling her that. Next time she might not stand between Navani and those monsters. 

Curiously, Raboniel smiled, “I appreciate your honesty, Navani,” she said to a quiet rhythm, “But I do not think it is true. You would not have allowed someone to take a friend in your care.” 

“That’s what I am to you?” Navani asked, managing to tear her eyes from the spot on the wall she’d been fixating on, “A friend?” 

Raboniel hummed a soft rhythm she could not interpret. 

She did not answer, but gestured to Navani’s arm and said, “You were wounded, I would clean and stitch that for you, to prevent infection. I shall have the surgeons attend you tomorrow, but I do not want anyone else coming in or out of here tonight. It will be secured by my guards, and I will remain with you, in case Lezian attempts to strike again, thinking me weakened.” 

Navani nodded numbly, barely taking in what Raboniel was saying. Then. Wounded? 

She looked down and saw that, indeed, her havah was torn, and there was a long gash in her shoulder where Devial had first grabbed her. Made by a dagger, she thought? Or had it been his claws? She wasn’t sure. It was all a blur. It was all- Oh storms. 

Raboniel was achingly gentle as she began to unbutton her havah, saying quietly, “I need to move this out of my way, to work on you.” 

Navani nodded vaguely again. She would have let Raboniel do almost anything to her in this state. Some part of her, deeper than conscious sense or reason, trusted this woman. It had identified her as safe, the only safe thing left in her world. 

On a base, instinctual level, that part had seen this woman stand before her, fight to the death to defend her, then come to her afterwards to care for her. In her frantic, terrified state, an anxiety beyond panic or hysteria, she clung to whatever instinct guided her to, and right now, instinct guided her to Raboniel. 

Raboniel prodded gently at the wound in Navani’s shoulder, “Not bad,” she assessed, the quiet scholar returned once more, the feral, violent intensity of the battle gone now they were alone together again. “It will hurt, I am sure, but should cause no lasting damage.” 

“It doesn’t,” Navani replied mechanically, as Raboniel began to clean it, “Hurt,” she added, rather foolishly. 

Raboniel nodded, “Be grateful for that reprieve,” she said, wryly, “It will, once your mind catches up with what your body has just experienced.” 

“It was so much,” Navani whispered. 

The part of her brain that still had a wit left, chided her for the foolish comments, pointing out that Raboniel would not want to hear such babbling from her. 

Raboniel only nodded however, “Your first time is always a lot. The next will be easier.” 

Navani trembled and violently shook her head, “I do not want there to be a next time,” she said, swallowing hard. 

“None of us ever do, Navani,” Raboniel said quietly, “Each time I am forced to pick up my blades and kill again, I hope it will be the last. It never is. I told myself I should stop hoping it will be, as that is foolish, and repeated evidence has been put in front of me that there will always be more. Yet some time will be the last. So I hope for it. Still. I hope for it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Navani said, stupidly, as though she had anything to apologise for, as though any of this had been by her design, “That you had to kill again today on my behalf.” 

“Do not apologise, Navani,” Raboniel said softly, removing a curved needle and surgeon’s thread from the small pile beside her, “For all the times I have had to kill most recently, you have been the most worthy reason I have done so.” 

Their eyes met, and a flicker of warmth flared in Navani, pushing through the cold fog that had descended upon her after the battle. 

Clumsily, she reached out and cupped Raboniel’s cheek in her hand, stopping her from looking away, and taking that warmth with her, keeping her in place, looking at her, for just a little longer. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice hoarse again, but sounding more like her. 

Raboniel placed a gentle hand over Navani’s, then smiled and, sounding faintly amused as she hummed, said, “I appreciate the sentiment Navani, truly, but I need two hands to finish my stitching.” 

Navani blushed as she realised she had clutched onto Raboniel’s hand without realising, seeking to anchor herself in this moment of chaos and terror. She released her, and focused instead, watching Raboniel’s movements as she stitched. 

The pattern was not the one favoured by modern human surgeons, but the stitches were neat, precise, and well-judged. She was obviously practiced. 

“I wouldn’t have thought this was a skill you would need to have,” Navani said, finding that she needed to say something, unwilling to let the moment lapse into silence, “Given that you can use Voidlight to heal yourself.” 

