#Sad glimpse at women's life of the past

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

You don’t get to tell me about sad

Previous chapter

a/n part three! I’m brain dead so sorry for the wait. I hope you will all enjoy this. 🫧🫶🏻

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars, injuries, blood.

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You were sure that your lip was going to burst from the way you kept biting on it, trying to suppress the laugh as the carriage rolled through the misty autumn forest. Convinced that nothing was ever going to top the sight of Azriel, squished the opposite of you. He was scowling so hard that he was most definitely the reason why the sky had ripped open. Pouring rain drowned the lush forest since the early morning. It looked like you were driving to a funeral at best, gruesome execution at best. 

“Don’t start with me today," Azriel grunts, his eyes burning into yours. Yet now that he acknowledged you, the smile only seemed to spread wider. He lets out a grunt, and a quiet giggle slips past your lips. "Princess, life suits you," you mumble, making Azriel roll his eyes. “Come on now; it’s not so bad. Don’t huff”, you nudge his leg with your heel, earning yet another glare.

“Could have winnowed us there”, “You did almost all the way”, you point out. And you would have happily obliged, but the murmurs about something being wrong with the high lord’s family had started. So Lucien and Eris had made their outing. If not for the rain, you would have done just the same. Take a walk through the main streets. But now seeing the family carriage and your face through the glass would have to be enough. 

“Why do you hate autumn so much?”, It’s a bold statement to make. You’re not sure if he even hates it. Well, considering the amount of frowning he does, he has to. “I have my reasons," Azriel answers as bluntly as he can. “Care to elaborate?", you turn to him, ready to dig an answer out of him if you had to. He owned you, considering his creeping around your room. But your eyes fall on the way he’s trying to subtly rub his palms together. The scarred skin—humidity must be making the bones ache too. He’s impossible to read, but you’re convinced that the discomfort hunts some of his features. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care, yet you still inch closer. There’s not much space inside the carriage considering that man’s size, but it’s enough for you to brush your legs against him. As expected, Azriel’s hands instantly reached to put distance between you both. But that’s when you yank the side of your cloak up, draping the fur-lined material over his scared palms. 

“What are you?", "Shhhh," you say quickly. He tries to pull them out, but you catch his gaze—a daring look there. “Know your”, but you cut him off once more, “Next words out of your mouth better be, thank you, princess," you muse. Azriel clenches his jaw. But he doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t fight the warmth slowly seeping through the stiff skin. “I thought you hated that nickname, princess," he says. One thing this man hadn’t learned in life was dealing with women. Clearly. You shrug, “Not so bad when it’s you who calls me that," you muse, watching as a glimpse of surprise washes over his features, and then the scowling coldness returns. 

Azriel doesn’t like it here. The thought alone had unsettled him ever since Lucien had announced the need to go back. “The High Lord needs to make a statement," Lucien had stated. Azriel itched to say that Eris wasn’t his high lord. But he knew that regardless of Eris’s wishes, he would have gone. Because you were going there. So here he was, standing outside the forest house. Not daring to go forward alone. You had waved him off. Told him to go inside while you checked on the horses. But he refused to step inside. So he stood there, trying to memorize every window.

“Who’s snooping now?", your voice fills Azriel’s ear as he slowly turns to you. Arms crossed as you grin at him. He wonders why you hadn’t mentioned that night in your room. Why you brushed it off so easily. “I just needed to stretch my wings." It’s not so much of a lie. It had been a disaster of a trip here. You barely manage to open your lips when an unfamiliar voice comes from behind, “Yn, Yn.“

Azriel pushes you behind him, his hand reaching for his dagger. But you slip out of his grasp, glancing over his shoulder. And then you’re stepping forward. “Makoa?”, it’s a whisper, and Azriel doubts that a disheveled-looking boy would hear it. But he does. And that name alone makes Azriel uneasy. The same boy you had sneaked out with. And just like that Azriel decides that he hates Makoa.

"Wait," you push again Azriel's arm, but his grip doesn’t falter. “Anyone can be a threat," the spymaster points out. “I know him," and it’s the desperation that makes Azriel back up. The same one that he had when he called out to Mor. To Elain. The lost kind. One that had you hanging up on things that weren’t there. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Makoa mutters once he is in arms reach of you. Azriel has to bite his tongue because nothing about that statement seems genuine. “You can imagine it’s been busy over here," and your voice is different too. Hazy almost. You bite at Azriel. Spewing venom. And here, this boy makes you behave like a youngling with your first-ever crush. “You could have written to me; I’ve missed you." Makoa raises his hand, and Azriel instantly inches to step forward, but then the boy is leaning in, his lips brushing over yours. Making Azriel lower his head. A strange sort of feeling brews within him. One that’s not welcome here. So he turns back onto his heel, heading deeper into the woods. To clear his consciousness. His logical thinking. His heart.

“Everyone missed you," Makoa points out, your hands clasped in his. The feeling is strange. It’s all so wrong  because, yes, he has been vocal about courting you, but this… To be kissed in front of someone he doesn’t even know. You glance back. Eyes scanning the front gardens. He’s not there. Azriel isn’t there, and a dreadful sort of uneasiness pools in your stomach. 

“It’s just been a couple of days," you brush his statement off. You were trying to find joy in something you had dreamed of ever since you slipped that book beneath the floorboards. “You’re behaving strangely," Makoa mutters, his hand reaching out for your forehead, but you bat it away. “I’m just tired," but you’re more than tired. You need answers, and quite frankly, you’re willing to do about anything to get them. 

You can trust the man in front of you. His mother used to do laundry for your family. Until Beron changed his mind or whatever happened. As if reading your mind, Makoa reaches up, cupping your cheek, “What is it you can tell me?" A part of you is screaming to just drop it. Talk to Azriel first. But then he wasn’t there. He wouldn’t know. 

“Do you remember the night on the harvest moon, well after it?”, you say quietly, looking over your shoulder for servants. “I walked you home," Makoa shrugs. Well, he did more than that, but sure, that will do for now. “Someone was waiting for me," you admit. “I didn’t go inside; I went to the barn to feed the horses." It was misty and cold outside. You didn’t catch their face. Just a hooded figure.

“I... someone tried to slice my throat open." Brushing your hair to the side, you let the white line shine in the midday sun. Makoa watches. But he doesn’t frown. There’s almost no reaction. Azriel looked more concerned when you caught him brushing his fingers over it that night. Genuine concern. Or maybe you were just imagining it. 

Makoa brings you into his chest. “What a shame," he breathes out, and your hands are instantly pushing against his chest. "Pardon," you huff, brows knit together. “I mean, it’s horrible, yes," he says, lifting his arms in defiance. You shake your head. Too tired. Too tired for this. After all, you didn’t expect him to take you seriously. He was too wild. Too carefree for that. 

"Look, just be careful, okay?", you mutter, your eyes searching him, but he only shoots you a wicked smile. “You don’t have to worry about me," he muses. You burn to tell him that you both are no longer kids. There are serious matters, but you don’t have it in you to fight another battle today. “I’ll see you in the party," you say as you step back, letting your fingers slip out of his grasp. But then he’s pulling you back. Hand on the side of your face. An eager kiss smothered against your lips, “I wouldn’t miss the spectacle.”

Azriel’s task this weekend was easy. If he was being honest, he didn’t quite grasp why exactly he was asked to come. But then Eris might have just done it to spite him. All he was responsible for was keeping an eye on you when Eris and Lucien couldn’t. So essentially, babysit a grown woman. Now he was standing with his back against your door. Throwing his knife up and down in his hands. Trying to beat his record of spins before it lands back into his palm. 

“Okay, am...", your voice breaks the second-floor silence, making Azriel pause. “Can you get Maria?”, Azriel shakes his head even if you can’t see him, “She just went outside for the flower arrangements." The elderly woman had pinched his cheek way too many times, but as much as he hated it, she reminded Azriel of his own mom. 

"Fuck," the sound of things falling inside the room, makes Azriel press his ear to the door.“What’s going on?”, he demands. Silence falls. “I...", you start, but it ends with a frustrated sigh. “Well, let’s hear it," he muses, hoping for yet another privileged little dig he could throw back at you. 

“I can’t reach the back of the dress to do the..." It’s a whisper. A frustrated one at that. “We have twenty minutes," Azriel points out. “I know, tree man, I know," you growl in frustration, cursing to yourself as you continue to struggle. 

“I'm coming in," Azriel states, instantly frowning at his own words. "No, you are not," you snarl, and he is sure that you are frowning. “On three," the spymaster warns. But he doesn’t even get a chance to start the countdown. “Fucking, Azriel,” you say, yanking the door open. Rosy cheeks. Slightly disheveled hair. And that deep red satin dress. So far different from the one he had seen you in the first time you both met. That was a girl. This… You were meant to be in red. In…

“Eyes up here, moron," you say, reaching up to flick his nose. One arm holding the material upfront. You turn away from him. The smooth back exposed to his scared hands. Azriel shakes those thoughts away. “I’ve seen females before," he states, reaching for the golden buttons. “Really? I would have taken you for a virgin," you snort, shaking your head ever so slightly. Azriel fake gasps, earning a glimmer in your eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”, he says in the most dramatic way possible. You bite your lip, trying to hide that smile. He knows it. Feels it.