Raboniel hummed quietly, nodding, “This is true. But it was a skill I had acquired before I became Fused.” She looked up to see Navani’s curious look, and explained, “My mother was a seamstress, many years ago, and she taught me.” 

“You remember it?” Navani asked, amazed, “From so long ago?” 

“I maintained the skill, over many years, and many returns,” she explained quietly, “It was not something that I wished to lose. I taught Essu, also, when she-” she faltered for a moment, and Navani squeezed her hand. Raboniel took a breath and continued, “I wanted her to have skills beyond what Odium wished her to know in order to kill. I thought, perhaps, it may help, to have an anchor, something familiar, not drenched in blood, to return to. It was not enough.” 

She trailed off, and though it made her feel as though she were being repeatedly stabbed, Navani allowed the silence to swallow them, not wishing to interrupt Raboniel’s moment of grief. 

A guard glanced into the room as Raboniel finished up, and Navani jumped so badly that Raboniel almost tore out the row of stitches she’d just finished. 

Resting a hand gently on Navani’s knee, Raboniel turned and said, “Speak.” 

“The area is secure, Ancient One,” the guard said, giving her a salute, “We will remain in the outer chamber, with you and the Queen protected here. If we see any of the Pursuer’s men, we shall call for you at once.” 

“Thank you, Vardwi,” Raboniel said, nodding in thanks to the guard, who withdrew with a respectful nod. 

“Will they come for me again?” Navani found herself asking. 

The usual filter that existed between her brain and her mouth seemed to have broken, and she could not stop her tongue giving voice to her fears. 

Raboniel looked at her, eyes steady, intense, “I will not lie, they may,” she said quietly, “But if they do the result shall be the same. They shall not have you. Though we Fused are of Odium, you will find that I can keep my oath as well as your Bondsmith, Navani.” 

“You would do that?” she breathed, “You would cut down your own, possibly anger Odium...For me?” 

“You have proven yourself, Voice of Lights,” Raboniel said simply, placing hands on her knees and starting to rise, “And you are mine. Under my protection and in my care. It would shame me, were I to allow Lezian to harm you. It-” 

She broke off suddenly, swaying slightly in place, putting a hand to her head. Navani reached out to steady her, alarmed, guiding her back down onto the couch she was on. 

“What is it?” she asked, sharply, alarmed. 

Raboniel groaned, “It appears that I have a dagger in my back,” she said, conversationally. Her eyes twinkled as she glanced to Navani, “I might have suspected you as the source of it, if I did not know better Navani" she murmured with a smile. “I will need to ask you to remove it, however.” 

“What?” Navani said, feeling suddenly a little faint. 

“It appears I have shifted the blade while moving, it has nicked my lung, which is beginning to fill with blood. It’s a rather unpleasant sensation,” Raboniel informed her matter-of-factly, as if there was a problem in one of their experiments. “Voidlight has healed me as it can around the wound, but cannot repair my lung while there is a dagger in the way. I will need you to take it out.” 

Navani swallowed as Raboniel turned in place, and she spotted the hilt of the dagger protruding from her back, just beneath her ribcage. 

“Stormfather,” she whispered hoarsely. She reached out to grip the hilt and pull it free, but her hands were shaking so badly. “I, I can’t Raboniel,” she said, staring at the blade, at the blood leaking from the wound, remembering the terror that had only just passed. “My hands- My hands won’t stop shaking, I can’t, I-” 

Raboniel turned, wincing as that shifted the blade again, and held Navani’s hands in her own, “You can,” she said, her rhythm comforting. “It is only shock, Navani, it shall pass. But I need you to do this for me now, do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Navani whispered, taking a deep breath and trying to master herself, “Yes, I. Yes.” 

Raboniel turned in place again, coughing and spitting up blood as she did so. Navani trembled, then wrapped her freehand around the hilt of the dagger, bracing the other against Raboniel’s back. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, shakily. 

“Make it quick,” Raboniel answered, “One, swift motion. And do resist the temptation to try to ram it into my gemheart, won’t you?” she added, glancing over her shoulder and smirking, “That would be rather poor repayment, don’t you think?” 

“I wouldn’t,” Navani said, and knew that it was true. 

Once she might have done. Once she would have taken a knife willingly presented to her in the back of this Fused, and thrown it all to the winds in an attempt to rid herself, and this tower, of her. But she couldn’t. She knew that. And not just because Raboniel had risked her life to save her tonight. 