“Just do the dress up," you urge him, motioning to your back. Azriel halts, letting his hands drop to his side. “Start with a please," he says proudly. You glance up at him, “Are you being serious?” Surely a man who just completed about the amount of time you had wasn’t going to start playing games. “I decided that etiquette lessons are in order," he shrugs, making you roll your eyes. “I will spit in your drink tonight. How is that for your etiquette lessons?” You flash him one of your fake smiles. “Delightful, just how I like it," and it’s so unexpected that you are left slack-jawed for a split second, and then he grabs your shoulder and turns you around, nudging you forward. “You’re disgusting," you say, pushing your heel against his leg, making a little rumble of laughter fill the space. “Says you," he breathes practically against your skin, sending shivers down your back. 

You fidget with your sleeve as you and Azriel make your way towards the main part of the event. Public outings still felt strange. The big crowd overwhelmed you. But you had missed out on so many great things  and parties, especially when you were growing up. That now….

“Only a weirdo disappears like that," you halt suddenly, leaving Azriel to walk along until he too stops. Turning to face you. You quickly put a finger against your lips, stepping closer to the second-floor railing. “That’s what I told Makoa”. You know those voices. You don’t even need to look down the staircase to know who they belong to. 

“Daddy beat her, I heard," and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Tingles spread through your body like fire.“ She lived beneath the floorboards; I doubt she knows how to interact with living things." You let the words slash at you. After so many years, they don’t make a difference. It’s the fact that every time you feel as if you found someone willing to look past it, they still end up stabbing you in the back. 

That’s when your eyes fall on Azriel, practically charging towards the stairs. "Don't," you hiss, reaching to grab at his wrist, pulling him back. “It’s disrespectful, and I’m being very polite with my words here," he grunts. Venom. Purest of venom painting his features, and yet you cut him off. “I said don't," you step in front of him, pressing your palms against his chest. “It’s just another joke for them. You throwing a fit and acting all gruff won’t change a thing.”

Azriel watches you for a moment before a bitter laugh crawls up his throat. “And those are your friends? People that you think are not a threat to you? ”, he points downstairs in frustration. A wave of guilt. Shame. Fills you in seconds. You feel that familiar sting in your eyes. But you brush it beneath all the other pain. “Daddy got them for me; I didn’t have a chance to choose; my apologies," you purr through gritted teeth. 

And it’s as if you threw a comeback punch. The arrow shooting once again. Azriel’s shoulders sag. “Yn...", he breathes out, but you don’t want it. Don’t want pity. The sad eyes. The smothering. To hell with it. “We should go find my brothers." You pick at the skirt of your dress, turning to the stairs. “It was insensitive of me," Azriel’s words slam into the wall you had built, making you close your eyes for a moment. “Don’t get tangled in this; this has nothing to do with you," you mutter, not turning back to face him. Forcing your legs forward. Azriel stands at the top of the staircase for a heartbeat, watching you. Then he glances over his shoulder. One heartbeat. Two. And he unleashes his shadows to the first floor. 

The terrace is buzzing with people. If it were up to Azriel, he would be right by the platform, but there are Eris’s guards here. So he’s just standing by. That prick had it in him to suggest wine. Azriel, of course, took it. Before dumping it right next to Eris’s shoes. Rhys told him to behave, yes. And so he was, because the second option was to punch the fireling in his face. Pick and choose.

Azriel catches a glimpse of you. Well, more like all he had been doing was catching glimpses of you. Like a moth to a flame. Even if he tells himself not to, his eyes always seem to find you. That distant look in your eyes. Like you’re not here, even if your body is. He also doesn’t doubt that it’s partly because of the things the people said. Why not fight back? You seem to be fine doing that when it comes to him. But crumple the moment the people who are meant to be closest to you are involved. 

As if by coincidence, your eyes glance up, meeting Azriel’s. He should be scowling, yet he finds himself smiling. Just a little. He puts a finger beneath his chin, pushing it higher. Encouragement of sorts. You’re supposed to radiate power, not look like a damsel in distress. You return it with an eye roll, making the corners of Azriel’s lips curve even more. Deny it or not. You do lift your head up. That tingle of fire blazing just a bit brighter. That will do. It would have to be enough to get you through it. 

The music dies, and Eris walks close to the platform edge, that fox-line smile on his face. “It’s an honor to have you all here, so I thank you for finding time to join us," the high lord begins. “I know that the court is facing some challenging times, but you should not be afraid." Azriel crosses his arms over his chest as he listens. “I will do everything that is in my power to protect our people and be a true and fair high lord." Then the Autumn High Lord turns back breathy. “And... I’ll have my family to aid me in these matters," motioning for his two siblings to come to stand closer. “Lucien and Y/n Vanserra will be taking their rightful place on the throne." The crowd explodes with chairs and joyful applause. As the three siblings smile in unison.

“And…”, But there’s no and. Nothing comes after it. As if someone had stolen all of the other promises. Azriel feels it too. It hits his senses. Making them restless. There’s something wrong. Something that doesn’t feel right. A banner behind the platform bursts into flames. The hot tongues, lapping at the family insignia. Some people back up. Eris waves for his guards, ordering them into action. People are bringing buckets full of water while Eris and Lucien try to wield the wildfire. 

It’s the lightest of the sounds that follow next. It flickers, and... "Y/n," Azriel calls, making you snap your head sideways. “Y/n," he breathes out, and then he’s winnowing. His hands already stretched out. He has to make it. He will make it. There is no other option. So Azriel doesn’t let the what-ifs set in. Shrieks echo. Chaos breaks out. And then he’s up there. On the platform. One arm behind your body, the other on the arrow. 

The time stops. Your wide eyes are looking at him. Green so deep that Azriel knows he has never seen anything like it. The freckles seem even darker now that your skin has paled almost to snow white. His fingers are trembling. He can’t see it. Can’t fucking see it; the bunched-up fabric is making it hard to judge. Had the arrow met its target? Your heart seems to beat beneath his palm. But are those the last beats? Then the red fabric turns an even deeper shade of red. 

Every muscle tenses in Azriel’s body. "No," he mutters under his breath. He’s not letting you die just like that. Not on his watch. Not in some pointless death just because someone has a bone to pick with your brother. Your eyelashes flutter, and just for a heartbeat, Azriel is too slow to catch you. Your body sags, but the arrow stays there in Azriel’s head. It didn’t meet its target. Not fully, at least. Just nicked the skin. It feels as if someone rolled a mountain off of his chest. 

"Azriel," it’s so light he almost misses it. The plea. The fear. Your fingers reach up for his leg. His darkness swirls around you both. And quite frankly, the spymaster is not too sure as to what’s going on outside. The world might as well be going to shit for all he cares. Kneeling, Azriel takes hold of your trembling hands, “I’ve got you, darling; I won’t let anything happen to you." He’s not sure if you even hear him. Eyes fixed on something as if you’re looking right past him.“I'm here; I'm with you," Azrie promises, moving to drape your arms over his shoulders. “Are you with me, love?” You’ve gone into shock, that he can tell. Yet you blink. Fingers gripped onto his flying leathers as you nod. "Good," he says, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “Hold onto me, fireheart”.

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Taglist: @emryb @glitterypirateduck @xxtakeachancexx @justyouraveragekleemain @5onedirection5 @paleidiot

#azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x oc #acotar x you #eris vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x reader

[impala-dreamer]

Wonderstruck

A Magical Short Story

~ Attending a wedding alone is rarely fun. Add to it a bunch of people you don't know all hidden behind masks, things can get a little shaky. But sometimes, if you're lucky, magic can happen...~

Henry Cavill x F!Reader

3,160 Words

Warnings: Nothing but romance and magic and fluff and mystery!

A/N: Yes, it's me. No, I have not been kidnapped. This was written in part for my personal goal of branching out a bit, but moreover as a Valentine's gift for @mariekoukie6661 and @kittenofdoomage <3

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Her dress was sleek and as dark as midnight; her heels were high and deadly. Her lips dripped with crimson; a silver mask hid beautifully sad and strikingly painted eyes.

She kept to the edges of the ballroom, ducking behind round tables clad in expensive linens and gold inlaid china, skirting billowing gowns as they spun on the dancefloor. She slipped in and out of the shadows with a slowly emptying champagne glass pinched delicately between two fingers.

Despite her annoyance in being there, she could not deny the beauty of the night. The massive room was decorated in glamorous gold and pearl accents. Heavy velvet curtains hung over the windows on each wall, letting in a glimpse of the moonlit garden outside. The floors were marble that had been polished to perfection, and a warm candlelight glow illuminated the room.

It felt as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

A fairy tale about a sad girl watching the party from afar, alone but for the bubbles in her glass.

Which, sadly, were now gone.

Y/N sighed heavily and looked across the dancefloor at the long bar that stretched across the back wall of the ballroom. A hundred guests in suits and gowns, feathers and masks, twirled in front of her, blocking the path. Silently, she weighed the pain of entering the waltzing throng over going another moment without a healthy buzz in her head. She took a breath. She took a step.

Her heels clicked rhythmically as she laid her course for the bar. She kept her eyes on the goal, carefully maneuvering through the dancing couples, wondering if they’d all been to some class she hadn’t been invited to. All their steps seemed identical; all the women spun with the same flourish. She shook her head. Life should never be so choreographed.

After nearly tripping over a dragging tail of taffeta, Y/N finally made it to the bar and braced herself on the top. As she caught her breath, a deep but soft laugh hit her ear.

She turned toward the sound and spied a large man leaning on the bar a few feet away. He turned as she did, leaning one elbow on the bartop and kicking a long leg over the other. His tuxedo was immaculate and perfectly tailored; his shoes shined like the stones below. He wore a mask of black with silver adornment, and two crisp blue eyes scanned her form from beneath. She could feel them sneak down her body, lingering a bit in the deep curve of her waist and at the globe of her ass.

She cleared her throat, drawing his eyes up to hers.

“Something funny, Slick?” she asked, lips pursed in clear annoyance.

The man grinned. His lips were full and pink beneath a thin scruff of a beard.

“I liked your dance,” he said in reply.

She was startled by his accent - elegant and somehow too perfectly English, as if he were pretending to be from across the Atlantic. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure him out.

It was nearly impossible. The masks were a problem.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why, but she felt that he needed to work a little harder to get her attention. Maybe she was bored, maybe the shock of his voice had her aflutter. Whatever it was, she turned up the sass.

“Yeah, well, I was a ballerina in a past life.”

Again, he laughed. A little louder, a little more enticing.

“I can see that. Prima ballerinas often trip over themselves and end up slamming into tables.”

She bit back a laugh and turned back to meet his gaze. “We take a special class for that.”

The man cocked his head towards her champagne flute. “And with an empty glass, no less.”

“What can I say, I’m very good at my job.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bar and took a step closer. “May I buy you another?”

Her eyes slid up from his shoes to the loose, curly mop of black hair atop his head. He was tall and broad, and looked as solid as a statue. Her pulse quickened.

“I’m pretty sure it’s free,” she teased.

He stopped a foot from her side. “Still…” With a quick snap of his fingers, he called for the bartender and ordered them both another round.

“A dirty martini, Mr. Bond?” She smiled at his order.

“Shaken, not stirred,” he replied, lifting his glass.

His smile was as intoxicating as the golden liquid in her glass and butterflies swirled in her stomach.

Each took a sip, swallowing slowly with their eyes locked. The blue crashed over her and Y/N lost herself in the sparkle of his smiling gaze.

Worried that she was staring too hard, she tore herself away and let out a hard breath.

“So… how do you know the bride?” she asked, trying to pry his identity free.

He licked a drop of vodka from his lip. “I don’t.”

She laughed gently. “Wedding crasher, huh?” She leaned closer, dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t turn you in.”

He moved in even closer. A warm scent pulsed off of him, flooding her senses with leather and vanilla and something she couldn’t place. Something spicy that made her mouth water so much she forgot that she was supposed to be playing hard to get.

“That’s kind of you,” he whispered. “I don’t think Charlie will press charges though.”

She smiled. “Ah, you’re on the groom’s side.”

“And you?”

His eyes fell to her lips and Y/N’s cheeks burned.

“I, uh… I work with Chloe, the- the bride.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. “Charlie and Chloe,” he said with a light laugh. “So many Cs.”

He was too cool, too confident yet sweet. She almost hated him.

“Who are you?” she asked, confused and irked. She had not come to the wedding to meet anyone, let alone a gorgeous, blue-eyed Brit, who may or may not actually be British.

Another slow sip guided her eyes back to his lips and she wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled.

“Henry,” he said softly.

She laughed. “Of course you are.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“Because of course your name is Henry. With your perfect accent and your sexy tuxedo…”

He stood up, suddenly towering over her, and tipped his head, eyes swiping over her again.

“And what about you? You’ve got to be called Celeste or Audrey or something classic and elegant.”

Y/N drained the rest of the champagne at the bottom of her glass and stood to face him properly. “Well, Prince Charming, why don’t you just call me Cinderella.”

Henry reached for her hand and she gave it jokingly.

His kiss was no joke, landing softly on her skin and making the rest of her shiver. She held her breath and nearly fainted when he looked up.

“Pleased to meet you, Cinderella.”

Her head swam a bit and she wondered if that was what swooning was.

“Charmed,” she said with a dreamy smile.

He held her gaze, swept a warm thumb over her knuckles. His touch was like fire and she wanted to run. Away from him or into his arms - she couldn’t decide. All she knew was that there was magic in the air and she could not seem to tear herself away from the mystery of his face. His eyes were tragically beautiful, as if she was lost at sea on a broken raft, thirsting and alone, but she had the comfort of the blue waves to keep her safe. She thought herself insane. He was just a man in a mask at a fancy wedding. Just a tall, impossibly fit, perfectly dressed man at a masquerade ball. A deliciously gorgeous man who smelled like drinking in front of a roaring fire in a cozy library filled with old books in some ancient castle in Scotland. A man who was still holding her hand and her gaze, stealing too many moments and breaths from her day.

Y/N shook herself and pulled her hand from his.

“I should… go…” She turned toward the room. She had to get away, had to free herself from the captivating stranger and return to ignoring her coworkers and the bride’s overly friendly family. “It was nice to meet you, Henry.”

His frown nearly cracked the earth beneath her feet.

“Don’t leave just yet,” he pleaded. “I… Well, I don’t really know anyone here and you’re…”

She looked back over her shoulder as he hesitated. “Yes?”

He blushed and sought comfort in his shoes. Such a beautiful sight: a strong, confident man instantly melting into shyness.

Blue eyes looked up. “Beautiful and enchanting and… I was hoping that we could dance.”

She nearly fell over, knocked out by his voice and charm. A quick breath steeled her nerves. “Sadly, I cannot.”

He stood up fully but somehow still seemed small. “Dance with me?”

“Dance at all,” she corrected.

He laughed. “Well, how about another drink and some conversation?”

With a sigh, Y/N looked back at the crowd, into the sea of indistinguishable masks and unfamiliar forms. Giving in, she nodded politely and spun around to the bar.

They ordered another round and took up residence at the end of the counter, half hidden in shadow, invisible to the other party-goers. Music soared above their heads but they could barely hear it, so engrossed in each other’s stories.

They spoke of simple things- movies they’d loved as children and that well-worn paperbacks were still tucked into their bookcases. She asked him about home and he talked about the London traffic and how he preferred to stay around the house on rainy days playing games on his PC. He poked her about work and she glossed over her job, insisting that they keep the conversation light and free from day-to-day struggles. They drank and laughed and fell even deeper into each other’s gaze.

It was strange to have a conversation with a stranger in a mask. She knew that he was handsome- his eyes were brilliant, his lips perfectly plump. His jaw was tight and his neck was thick. He was big and sturdy, yet gentle and bashful. Though most of his face was hidden, she knew he was perfect.

Perhaps a little too perfect.

But as the alcohol flowed and the night wore on, Y/N couldn’t find a reason anymore to run. The night had cast a spell around them and there was no escape. There was magic in the gilded accents around the room, in the symphony of violins that danced above their heads, in their true smiles and tentative touches.

Even if he wasn’t perfect, she thought, the moment was.

And the moment was suddenly broken.

A firm hand on her wrist dragged Y/N from her place at the bar and onto the dancefloor. The bride would not be ignored and refused to take no for an answer. Pained by the intrusion and the demand, Y/N reluctantly took Chloe’s hands and twirled her around. The skirt of the massive wedding dress billowed like a cloud around Chloe’s small frame and Y/N laughed as she was nearly caught up in the fabric.

Heart racing and smile wide, she turned back to Henry but was shocked to find his place empty. Their glasses sat abandoned on the bar and Prince Charming was nowhere to be found. She felt a tug in her chest and a dampness behind her eyes.

Before she could shrug it off as just a random encounter and push his blue eyes from her mind, a tap on the shoulder made her gasp.

She spun on the spot and found him there with a sweet smile and open arms.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, dipping into half a bow.

Excitement rushed through her and Y/N bit her lip. “I told you, I’m not a good dancer.”

Unwilling to let her back away, Henry scooped her up and held her close, one hand capturing hers and the other pressing gently into the small of her back. He leaned in and teased his lips at her ear.

“Then let me lead…”

His fingers pulsed against her back, guiding her to move against him. They turned a few times until she was dizzy in his arms, laughing as he whispered into her ear:

“Left… right… back… you’ve got it…”

His breath on her skin was like a gust of summer air, warm and delicious, flooding her body with calm.

“See? You’re not too bad at this.”

Y/N looked up into his eyes and felt the world fade away. They rose up together off of the dancefloor, floating gently above the other guests, impossibly alone in the crowd. She knew she was drunk, knew she’d pay for it in the morning, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t care that her friends were watching, probably whispering about the mysterious man she was dancing with. She didn’t care that she’d twice stepped on his toes or that there was no way she could hide the fact that being so close to him wasn’t turning her into a melted, lustful shell of what she usually was.