Navani took a deep breath, then yanked, swift and sure as she could manage. The knife resisted her, the skin having healed up around her, and Raboniel buried a scream in the cushions of the couch beside her as Navani tore the wound open again. 

Then her body slumped, relaxing, and Voidlight began to heal the wound, leaving Navani quivering with a knife in her hands. 

Raboniel turned and took it from her, gently, then used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from it before handing it back, hilt first. 

“You should have some way to protect yourself,” she said, firmly. “Even if you have no training, it is not too difficult to ram the sharp end somewhere that seems painful.” 

Navani nodded and accepted the blade with trembling hands. Then, with nowhere to currently sheathe it, and no desire to be in contact with it, and the memories it carried with it, she set it aside on the arm of the chair. 

“What now?” she asked, slightly tremulously. 

“We shall rest,” Raboniel said, firmly, “It is late, and you look as though you’re ready to faint with exhaustion and stress.” 

She got to her feet, and Navani found herself grabbing for her hand again, saying urgently, “Where are you going?” 

Raboniel crouched down and covered her hand with her own, squeezing, “To speak with my guards,” she said, humming to a soothing rhythm, “And to inspect the defences they have set up against Lezian’s men for tonight.” 

“You will return?” Navani asked, feeling an absolute fool the moment the words were out of her mouth, yet somehow grateful to her fool self for asking it, so she might hear the answer. 

Raboniel hummed in affirmation, “I will not leave you, Navani,” she promised quietly, “I shall remain here tonight with you. And none shall harm you. I swear it.” 

Navani nodded, then released Raboniel and allowed her to step from the small side chamber back into the main study to converse with her guards. 

Trembling, Navani managed to will enough control into her shaking legs to get them to carry her to the small writing desk in the corner. 

There, she took a scrap of parchment, brushpen, and ink, and painted a glyphward of thanks, which she burned in one of Raboniel’s candles. 

***

#navoniel #raboniel #navani kholin #rhythm of war #stormlight archive #rhythm of war spoilers #stormlight archive spoilers #my fic #navoniel fic #stormlight fic #mine #text post tag #long post #i havent posted enough GAY #im a BAD LESBIAN #VERY BAD LESBIAN

[tomhollandnet]

With upcoming roles in not just in “Cherry,” the British star is also currently filming the still-untitled “Spider-Man” sequel from director Jon Watts. Holland opens up about preparing for his role as a soldier turned drug addict and then turned bank robber, along with what we can expect from the new superhero movie next year, which he calls “the most ambitious standalone superhero movie ever made.” Finally, he touches upon getting an itch for directing and how his dream role is to play James Bond and work with Maggie Smith. Listen to the podcast below!

Why did you choose “Cherry” for your first project following the MCU films?

Tom Holland: I don’t really know why now. I would have accepted this job; whoever it was, it’s the gift that keeps on giving. And I got to work with the Russos [Anthony and Joe] again. People that I really respect and I look up to and admire their work. The subject matter is really important. I think we’re doing a service to society by shining the light on a problem that is happening on everybody’s doorstep, which is substance abuse, overmedicating people, and not treating PTSD in the correct way. And also, it was a challenge. I love a challenge. I love pushing myself. Hard work is good work. So it was a bit of a no-brainer, this film, and I can’t imagine there was any way in which I would have turned it down and walked away.

As a former child actor, was there a particular film that really inspired you to get into this business?

Holland: That’s a good question. There are definitely films that I’ve watched as a young kid where I’ve gone “Wow, I would love to be able to play a character like that.” I was 11 when I first went on stage for “Billy Elliot,” and I was too young to think about the future of my career. I never decided to become an actor. It’s just something that happened to my life. It happened to me, and I just never stopped. I was just really lucky that I was able to continue doing it for as long as I have been doing it. Working with Naomi Watts on “The Impossible” was the time where I realized that this was something that I could do for a living. The first time I was like, “Oh, wow, I could actually maybe be an actor.”

Is there a film or performance that’s your favorite of all-time?

Holland: “Primal Fear” for me is one of my all-time favorite performances from Edward Norton. I think he is just picture-perfect, and there is not anything about his performance that you could tweak to make it better. So that’s a film I’ve to continue to learn from.

What was it like working with your co-star Ciara Bravo on “Cherry?”

Holland: Let me start by saying what a pleasure it was to work with her and get to know her. She’s an amazing actress, and the film wouldn’t be half the film without the performance that she gives. I remember I wasn’t at all involved in the casting process of Emily’s character. And I remember The Russos sent me Ciara’s audition tape two or three months before we started production. And for the first time in my career, I was so intimidated. I saw her tape, and I was like, “Oh, she’s like, too good,” and I need to do more work, because she’s going to act me off the screen, and no one’s going to want to follow my character. I thought the Russos were going to be like, “fuck you, Tom Holland, we’re rewriting the film with her now.”

I was so intimidated, and we were so lucky that she was so confident. You can only imagine she’s a young actress. She’s working with the two biggest directors, arguably of all time at the moment, and, and she’s working on this really difficult film with the tricky subject matter. She was so confident, brave, talented, and unselfish in the way that she went about making the film.

How did you prepare your unnamed character in “Cherry” in terms of meeting with addicts or veterans?

Holland: We did quite a lot of research. We spent a lot of time at the VA in Cleveland, and we were interviewing veterans who were suffering from PTSD and substance abuse and trying to seek help. It was an amazing process because it really showed me that therapy works. That these men and women were healing, and they were getting better. We met people at the beginning of their treatment, and they were really closed off, and they weren’t quite comfortable enough to share the stories.

We had people in the middle of their treatment who were getting to that stage where they were willing to open up. So some of them didn’t want to open up to a 24-year-old actor making a movie. Then the people at the end of their treatment who have made peace with their decisions and their mistakes were able to own it. They would tell us the stories and almost tell them proudly. I think one of the big problems in our society is that if you say to someone, “I’m going to rehab,” immediately the reaction is like, “Oh my god, that must mean that you’re really messed up.”

But what the reaction should be is, “Congratulations…that’s amazing. I’m really proud of you that you’re seeking help and that you’ve recognized that you’re in trouble.” I’m hoping that this film can do that for some people. And that, we can maybe stop some kids from falling into this trap of addiction in the future.

After working so much with The Russo Brothers, are you getting an itch to direct in the future?

Holland: Yes, absolutely. I’ve been trying to scratch that itch for a really long time. And my younger brother Harry and I have been writing a script together. We managed to acquire the rights to a book series that we loved as kids. So we’ve been sort of chipping away at that. I now have so much more respect for writers because it’s so difficult, man. I mean, trying to put something on the page is really, really quite difficult. I’d love to direct one day. We’re not rushing anything because I think the project we’re working on is amazing and can be quite powerful. So we want to make sure we get it right. But hopefully, within the next five years, you’ll see Harry and I sitting in the director’s chairs shouting action.

Can you tell us anything about the upcoming “Spider-Man” movie that you’re filming?

Holland: Obviously, I can’t really say anything.

You can tell us what happens at the end, right?

Holland: [pauses] What’s funny is like, I nearly told you then. You were so close to getting what you want.

I can say that it’s the most ambitious standalone superhero movie ever made. You sit down, read the script, and see what they’re trying to do, and they’re succeeding. It’s really impressive. I’ve never seen a standalone superhero movie quite like it. And I’m just, you know, again, that lucky little shit who happens to be Spider-Man in it. We got a lot more shooting to do. We started before Christmas and shot for like seven weeks. We stopped for the Christmas break, and then we’re starting again. I’m just as excited as everyone else to see it, let alone be a part of it.

What’s a role from a book or a series that you would really like to play?

Holland: I’ve got two roles coming up that I’m playing in the next few years that I’m really excited about, but I can’t talk about them yet. But I mean, ultimately, as a young British lad who loves cinema, I’d love to be James Bond. So, you know, I’m just putting that out there. I look pretty good in a suit.

What actress are you dying to work but haven’t as of yet?

Holland: I really want to work with Maggie Smith. I love her. She’s so like English and just seems so sweet. I’d really love to work with Maggie Smith.

You’re eying the “Downton Abbey” universe now I see.

#tom holland #interviews #long post

[lilousmustaches]

L.A nightmares

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: TW!!! Sexual harassement, authorities using their power in a nasty way, dissociating, anxiety. 