The music crescendoed and Y/N held her breath. Henry dipped his chin, blue eyes locked on her hers. The world slowed down, the seconds stretched on forever. She closed her eyes, savored his exhale against her lips. His hand slid gently up her back, fingers wove through her hair. She felt her legs grow weak, her stomach tensed, her heart skipped. He took a breath.

The band stopped short and Y/N startled as the crowd shited. The moment was gone, ripped away once more by the party swelling around them.

A rush of silk; the click of hundreds of heels. Cheers rose throughout the room as a giant cake was rolled out onto the dancefloor. It towered up to the ceiling with beautiful rows of white creme roses and pearls strategically placed to make the fondant glow in the warm light trickling down from the chandelier above.

As the guests closed in, Y/N was pulled out of Henry’s arms and her heart ached as he once again was out of her sight.

Black suits swarmed around her, heavy gowns brushed against her legs. Voices rang loud. Bodies closed in on all sides.

Breathless, she spun, searching for an exit, for a way to push through the throng.

A hand appeared and reached for her. She clasped his fingers and Henry raced toward the big doors to their left, pulling her free of the mob.

They tumbled out into the cool air and found relief as the doors closed behind them, blocking the music and the excitement, leaving them alone in the night.

The garden was dark but magically aglow with warm, golden light. Fairy lights twinkled around them, strung from bushes and topiaries, highlighting a stone path. Beyond, a labyrinth of tall evergreen waited for curious souls to venture inside, daring the branches to keep them from reaching the end.

Wonderstruck by the evening- the dramatic escape, the music, the champagne and Henry’s crystalline eyes- she stumbled. One single step turned her ankle and the deadly heels she never wore took her down.

Her gasp tore through the garden, but Henry was there to catch her fall. She swung in his strong arms and her fear turned to laughter.

“This is just absurd!” she said, steadying herself with a palm over his chest.

Henry was calm and stable, easily holding her upright. “What’s that?”

“I mean… You literally just swept me off of my feet.” She shook her head and with a blushing smile, pushed away. “This is getting silly.”

Away from his grasp, she teetered again and Henry took her hand before disaster could strike.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment,” he suggested, nodding towards a stone bench not far away. “Those shoes are dangerous.”

“You have no idea.”

She let him help her to the bench and watched in awe as he fell to one knee. Like an actual Prince Charming, he took Cinderella’s ankle in his hands and gently ran his fingers over the thin strap holding the shoe in place.

“You’re not swollen,” he reported. “That’s good.”

When he looked up, concern fading from his eyes, she gave up trying to suppress the enchantment of the night and took a deep breath.

Hands cupped around his face, she leaned in and finally met his lips.

Startled but delighted, Henry pushed up to meet her, taking her once more in his strong arms and kissing her properly.

Tiny lights flickered in the breeze, soft music seeped out into the garden, and Prince Charming and Cinderella found each other in the dark. Lips hungry and hands wild; heat mixing between them like a budding fire.

When the clock struck twelve, it chimed loudly and they broke apart, laughing.

“Seems about right,” she joked, looking towards the wedding. “Party ends at midnight.”

Henry dragged a thick finger over her collarbone. “Does that mean you’ll turn into a pumpkin and disappear?”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know when the last time you read Cinderella was, but… no.”

He licked her taste from his lip. “So you don’t need to go then?”

Her smile fell. “I do…”

“You could stay…” He dipped his chin and looked up through the mask, blue eyes dark in the light. “We could… find a spot-”

Y/N shook her head and reached for his hand. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have to be back in the city tomorrow for work.” She lifted his fingers to her lips and left him with a final kiss.

Henry sighed. “Pity.”

She nodded and gathered her strength to stand and do what she should have done hours ago- run. Except this time, she was certain she meant it to be into his arms. Only this time, she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry…”

Quickly, she turned, carefully stepping back onto the stone path and away from the mystery man with his intoxicating voice and perfectly engrossing kiss.

He stood and called to her, desperate for one more look at his Cinderella.

“Wait-”

She paused, hand on the big glass door, heart in her throat. “Yes?”

“Don’t I even get to know your real name?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “It’s Y/N.”

Henry bowed his head in thanks and when he came up, the mask came off, slowly revealing a face she’d only imagined in her dreams.

He blushed at her shocked stare and laughed gently.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

She sighed, blissful and lost in a dream that she prayed would last the rest of her life.

“You too…”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@akshi8278 @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05  

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #fluff #romance #one shot #maybe more if it goes well i have ideas

[aleksanderscult]

Today I will rant because I want to about that character and how he's treated by some

Lately the rapist comments about him and how he was selfish are getting multiplied which makes me both angry and sad.

When you have the author itself say that she saw the King and Queen as the real villains and that we can make a case about the Darkling's worst crimes then how do some people indirectly call him the worst thing that happened to Ravka and to Alina?

They only treat Aleksander as a villain, emphasizing his sexually creepy moments and selfish motivations and completely disregard the human side of him or his traumatic past.

The Darkling did not spend 500 (and possibly more) years of his life to protect his people and stop the wars for you to call him a selfish evil man. If you want to call someone selfish then look at Baghra that stays warm in her hearth and not giving a single fuck for Ravka. If you want to call someone selfish then take a look at the King and Queen who grow fat and rich while their people and starving and think that being orphaned is "marvelous". If you want to call someone selfish then look at Mal who wanted to leave Ravka and never look back (and in the meantime, it was his country that was in danger) or even Alina.

The Darkling was quite literally the only person that decided to take action for a persecuted group of people without wavering once.

You don't give a single glimpse at his tragic elements. You ignore them. But his isolated and traumatic childhood, abusive mother figure, near-immortality that made him witness people he loved die, rare powers that have isolated him further and desperation to see the Grisha being respected and accepted says hello 🙋.

You call us fans of the category "The Darkling did nothing wrong". Well, just because we don't talk about his crimes every day does not mean we don't know about them. We just decide to talk about the Darkling in our blogs as a human, tragic figure that was much more complex than his "evil" actions. If we wanted to read about the Darkling and his evilness we would read KoS and RoW everyday. Zoya, Tolya and Genya were orators of that. But maybe we just decided to look deeper than this. To cast light to the parts he kept hidden and were so human and still valid.

Some call us even misogynistic for judging Alina. I didn't know that just because we judge one fictional, female character means that we hate all women. Wow. For your information, most of the times we judge the way she was handled by the author more than the character herself.

But having people making the Darkling a simple villain with no humanity is probably one of the worst butchering of a character I've ever seen.

Some people literally took an intriguing, complex character with selfless motivations and turned him into a power-hungry tyrant. Bye guys 💀

I don't know. If you expect from me at least to post about how the Darkling was evil, a tyrant and a rapist then you are on the wrong page. I only write about the Darkling as human most of all. With tragic elements and human emotions and vulnerabilities that were actually there. But some people cannot read past the word "villain".

#“But...but...what he did to Alina...” #What he *really* did to Alina was to open her eyes to the truth and she only kept them closed until the very end #The fact that you are stuck only in his “sexually abusive” ways is stupid and childish #the darkling #pro darkling #aleksander morozova #pro aleksander morozova #alina starkov #darklina #pro darklina #shadow and bone #grishaverse trilogy #grishaverse

[lovelywritinglady]

Flamboyant Past Lovers

Tengen Uzui x fem!Hashira Reader x Kyojuro Rengoku

Angst, Fluff, Reader is monogamous. Tengen decided that he wanted other wives despite your protests. So you decide to leave.

Your Pov

I have no desire to leave. I’m fact just thinking about leaving makes my heart burn with a sadness I’ve never experienced. The love I had for him was stronger than any feeling I had. I knew leaving him was not going to be easy. I know he loves me, but not enough. He desired a large family which meant more women in that family. The day I met the three women was the day I knew our love died. I wore a fake smile that sad uncomfortably on my features. Not even Tengen noticed how uncomfortable I was and he was good at seeing that. I had no idea that he felt this way because he had never discussed his desires about a large family before. All he told me was that he wanted a family. He would talk about the kids that we would have together and how we would grow old too. I guess he forgot to mention that he wanted to grow old with other women too. He proposed to marry all of us because he claimed to love us all. After that I knew I had to leave him. I guess all those extra days he would be gone were to see them. Or when he told you he had a mission to go on the same time you did, but when you asked him about it he would immediately change the subject. He would talk about how he wanted to be more flamboyant in his life and how he wished he could do more. So I guess this was his solution. When I talked to him afterwards about it and how it made me feel uneasy, he just told me that this would make him happy and that I should just go along with it. Because if I loved him then I would let him marry them. Out of guilt and sadness I said he could because I knew that he would do it without my permission or not. What I didn’t tell him was that I was leaving. For I could not love a man that loves another more than he loves me.