Notes: Hey! Here i am after years writing Jensen x reader again! How do you feel about it? But okay... this fic. I had this idea when i saw a thread on twitter that told a story about an event that Jensen was with Danneel, they saw a girl being harassed and Jensen immediataly intervened. I can't find this post anywhere but i truly believe that he is that type of guy. Be safe out there ladies! 

Summary: Jensen and the reader are co-stars and travel to L.A together, just to pass throught a series of unfortunate events. 

xxXXxxXXxx

"Here's the next week script (Y/N)." A girl that worked around the set said polity handing you a large new script. You had seen her around before, what was her name? Lauren... Laura! Was Laura. You hated not knowing people's name, especially those who worked with you and for you, but it was so many people walking around, everyday a new person, that made it a bit hard.

 "Thanks Laura!" You asked with a small smile that she retributed and walked away. You started to leafing through the next script seeing that you had more scenes in this episode than in the last two you appeared. 

 "(Y/N)!" Someone shouted making you immediately lift your gaze seeing a smiling Jensen in front of you. "I didn't know you would be here today!" He said hugging you and felt almost dizzy with his perfume. He was definitely one of most good smelling men you ever came across. 

 "You seen me yesterday J." You said laughing breaking the hug and the struggled. 

 "Still missing you though." He said putting his arms in your shoulders and started walking with you again. You had entered the Supernatural cast years before, being a really important character and recently, Sam's love interest. You didn't appeared on every episode but in the most of them, like Misha, for example. Because of this, he was one of your best friends, along with the boys that eventually you became inseparable. Always hanging out together, laughing and pranking each other. It truly was a family. Although you had to kiss Jared sometimes because of some scenes, you saw him practically like a older brother. But with Jensen... Well, that was a whole another story. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought that you had already taken the fight for L.A" 

 "I had to adjust some details of my last scene." You explained. "Why? You wanted me gone, that bad?" You joked hearing him huffing. 

 "Well, yeah, I can't even look at your face anymore." Jensen joked back making you roll your eyes and he laughed, squeezing you harder. "Just kidding sweetheart, you know pretty damn well that I never can bring myself to be tired of you." He said like it was nothing making you blush a little bit. Usual.

 You were already in the outside part of the set and spotted Jared and Misha coming at your direction. 

 "Good things to say Ackles, because I will be going with you to L.A" You explained when the boys came closer. 

 "Really? Thank god you will be saving me from a boring trip with that moron." Jared said stepping up in the conversation referring to Jensen, because Misha wouldn't be able to go to this one, and you smiled. You would take a fight a few days earlier than the boys but because of the problem with one scene, you had to go with them. 

 "Really, argh, I'm so excited." You said making a strange face and they laughed. "It's going to be my first award!" 

 "It's gonna be fun." Jared said and Jensen smiled in adoration looking at you,  lot shorter than him and a few years younger. 

 None of you knowing what kind of things this trip could bring. And man, there were a lot.

 XxXxXxxXx

"Wow." Jensen breathed out stepping up in the apartment you would share in this three days in the city of angels, Los Angeles. Some of the cast had to come to be present in a award that was going to happen in the city. Jared and Genevieve, his wife, opted to stay in a hotel but you had this friend that was out of town and offered her place for you to stay, and you took it, inviting Jensen since you knew he wasn't a big fan of hotels. 

 "Pretty nice, hun?" You said with a little smile realizing that it had been a while since you stayed in there and he nodded. 

 "Tell me about it." He said looking around. The place was pretty wide and cozy. A little fancy but with a lot of little fun things, like a orange table, some colorful frames around and a blue fridge. Your personal favorite. 

 You two adjusted yourselves in the two guests rooms that had in the apartment beside the suite and started to get ready for the dinner Gen invited you. It was some friends of her and some producers, directors and a bunch of kind of important people in the movie industry. You didn't recognize any of the names Jensen told you that would be attempting to it, but why the hell not, you wanted a fun night with some of your friends. 

 You finally finished your makeup and with a last look in the mirror you step out of the room going to the living room, only to find Jensen there, sitting on the couch, ready to go, scrolling throught his phone. Soon as he heard your high heels getting closer, he lifted his gaze, losing his breath for the second time this day. 

 "Wow." He breathed out looking at you with a loose short black dress, red high heels and lipstick. "You look beautiful (Y/N)." He said honestly staring at you and you felt yourself blush. 

 The truth was that you were completely in love with him. For a few years now. Since you started the series, Jensen caught your eye. I mean, how could he not? He was handsome, funny, sweet, always smelling good and the most important thing.... He was caring. Jensen Ackles was one of the most caring guys you knew. Got a problem? Jensen would listen. Hell, Jensen would solve it. And not just with his closest friends, but with everybody around him. He always offered help, not matter what. He makes sure his PA, and the people around set already had breakfast before work. He makes sure to offers to take water, every time someone get drunk on the casts parties. It was the details. And you loved them all. 

 You quickly became friends, and you were okay with being just that. Besides the friendly flirting it's not like you expected something else. Just having someone as incredible as him to call your friend was enough. 

 "Well, you don't look too bad yourself." You said and he laughed, rolling his eyes getting up of the sofa. "But thank you." 

 "I meant it (Y/N), you look like you could break some hearts tonight." Jensen continued to compliment you as he opened the apartment door. "But let's go miss, Jared said that we are already late." 

 You called an Uber to take the two of you to the restaurant placed in DownTown, a district in Los Angeles, one of your favorite parts of the city. Although you enjoyed every little piece of it, you just loved L.A, it made you feel good. After some minutes in the car, and some easy going conversation with Jensen, the driver announced you had arrived. Just for the entrance you could tell it was fancy. 

 "I thought it was just a dinner." You said immediately when you entered the place, looking around seeing that the restaurant was closed for the event and everybody was up talking and walking around. Some waiters were passing serving some food and some of them with trays serving wine, whiskey and champagne. 

 "Yeah, I thought so too" Jensen said, looking around surprised as well. "Hollywood, and their people with grandeur complex." He said making you chuckle. 

 "(Y/N)! Jensen!" You heard and spotted Jared smiling and waving you, with Genevieve by his side. You and Jensen reached them, after a waiter stopped you offering something to drink, you went with wine and Jensen with whiskey. "You finally got here! I was already thinking you wouldn't make it." 

 "Stop being dramatic, we were just a little late." Jensen said hugging his friend and then Gen. You doing the same. 

 "(Y/N) is so good to see you, it has been a while hasn't it?" Gen said breaking the hug and you agreed. Since you became friends with Jared, the friendship with Gen came along and you two just hit so well, in the set, your friends was mostly males and you loved having some girl company when she was around. She introduced you to her friends, that first invited her to the event. They were also actors, and they explained how they met in a project Gen was part of when she was just beginning her career.

 "So, are you guys excited about tomorrow? Heard you're competing in two categories right?" Aaron, one of Gen's friends, said referring to the awards you would be attending because of Supernatural. 

 "Yeah! Especially this girl here who is totally a award virgin." Jared joked putting his hands on your shoulders and you giggled, rolling your eyes.

 "Can you blame me? It's a big step in someone's career!" You defended yourself. "Oh it definitely is! I remembering when I went to my first award, I was so nervous and I wasn't even running for anything." Aaron laughed taking a sip of his wine. "It's just a great place to meet important people."

 "It sure is." Yan, the other friend, agreed. "But if I'm being honest, we are just in the right place for networking right now. Every big fish that can hire and fire you from any huge project in the industry is here tonight." 

 "I noticed... That guy over the balcony is practically one of CW's owners right?" Jensen said holding his whiskey, discreetly pointing at some guy behind you. Your turned around to look, after all one he was one of the owners of the channel Supernatural passed. The guy was a lot older, bald and plus sided, but you quickly turned around when he caught you facing. 

 "Yep, Tony Garcia." Aaron answered. The six of you passed a few more minutes talking and drinking, until they parted to talk to more people that was there. You got that Tony guy staring from time to time. You walked with Jensen for a bit, meeting some great and important people, as Yan had said. Talked for some time with Jared, he was already funny but got even funnier when he was tipsy. And finally, passed some time with Gen... until you had to go to the bathroom.

"(Y/N) right? The Supernatural star!" The Tony guy stopped you when you were getting out of the toilet, in your way back to Jensen that was laughing with some other three mans. You laughed a little embarrassed, why that guy knew your name? Okay, you literally worked for him but he was way far away in the enterprise. 

 "I don't if it could be called that, but yeah! I'm (Y/N), pleasure to meet you!" You said smiling extending your hand to him and he quickly shake his head. 