Now here I am packing the last of my things, not like I own a lot. If he wants this big family he can have it. I just am not comfortable with it. And I never will be. He gets what he wants and hopefully one day I’ll be able to be loved by someone who will only love me. I hope Tengen is finally happy and that he gets the family he’s always wanted with the women he’s always wanted. I just wish I had been enough I really do , but now I have to move on with my life. Im one rank away from being a hashira so that’s what I will be focusing on that as I heal from the would Tengen left. I wrote him a letter explaining why I’m leaving and to not look for me because this is what I need to do for myself. He did what he needed for him so now I’ll take care of me. And with that I left our shared home and all of the memories with it. Now I will become stronger so that I can earn the title of Hashira and maybe find someone who can love only me.

Tengen's Pov

Shit I was too harsh in y/n. I wish she understood how I’m feeling about all of this. She should know that this doesn’t change how I feel about her. In fact I love that girl more than I could ever love the other three. Those girls are nice sure and I’m happy to be marrying them, but they could never compare to her. Maybe marring them is not the right call. I probably should have talked to y/n before I brought them to meet her. She did say that she was cool with it so maybe after some time all five of us can be a happy family. Just the thought of that warms my heart. As I walked up to me and y/n and soon to be Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru’s shared home I was welcomed with an uneasy silence. Normally when she’s inside the house it sounds peaceful. But now I’m hearing something that makes me feel worried. I called out for my lover to hear nothing but silence back. I then began looking all over the house and our surrounding property looking for her, but she was no where to be found. Fear filled me and just I was about to leave our home to look further when I caught a glimpse of a beautifully folded piece of paper that had my name written on it. I quickly picked it up and open the paper. As I read I knew the writing was hers. She has always had the most beautiful penmanship. However, her handwriting brought forth something that made my whole body shake with pure anguish. She’s gone and she won’t be coming back. All because I wanted to marry other women. She stated that she desired to be loved by someone who only wanted to love her. That she was leaving so that I could be happy and get the family I wanted. And that she would become a Hashira like me and find herself. The last thing she wrote was that she loved me and she hopes I have a good life. I put the paper down as my vision became blurry and my hand were shaking. She was gone and it was all my fault. She thought that her not being here would make me a happy man. That’s not the case she’s the reason I was happy I was just selfish for wanting more. Now she’s gone. She’ll become stronger while I marry three women I’ll never love the same as I loved her. Despite my sadness I’m proud of her and I pray that she gets stronger so she can accomplish her dreams. And that she stays alive. I will see her again when she becomes a Hashira. I just know that she’ll be the most flashy Hashira of them all.

Two years later…

Your pov

It’s officially been two years since I’ve seen him. In that time I became the mountain hashira.I mastered mountain breathing which has allowed me to become a very strong hashria. And in those two years I found someone who only wants me. His name is Kenjurio Rengoku the flame hashira. He makes me feel whole again like I’m something to be treasured and not discarded. I feel stronger with him and it helps that we are both hashiras. I can safely say that I love him.

Kyojuro and I were walking down the path to the masters house. He has called the hashiras for a meeting. This is my first time officially meeting the other hashiras so I’m kinda of excited to meet them. And I’m excited to see the master again he is someone I trust so when he calls I answer even if that means I have to see Tengen again. I started to remember everything that happened and some of the old feelings came back which made me feel slightly nervous.

“Y/n, y/n, y/n!” Kyojuro screamed

“Oh shit, yeah sorry love what is it” I questioned

“What are you thinking about? Are you nervous to see Uzui again? Or perhaps something else is bothering you?” He said loudly

“I’m not nervous about it don’t worry. He got what he wanted and I’m happy that I’m with you. That’s what I’m thinking about” I spoke to him

He stopped and faced me which caused me to come to a halt. His right hand ever so gently touched my face which caused me to shiver. He then leaned down and pressed his lips against mine for a moment. He then pressed his forehead against mine and looked into my eyes which made me blush by how intense his flaming eyes were. A large goofy smile graced his features and he spoke.

“Whatever happens it will be okay. I know it will. You’re a hashira now and a strong one at that. You captured my heart and my soul. I love you and if seeing him again make you weary I will vouch for you to the master and tell him you were sick or something.” He said with sincerity.

“I love you too Kyojuro. And no the master called for us so I will be there. Thank you for looking out for me, but I promise I will be okay. Like you said I’m strong and you’ll be there so I will be okay. Kyojuro you’re part of the reason I’ve been able to move on from everything. So let’s go the master is expecting us.” I said with a smile.

A little while later we made it to the masters mansion. The other hashira were already lined up outside on the stone walkway of the masters house. Kyojuro and I made our way and I stood next to Giyu who was on my left while my lover was on my right. All of the other hashira are strong people who have killed many demons and saved many lives. I was proud to be standing there with them. However, Tengen Uzui was not present. I began to worry slightly but my worry was cut short by a booming voice of confidence.

“Sorry I’m a little late I was busy dealing with a pesky demon that talked too much. Don’t I killed it in a flashy way to make up for it.” Uzui boasted as he made his way next to Kyojuro.

I straightened my back and kept my eyes forward awaiting the master. Kyojuro managed to sense my nervousness and held my hand which brought me comfort. I felt a pair of piercing eyes on me so I looked to my right only to see Tengen looking at me. His gaze seemed to soften and he sent me a small smile that gave me chills. We looked at eachother for a few more seconds then the master came out and began talking. Immediately I bowed and so did the other hashira to show our respect to him. Soon after we all stood up to see this boy with an interesting scar on his forehead begging us to let his sister who unfortunately became a demon live.

Soon the master decided to let them both live which at first I wasn’t fond of. However, if the master says it’s alright then I will trust him. I just hope she never hurts anyone in the future. Having a demon on our side might actually prove useful. Kyojuro and Tengen both opposed the idea and still do, but I’m hopeful for the future. Kyojuro and I were planning on visiting his father and little brother. As we were saying our goodbyes I felt a tap on my shoulder and immediately I knew who it was so I turned around to greet him.

“Y/n it’s been awhile. How have you been?” Tengen asked with sincerity.

“It has and I’ve been doing quite well. As you see I’ve become a hashira. I mastered mountain breathing. I heard that you married Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru. How are they doing?” I asked with a smile.

“You’ve gotten much stronger and flashier than the last time I saw you. And my wives are doing quite well, thank you” He replied

We stood there just looking at eachother. It was uncomfortable but after two years of not seeing eachother after what we were it wasn’t expected.

“I’m gonna be real honest. I miss you the day you left me broke me to my very core. I wanna say that I’m sorry for what I did. You didn’t deserve a shitty lover. I wasn’t being very flashy by forcing other people into our relationship.” He said honesty

“Tengen I forgive you. It’s been a while and I’ve been able to heal from that. I mean I became a hashira and I’ve been able to save so many people because of it. That’s made my life worth living.” I said while putting my right hand on his shoulder.

“That’s great y/n I have been worrying about you but you’re strong. And I know it’s not my place to ask this but I still love you and I’ve loved you ever since I met you. You made me into the man I am today. I took your love for granted, but I want to try again with you. Yes, I’m married but I still crave you y/n and I want to know if you still love me too” Tengen spoke in a hopeful voice.

“Part of me does still care for you and love you, but I moved on Tengen. I found someone who loves me and only me. I found Kyojuro Rengoku and he’s made me incredibly happy. Thank you for the offer but I have to decline. I believe I have a happy future with him and I love him. Just promise me that you will take care of your wives” I said with tears forming in my eyes. Tengen then wiped them away and pulled me into a comforting hug and spoke.

“Then I’m happy for you. He’s a flashy man and a strong hashira. I hope he can love you the way that I couldn’t. I love you y/n and always will okay. I promise I’ll take care of them. If we ever have a mission together with just the two of us I’ll protect you too” he said in a whisper

“I know you will. Thank you.” I said as a single tear fell down my face.

We pulled apart and I heard Kyojuros voice telling me we had to go. I looked up at Tengen one last time and gave him the biggest smile I could as we said our goodbyes. As I left I turned my head to see him still looking at me and I swear I thought I saw a tear fall.

“Everything okay love?” Kyojuro questioned

“Yeah, I just needed to speak with Tengen about something.” I responded

“I’m guessing it went well then” he said in his booming voice

“It did” I said to him as I held onto his arm on the path to his family home.

I was so happy and content with how my life was going. I knew my life would be hard considering I was a hashira. Yet what I didn’t know was that my happiness would soon be destroyed…

Thank you so much for reading! It’s been awhile since I’ve written. I haven’t had any motivation to do so. Hopefully this is okay! ❤️

Please feel free to request, comment, and reblog

Click here to see what I’ll write for and click HERE to see my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

#tengen x reader #tengen uzui #tengen uzui x reader #demon slayer #uzui tengen #uzui tengen x y/n #uzui tengen x reader #uzui tengen x you #uzui x you #uzui x y/n #uzui x reader #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer fanfic #tengen fluff #tengen x you #tengen x y/n #uzuitengen #rengoku kyōjurō #kyojuro fluff #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro rengoku x y/n #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #demon slayer tengen #sound hashira #tengen x wives x reader #kimetsu no yaiba tengen #demon slayer uzui #uzui Tengen x

[stray-kaz]

A Murder of Crows : a Kaz Brekker x f!reader FF mini : Part One

Summary: Modern au in which Kaz Brekker and his Crows are in the rescue business. They run an underground anti-trafficking mob. The only thing Kaz hates more than liars are powerful people who take advantage of others and the Diamondbacks are the worst of the lot.