 "Nah, I don't do hand shakes with beautiful woman like you." Tony said with a laugh already pulling you to a hug. His hand in your back was dangerously close to your butt, his breath stank like whiskey - a great amount of that -, the tone of his voice and the intimacy he putted on the hug was enough to make you uncomfortable. This wasn't right. You could sense something was terrible wrong. "And believe me when I say beautiful, I mean something else." 

 "Ha ha." You gave him a yellow smile already grossed out by the man in front of you. What he was implying? "It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Garcia, but if you excuse me I-..."

 "So you know who I am!" He interrupted you, interrupting your way to leaving the conversation too. His tone already implied power and dominance, as if his name had a big weight in the conversation. "Well, as one of the CW's owners I have to say Supernatural brings a lot of benefits for us. I'm happy about the success of the series! I can see why the audience increased after your entrance." Tony said with pure maliciousness in his voice looking you up and down, showing no shame, looking you as if you were totally naked. "I believe woman don't last much on the show, but it would be a shame if you had to leave." He said and you knew that it was a threat. He was threading you.

 You gulped feeling your throat burning from holding back tears. The only words that crossed your mind was 'Every big fish that can hire and fire you'. God, you were a woman, unfortunately harassment was something you experienced all your life but it didn't make any less painful anytime it happened. The fame industry was gross and you knew that. You heard horrible stories about girls having to do every kind of sick bullshit to only get a chance for audition. You were so thankful that none of it happened to you, that you found a show with the most respectful co-workers and producers you could ever think of. But there you were, face-to-face to some sick nasty man that had the power to fire you in a snap of his fingers. 

 "It would indeed." You said forcing a smile, taking a sip of the wine in your hands.

 "I have to say, you have such a beautiful mouth." He said. "I wonder what it can do." 

 "It sure can drink." You said laughing nervously drinking the entire wine that was left in your glass. Only your glass was still half full. It didn't burned more than holding back the tears though.

 "Oh princess, no need to be nervous around me." Tony said laughing and you immediately related to the sound of a pig. That was what he was. A pig. Once again he passed his arm around your body pulling you close and resting his hand, this time, just down your boob but close enough to be touching. You were trapped in his grip, so close to his face, feeling that alcohol breath. You couldn't think the last time you were so uncomfortable, you needed to get out of there, you just needed. Every single part of your body yelled dangerous. "We're all friends here.... We can even be more than it tonight." 

 "Hey." You heard a deep voice by your side and you almost missed the sight of Jensen's hard expression by the tears that now was blurring your eyes. "Let go man, I believe you're making her uncomfortable." 

 "Hey..." Tony laughed looking at Jensen, letting you go and you didn't noticed you were holding your breath until that moment. You immediately stepped away from Tony, going to Jensen's side. "We were just chilling... what? Playing Dean for so long that incorporated the hero type?" 

 "Yeah, it didn't look like chilling to me." Jensen said not losing his posture and not falling for any of his bullshit. Jensen was in the middle of a conversation with some directors, exchanges tips, when he saw you from far away simply drinking your whole glass of wine all at once. He knew you to well to notice something was wrong, and he didn't need more than 10 seconds to understand what was happening. "And relax! I know how to separate my character really well, but I do believe we have basic ethics principles in common." 

 "Okay smart boy." Tony said with now anger is his features. "Remembering who you are taking to. Supernatural can turn into a one star show really quick. And you..." He said turning to you. "Consider yourself fired."

 "As far as I know you don't decide shit about my show, but I do know that you need to start respecting women." Jensen said in the same low tone, with anger in every word. "Excuse me." 

 Jensen leaded you the way making sure you didn't even pass near Tony again, he was with a gentle hand in your back almost not touching you and quickly you two were already outside and you saw him calling a cab. 

 "I'm sorry (Y/N), I got so angry... You wanna go home or you want to stay more? That dick won't get any closer to you, I promise." Jensen asked turning to you and looking straight into your eyes with concerned. 

 "I just wanna go home Jens." You said with a chocked voice letting the first tear fall down. You were in shock, practically shivering. You always says to yourself that the next time something like that happens, you were going to stand, be loud and not take it quietly. But every time you freeze. Every fucking time. 