A/N: I sincerely hope I have the impetus to keep this going. Thank you to everybody who showed interest.

Warnings: Evidence of abuse, fear of men. (Kaz thinks you are only falling for him because he saved you. Kaz is a very smart idiot).

He was covered in blood the first time you saw him, a grim reaper, dark clothed and limping. But he was far from lame.

"Demjin" you gasped.

He grinned then, a white slash in a bloody mask.

"If you like."

He extended a gloved hand towards you and you took it gingerly, rising from the dirty floor in a cloud of chiffon and expensive perfume. He glanced at your clothes with distaste, a wrathful sneer curling at his mouth. You glanced down, ashamed, and tried to cover the tattooed snake that writhed down your forearm, white diamonds patterning its back. But he shook his head, gripped your chin between gloved finger and thumb and lifted your gaze to his bitter one.

“This is not your fault” he said stonily. “Life bit you. Now you get to bite back.”

He let you go and limped through the exit, expecting you to follow and not looking back to check.

Light blinded you the second you stepped outside of the dark compound you’d been existing in for months. You kept your eyes fixed hard on the back and shoulders of the man who had let you out. Curious how, after everything you had suffered at the hands of men, you were capable of trusting this one. He was walking arrogance, pure as coal, but you believed he might just hate the men who took you and used you as much as you did.

“Your name?” you asked, reaching for his sleeve.

Your fingers had barely brushed it when he turned to look down at you with eyes like ice, the same moment someone else called to him and his head snapped away, his name ringing in your ears.

“Kaz!”

You looked up to see a tall, lanky man bounding towards you, a gleaming gun strapped to each hip, barely hidden beneath the folds of his coat. Instinct bolted and you ducked behind Kaz, hiding in his shadow. He glanced behind him, irritation melting into something else, something strange and cloying, when he glimpsed your wide eyes and the ring of dark finger bruises painted around your throat. He hadn’t been able to see them in the dark building.

He held up a hand to stop the young man in his tracks; warm brown eyes tried to find you around the wall that was Kaz Brekker, but Kaz shifted his stance on his bad leg every time he moved, so eventually he gave up and stood back, hands spread wide.

“Jesper” Kaz said quietly. “Bring me Nina and Inej.”

“But, can’t I even say -”

“No” Kaz interrupted. “You can’t. Bring me Nina and Inej.”

Jesper sighed and loped off, broad shoulders bunching under the fabric of his coat.

“Thank you” you mumbled.

He didn’t say you’re welcome, nothing like that.

“Jesper is good” Kaz told you instead. “One day you’ll see it. He is everything I’m not.”

That was your first warning.

You were driven to a place they fondly called the Slat, but you were not expecting a well kept, well lit apartment building, three levels high and packed to the roof with small luxurious one and two bedroom apartments. The two young women Kaz had sent Jesper to find for you, Nina and Inej, hustled you inside and into the waiting elevator, leaving Kaz and Jesper to find their own way up.

Inej was Suli, dark eyed and beautiful, still carrying the ghosts of a similar past to your own; you could see it in her eyes and in her sad smile when she looked at you. Nina had the wide hipped, strong look of the working class Kaelish, but turned out to be Ravkan, a top of her class heartrender and gorgeous to boot.

She held your hand in hers as she led you back out of the elevator on the second storey, producing a delicate key from inside her sleeve and unlocking the door to usher you inside, handing you the key as soon as you had stepped across the threshold.

“This is yours” Inej said, gesturing at the room. “One bedroom, one bathroom, and a small kitchen. You now hold the only key.”

You stared at her and Nina, surprised. You turned the key over and over between your fingers.

“The only key?” you asked softly. “Truthfully?”

Inej nodded.

“Truthfully.”

“What about Kaz? He owns this, doesn’t he?”

Inej glanced at Nina and you followed the look, waiting.

“Kaz will leave you alone, but if there’s an emergency, he doesn’t need keys” Nina said diplomatically. “Now, sugar, there are fresh clothes in the wardrobe. I’m sure something will fit, but if not, let Kaz know and he’ll fix it. He might look and sound like a demjin, but you can trust him. He’s wicked for all the right reasons.”

She squeezed your hand and Inej gave you another fleeting smile before they turned and left through the still open door. You closed it slowly behind them, locked it, then turned to face your room. Yours.

You sank down onto the fluffy carpet and closed your eyes, thanking the Saints for the demjin who had saved your life, right as the first tear fell.

Tagging: @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r​

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x female reader #liss writes #shadow and bone fic #soc fic #six of crows #a murder of crows

[alittlefrenchtree]

So. The Idea of You.

It’s not spoilers free. I’m talking about details and a couple of (very expected) plot twists.

As quickly mentioned before, I hadn’t huge expectations for the movie and I’ve watched only because I’m interested with what Nick as an actor, even on projects that aren’t for me or that I’m not really enthusiastic about.

My main goal was to not be angry at the end of it. And I’ve kind of succeed? I was briefly angry after one hour and forty minutes BUT nobody acted on the said stupid idea so I didn’t stay angry at the end. Yay.

Things I liked about the movie :

-Roughly the first… Lets say 50 minutes to be generous (roughly until the night at the nyc hotel included). It was silly and cringe and absolutely ridiculous but it was fun. I think it’s even funnier if you followed a band when you were a teenager and read or write the same self insert scenario in fan fictions. And since I did, I laughed a lot. Both Nick and Anne sold the thing from their first scene together. As seen during the promo tour, the duo works quite well on screen.

-The very few glimpses we had at the weight of celebrity on Hayes’ shoulders. When Solène asked if it happens a lot, when he gets recognized in the car, when simple daily life things as even grabbing a thing to eat is an impossible problem to solve, when he understands it’s because he’s famous that he’s loosing his relationship… It’s one of my favorite subjects to write about so I would have been on board with that anywhere and anytime but watching it on Hayes Nick’s face broke my heart all the same. I know this is not that kind of movie but I would have been delighted if it was more about that.

-The very few tries at portraying how boysbands created around a casting process destroy the kids they’re hiring. How each member is pushed in a little box to fit a role that is identifiable, very narrowed and marketable. How music is never at the center of anything for this kids who are dreaming of it. How they all have an expiration date and how they’re all left alone with huge mental health problems that usually leads to self-destruction. I find ironical that in a movie that is described as something for 40yo women who were told they have an expiration date, it’s the 24yo male character who is the target of that through an industry of billions of dollars in their script.

Things I disliked :

-…everything else? I swear I tried to keep an open mind about light, fun and silly cute but the majority of what I’ve watched and heard only felt shallow and empty. I was hard to root for a couple when the majority of the development of their relationship is glossed over. In the second half, bounding and solving problems are mainly portrayed the same way (tonguing each other romantically kissing). Any attempt to develop something past the first half of the movie is terrible. The writing is atrocious even for a light and fun thing. There are cute and fun moments in the second half but there are so little and rare I was mostly bored out of my mind.

-the person who wrote the PR kit and sent Anne and Nick in front of every camera around the world to say that it’s a movie about female pleasure and that female pleasure is a whole character of the movie on the base of an unrealistic 12 secondes fingering scene alone. Straight women around the world, you have my whole compassion, because that was sad as fuck. I understand all too well the need to take liberties with marketing speeches but damn 💀

Here you go! Remember that every word is a personal opinion, disliking half a movie is different from hate and hating the people who worked on it and if you want to write to me saying you disagree with every word I wrote, it’s ok too. But I suggest you to write more arguments than insults if you don’t want to waste your time 😘

#the idea of you #the idea of you spoilers #weekly movie reviews

[suzannahnatters]

I have finished watching MR SUNSHINE, and there was so much that I loved about this prestige kdrama. The writing of the heroine was SO good in how it discussed and defied some of the worse kdrama-heroine tropes. There was amazingly trenchant and deeply nuanced social criticism, gorgeous cinematography, lots of fascinating history, the warmest and most positive depiction of Christianity I've ever seen in a kdrama, men who drink respect women juice, the beautiful and angsty Gu Dong-Mae, FABULOUS period clothing, and rivals in love learning to put aside their differences in favour of shooting imperialists.

But the show has a major flaw - a flaw that was particularly interesting to me, because it's the precise sort of flaw that I would be most prone to. The screenwriter, who does such brilliant work in so many other ways, is clearly most fascinated by the themes and symbolism she keeps bubbling away in the story's subtext. The problem is that these themes and symbolism - which delightfully clever - are not actually supported by the storytelling, and particularly by the characterisation.

And it's a really fun, rich, resonant bit of symbolism: Ae-Sin is not just a character in the story, she's the living embodiment of Joseon Korea. She's beautiful, desirable, noble, privileged, gradually awakening to a life of hardship and struggle and resistance. Each of the three male leads in the story has a different complicated relationship with her. Eugene has run away from Korea, but returning as an adult cannot help falling in love with the land and the people in defiance of the nobility who mistreated him as a boy. Gu Dong-mae was horribly oppressed by his homeland but cannot help loving it anyway; the Korea which oppressed both men also saved their lives through small acts of kindness. And finally, Hee-Sung, Korea's richest son, is her approved betrothed, but past injustices committed by his family against the people Ae-Sin cares about stand between them. The three men fall in love, not with Ae-Sin, but with their homeland. They express their love for the woman by sacrificing themselves for the homeland; in dedicating themselves to her, they cannot help dedicating themselves to the fight for freedom.

This is why the story had to have a sad ending. None of these men can espouse the whole country; they can only die for her, while Ae-Sin - Korea itself - lives on, alone and victorious, even in exile.

This symbolism is itself delightfully rich, deftly painted, and rewarding to think back upon once you see it. There's only one problem: it doesn't. make. sense.

From the very start of the show, I felt a little impatient with the writing because the relationships between the heroine and her three suitors are so poorly developed. The feelings come out of nowhere. Take Gu Dong-Mae, for instance: he last met this woman when she saved his life as children. Now, it just takes a brush of her dress across his fingers to get him pining madly for her. Hee-Sung, after avoiding her for the best part of a decade, gets one glimpse of Ae-Sin at the washing-line and just like that conceives an undying passion for her. The central relationship, between Ae-Sin and Eugene, doesn't fare much better. The problem is that the story demands each of the male leads to sacrifice himself for Ae-Sin by the end of the show, and I simply couldn't understand why they should. They all have multiple other women pining for them, and Ae-Sin doesn't give two of them the slightest encouragement to hope. I wanted them so badly to find happiness with one of the other women, and they never did.

What MR SUNSHINE needed was not primarily rich and complex symbolism - it was believable characterisation and relationship development. As it was, the lack of substance to the relationships cheapened the grand historical tragedy which was being told. When at the climactic moment the last of the three leads sacrifices himself for the heroine, it felt cheesy and unintentionally funny, rather than tragic.

I loved so much about this story, but the heart of it never clicked for me, and it's a crying shame that with all that budget and talent, it wasn't better written. And that, for me, will be the central tragedy of MR SUNSHINE.

#mr sunshine #gu dong mae #eugene choi #kim hee sung #kdrama #asian drama

[lymtw]

Realistically, how do you think reader would get Toji to be vulnerable with them? I like to think he’s very closed off with his deeper emotions and really struggles to communicate (maybe even not thinking he’ll get close to reader in their early meeting/relationship especially if it started out as one of his means for financial stability).

Part two and part three to this ask

Realistically, I do think it takes a lot to get Toji to open up about his struggles. He meets you, and doesn't differentiate anything about you and the other women he's seduced before. He has the same mentality where he sees you as solely a sexual conquest. He has a moment of realization where he notices that suddenly he sees you everywhere. He's in same places you're at, and frequently. Strangely, it's never awkward because you don't retain him in your mind as the man you had a one night stand with. You always wave, politely, before going on your way.

Fast forward to your relationship. You don't mind that Toji is crashing with you for "a couple weeks" while he's in the area. If anything it makes you happy that you get to see him so often. It gives you hope that you will get to know him even better. He sleeps in your bed, next to you, and with this comes getting to know that Toji is a very lustful man. You find that he doesn't keep his hands to himself when you sleep together. If he's not groping you, he's not comfortable. Lingering touches turn into full blown intimacy when things get heated enough.

I'd believe that Toji has a moment of clarity, where he notices that you aren't wavering. You hold your own against him, standing your ground as all of his attributes reveal themselves. The good and the bad. After another night of intimacy, you decide to test the waters. You ask him why throughout his entire time knowing you and staying with you, he's never talked about his family, or his past in general. He instantly clams up, dodging the question like it's glass being thrown at him.

You try again and again, and it's not until you feel like you're being made fun of for caring, that you let up. Toji notices the shift in your demeanor. The environment is tense, and you shrunk in on yourself. You aren't talking, only humming responses to him. It's only when you turn away that Toji realizes how bad it would actually be to mess things up with you. You care. You let him into your home, not caring that he lied about only staying there for a few weeks. You offered your hand to a man who was fighting for his life, literally.

So, he asks if you really want him to open this rotten can of worms. It wouldn't be something lighthearted or possibly something you could handle without having emotions, and you told him that you weren't there to judge him. You were there to listen and understand those parts of him he so desperately wanted to heal.

So he told you about his family and his past, and you cried so much, not understanding how he could tell you that he suffered with a straight face. He revealed that his job as an assassin was his ticket to survival. He made so much money off of it, but he was financially irresponsible. He developed a gambling addiction when he was at the lowest point in his life, blowing all his money when he had the chance.

You couldn't be mad at him, even when he told you that he has no home away from where he sleeps with you every night. You felt so sad and Toji could see it in your red, swollen eyes. They twinkled with sorrow, crystals cascading down your face. He gave you a glimpse of what he went through and it completely destroyed you, emotionally.

He tries to lighten the mood again by telling you that you'll dehydrate yourself with how much you're crying, but you don't hear it. You end up throwing arms around him and sobbing into his chest, wanting to feel his natural body heat against you, because after hearing the brief, summarized backstory of his life, you felt like a dead body. Cold.

(Sorry this got so long, but this is my take on it)

#❁ mal can talk ❁

[wowbright]

Fic: Blessing (Spring/Summer 2012)

Fandom/pairing: Glee, pre-Kurt/Blaine

Event: December Klaine Fanworks Challenge 2023, day 19: assist

Words: ~ 1250 words                                

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: During his junior year of high school, Kurt receives a glimpse of his future through his patriarchal blessing.

Notes: This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe and a new chapter in Small Things, which I thought I had completed in 2015. Back then, I wrote some notes around Kurt's patriarchal blessing, but it was too fragmented to include—I had a deadline for a fandom event, so I didn't have time to polish it up. On a chapter of Out of Eden I recently posted, @georgiegems asked about patriarchal blessings and why Blaine’s was so significant to him, so I figured now is the time to write that part of Kurt's story out. (This is NOT a spoiler for Out of Eden.)

You can read here or on AO3. The AO3 version includes what's here plus the complete text of Kurt’s patriarchal blessing.

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

“I’ve been praying about you,” Bishop Longquist says to Kurt one Sunday a few weeks after Kurt comes out. “I think it’s time you had your patriarchal blessing.”

A patriarchal blessing only comes once in a person’s lifetime. It’s a piece of personal scripture—a message from Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to a faithful member of the church, delivered through an ordained member of the priesthood called a patriarch.

Kurt is caught off guard. He only came out to the bishop two months ago. The bishop was so loving and so understanding that Kurt felt prompted, a few weeks later, to confess what happened with Karofsky. That went well, too—maybe even better than Kurt wanted it to go. Kurt felt dirty and like he needed to repent, but Bishop Longquist said it wasn't Kurt’s fault, so he had nothing to repent of. Kurt knows what the bishop said made sense, but he still feels like there should be some kind of time requirement between getting kissed by a boy and receiving something so important as a patriarchal blessing. “Shouldn’t I wait a little longer?”

“The time to hear the Lord’s guidance for your life is now, don’t you think?”

“But I’m …” They’re in the hallway. A group of women stand outside the Relief Society room. Boys are filing past them in twos and threes to priesthood quorum. He lowers his voice. “My problem.”

Bishop Longquist smiles. It’s a sad, knowing smile, full of love and carrying the weight of the world with it because of that love. “You’re worthy, Kurt.”

A few weeks later, Kurt and Burt and Carole drive up to Toledo to where the patriarch lives. Kurt’s never met him before. His house is large, practically a mansion, and overlooking Maumee Bay. The patriarch’s wife is in a pink rayon dress with box pleats in the skirt. She wears pearls around her neck. She guides them to the home office and sets glasses of ice water on coasters that line the edge of the patriarch’s desk.

The patriarch himself has white hair, white skin, and a dark suit with an understated gray silk tie. He’s exactly what Kurt expected.

They sit on opposite sides of the desk, talking for a few minutes about school and Kurt’s longing to go on a mission. He can’t bring himself to let go of Carole’s hand, even though his own is raining sweat. Kurt skirts over glee club and doesn't mention his interest in fashion or the fact that he finds so much beauty in other boys. He’s not ashamed of being gay, exactly, but he doesn't want to arouse this stranger’s suspicions. It's not like God is likely to mention it anywhere during the patriarchal blessing—his gayness might be part of who he is on earth, but it's probably not part of his eternal character—so there's no need to bring it up at all.