 You dissociated the entire way back home, with a million thoughts in your head and at the same time, none. You noticed with the corner of your eyes, Jensen constantly looking at you to check and typing something on his phone, probably letting Jared know what happened and why you headed off. He didn't try to talk to you, and honestly you were grateful for that. 

 Immediately when you entered the apartment, you went to the shower. The water was burning hot but it felt like nothing in your body. You didn't know what trigged you so hard, thinking about it, the situation was kind of quick and it could have been a million times worse. But you were so scared that he would fulfill his word. Mans like him don't just accept being rejected, you felt so small.... Almost guilty. Tears started to fall down desperately and sobs got out of your mouth. You didn't know how much time you passed in the bath but saw some clothes in the bed you were sleeping when you got out. A grey sweatshirt and some boys shorts. Jensen. 

 "Hey..." You said with a small voice standing by the door of the room Jensen was sleeping, seeing him sitting by the end of the bed scrolling through his phone. "Thanks for the clothes."

 "Comfort sweatshirt right?" He joked seeing you in his clothes, referring to when you stole it on set and he passed days looking for it until he found you sleeping in his coat and listen to the excuse that it was your 'comfort sweatshirt', that it made you happy and safe. "Hey... com' here" 

 Jensen said with a soft voice when he saw your face struggling to hold back the tears. He back out laying in the left side of the bed opening his arms for you to join him, and you immediately did. Nestling in his chest, he hugged you strong hearing you cry quietly into his neck. 

 "You know... This is not even the worst that happen to me." You said when you calmed down after some minutes of cuddling in silence and Jensen moved his face away just enough to stare at you, but stayed quiet waiting for you to get out of your chest whatever you needed. "These situations had been happening with me, well with all women, since before we even know what this means. Teachers, taxi driver's, superiors, random people in public places, friends... I just... Tell myself that the next time something like that happen I will stood up for it. But every time it happens I just loose all my courage." 

 "And this it's not on you (y/n). This is unacceptable, shouldn't be happening at all and it's not your fault not having a response for it. This shouldn't be a situation you must be prepared for." Jensen said frowning his eyebrows looking at you deadly serious. "I'm so sorry you have to go through that bullshit almost daily. It fucking pisses me off."

 "Yeah I'm sorry too." You said with a weak smile feeling him stroking his thumb slowly in your back where his hand stood. "Do you think he can fire me?"

"No." Jensen said with certain. "He has nothing to do with Supernatural productions. And even if he could, I wouldn't let them. If he wants you gone, i would be gone too." 

"Jensen..." You were speechless. "Us women really suffer daily, but it makes a little better knowing that there are at least some guys out there that truly respect us. I am lucky to have fell in a job full of you. I really appreciate what you did for me today Jensen." 

 "I'm always gonna be here for you (Y/N)... And it's truly that least I can do." Jensen said with a rough voice. "There was this time on set, before you were even in the series, that Jared's PA was harassed by a camera man... Nobody saw the moment and from one day to another she asked for resignation. Nobody understood and we continued to treat the guy like a friend for months until we finally discovered what happened. I just.... I'm just glad that I was there with you tonight." 

 You just gave him a small smile feeling your heart so full that could explode. It was an awful night, it really was. But Jensen... He was everything you could ever ask in a friend. You hugged him strong and got into a position where your foreheads were touching. Yours and Jensen's eyes were closed but you could feel his breathing and the warm of his lips almost touching yours. You didn't know how long you stayed in that position but you surely didn't want that to end. 

 "I could be like this every single day." You said before you even could stop yourself and frowned when the realization hit you. "Wait did I just confessed?"

 He squeezed your waist to make you open your eyes that stood close because of the embarrassment, and you had to hold your breath when saw Jensen's green eyes, so vivid, looking so close at your tenderly. 

 "Yeah? Cause I would too" Jensen breathed out feeling a weight off his chest. What that really happening? The women he had feeling for months now, in front of him telling she liked him? He saw in your eyes the relief you felt cause of his confession and slowly finally gave you a long chaste kiss.

 You both knew that this was enough for now. The cuddling, the comfort of each other and the lightness of knowing the feeling were both sided was enough. There was going to have the moment for your skin meet his and there was going to have the moment for a serious conversation about your feelings.

 But for now all that matters was being in each other arms, and sensing that the night that started like a nightmare turned into a dream.

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