The patriarch explains that the blessing comes from Heavenly Father, not from him. He is merely the vessel. He listens for God’s voice, which he occasionally hears in the form of words, but more often in the form of spiritual impressions. When he receives the impressions, he translates them into his own words, much like Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon from Reformed Egyptian, a language he did not speak, through the power of God. His wife will record and transcribe the blessing, and copies will be sent both to Kurt and to church headquarters. The church will make three digital copies of the blessing and store them in three different places, and a microfilm copy will also be preserved in a secure vault. That means that if Kurt ever loses his personal copy, or if his progeny in the future should like a copy, they can always get one from the church. Kurt can also make as many copies as he wants of the blessing he receives, so that he always has it on hand to study and to bring comfort to him. “But keep it out of the way of wandering eyes,” the patriarch advises. “This is personal scripture, and you should not let others read it outside your family. You may sometimes be prompted to share a general message from your blessing with another person, but when you do this, do not repeat the exact words or go into specific details lest they take it on as the word of God for themselves. No one can assist in interpreting another person's patriarchal blessing for them. If you have questions about what anything in your blessing means, pray to Heavenly Father for guidance.”

The patriarch says a short prayer, inviting the Holy Ghost to be with them. He asks Kurt to pray, too. Kurt’s so nervous, he has no idea what he says.

Then it’s time. Burt and Carole scoot their chairs back a little to give the patriarch room. The patriarch’s wife sets a digital recorder on top of the desk and makes sure it’s on. Kurt takes deep breath after deep breath, preparing himself for the moment the patriarch is going to lay his hands on him. Even after all these years in the church, he’s not quite used to people touching him at these intimate, spiritual moments. His body wasn’t wired that way—not unless it’s someone who knows him inside and out, like his mom and Dad and Carole, and sometimes Mercedes.

Kurt closes his eyes and bows his head, feels the warmth of the patriarch’s hands radiating near him before they actually make contact. They’re so warm, Kurt thinks of fire, and then The Spirit of God like a fire is burning! It’s the first line of a hymn Kurt’s been singing before he even knew how to read, and when the next lines follow—The latter-day glory begins to come forth; The visions and blessings of old are returning—he knows the Holy Ghost is already there with them in the room, in Kurt’s heart, witnessing that this blessing is from God.

Kurt feels the words more than hears them. The blessing gives him flashes of his past and his future: the safety of the preexistence, living beside his Heavenly Parents without fear or desire; the wise face of Ephraim, from whom he and his parents and the greatest tribe of Israel are descended, preserved until the last days to gather all the tribes of Israel together; the comfort of sitting in his mother’s lap when she was still alive, him so small and her so large and all-encompassing; a solid hug from his father; the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement as he walks alongside his missionary companion, an indescribable warmth in his heart; pink sunlight bathing the interior walls of temple rooms he’s only imagined but never seen; the squirming solidity of children in his arms, his children, when they come home for the first time; an unfamiliar yet comforting hand holding his, firm and loving, its pads fitting perfectly into the grooves of his own palm; a man’s voice—not his father’s, not the patriarch’s—a voice Kurt can’t place and yet feels like home to him, saying, “God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.”

#december klaine challenge 2023 #day 19: assist #mormon!klaine #fic: small things #wowbright writes fic #klaine fic #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction

[pavardscherie]

Hi can I request something angsty with Benji where he used to date a player from Bayern’s women’s team but they broke up after she transferred teams and he sees her for the first time at a fancy event but she’s already moved on with someone else

if we ever meet again, benjamin pavard

summary benji & you used to date before you transferred to the women's team of borussia dortmund for a better chance to play. at the glorious bayern munich event, the two of you meet again. pairing benjamin pavard & female reader

izzy's talk. here we go again & again. i've literally watched benji videos the entire weekend, and i don't know, he's not leaving me. haha. pushing through requests now as long as we haven't moved apartments yet. the very detailed requests take much longer, cause i'm really trying to keep in the requested stuff, so they're still going to be written, no worries.

he did not remember how many weeks, certainly months, have passed since the last heartwarming conversation. excluding the heated arguments shortly before and while breaking up, the image of your bright smile radiating comfort off in waves stayed deeply burned in the back of his head. it was impossible to push it away since the night, you left the apartment with tears staining your cheeks.

it was his fault. he knew that. he blamed himself for each little drop that blemished your face with sadness and hurt. but staring at you, swaying and laughing from across the room didn't bandage the broken pieces of his heart. it was done, finished since you moved cities and had another man by your side.

by the way, your eyes twinkled in the bright, yellow light from the lamps above, and you pressed your fingertips to your chest while giggling about his words, benjamin knew, you moved on and he was certainly screwed for still believing.

haunted by the demons of his past, the regret from decisions he made, and they all had your face. a couple of teammates, who became like extended family, already informed benjamin about how much he has changed since the breakup. quieter, less laughter, and aggressive in too many innocent situations on the pitch.

badly cut fingernails scratched over his forehead, letting the long fingers brush through the curls afterward. being his old self again after the breakup wasn't possible. anything connected with you.

it was beautiful, certainly a rare relationship. and yet, ruined. and he had to act like it did not bother him anymore when your beautiful eyes found his figure on the other side of the room. glued to the ground, shifting slightly from the left to the right foot while forcing himself to smile at least mildly.

you moved on over the past weeks, it took you long to forget about benjamin pavard. the night it ended, broke more than just your heart, and it was difficult to puzzle the pieces back together until a new man appeared in your life. showing you a glimpse of happiness again. nothing compared to the relationship with benjamin, but yet enough to feel alive again.

brushing a thick strand carefully out of your face, you excused yourself from the man by your side and crossed the room toward the football player. you did not hate him, nor despise him for his decision. after all, benjamin wasn't made for long-distance relationships. seeing each other would have been almost impossible with the busy schedules of both. stuffed with games, events, meetings, and somewhere between time to sleep.

watching you intensely while walking through the crowds of people, associated with bayern munich, his eyes stayed glued to the movements of your body. along the way, the other guests disappeared and the loud conversations vanished into thin air. for merely a couple of seconds, it was just you and him. again.

"benjamin pavard," you cheered, stretching out the arms to offer him a warm hug and pulling him out o the trance-like state. a reminder that he wasn't alone with you anymore. "i did not expect to see you. you've always hated those events and the tight suits." shaking his head with a chuckle about how good you knew him, especially remembering the little details about him, he reached forward and pulled you tightly against his chest.

and if you moved on, with another man, who was waiting across the room for you, then why did benjamin's loamy scent smell like coming home again.

"will you believe me if i tell you that lucas and choupo dragged me to the venue, and then left me alone?" benjamin's question was genuine, because it was actually what happened, hours prior the start of the event. begging and long explanations about how he had to leave the house once in a while for other things in life than training sessions and games. impossible to decline them.

but the warmth of your embrace made him feel like he belonged in your arms. it immediately found a way into his veins, igniting a small spark of hope. the one, he had carried with him since the breakup. but when you slowly let go, taking a step back to increase the personal bubble, it felt like the day you left.

"i believe that. they are really convincing." you giggled, remembering how lucas talked you into telling benjamin how you felt about him. hernandez noticed the small glances of jealousy when another girl caught the french player's attention, or the envy twinkling in the corners of your eyes, when women touched him. without lucas, the relationship would have never been a thing.

"my parents are still asking about you." benjamin confessed, changing the topic to the break up once again. somehow, when he wanted to talk about something else, his mind always reminded him about the day, you left.

a warm summer day. you just received the news about the great transfer and wanted to share them with benji. but instead of being happy for you, or with you, he questioned the entire relationship, based on one change. no matter how bright the sun shone outside, or the chirping of the birds, which turned into a comforting melody, inside of the apartment, tears rolled and screams were exchanged.

"you haven't told them about.." you trailed off, not daring to say the word us after it has been destroyed. pointing a slender finger between your body and his towering figure, was all you could do to reference to the loss of words.

shaking his head, the quiet chuckle and following smile surprised you. but it wasn't happiness. sarcasm tugged on the corners of his mouth, the disbelief about the past decision. "no, i couldn't disappoint them after already breaking two hearts."

"oh benji.." you muttered, feeling the tears on your waterline. meeting him again after being together for almost two years, and sharing such an intimate bond, made it difficult to act like it did not bother you. the way he fought with the tears himself, attempting to hide the sadness and regret.

benjamin's heart broke for a second time, slowly and painfully as he realised once again, what he lost the night. instead of accepting the distance and trying to figure out how to handle it, he decided against your love, and being with you.

and he regretted nothing more than that one night.

#football blurb #football drabble #football imagine #bayern munich #bayern münchen #fc bayern munich #german football #football fans #bayern munchen #fc bayern #benjamin pavard blurb #benjamin pavard imagine #benjamin pavard #benjamin pavard drabble #football lovers #french footballers #french national team #requested #writing requests #requests open #benjamin pavard x reader #football #bundesliga #bayern munich imagine #fc bayern münchen imagine #fc bayern münchen

[urfavemcustan]

Recap

Summary: while talking about his recent lawsuit, Eduardo notices an uninterested bystander and is immediately intrigued

Warnings: oral sex (fem receiving), premature ejaculation

a/n: if you couldn’t tell, I rewatched the social network

After the settlement of the lawsuit, Eduardo found himself to be fairly content. At first he enjoyed retelling the tale of him standing up to his old friend.

Soon, talking about the case eventually became draining. For such a long time he just wanted it to be over and once it was it seems to take up a bigger fraction of his life. He felt he was constantly filling people in on the details the media messed up or simply left out.

Tonight wasn’t much different than that. Eduardo decided to go to a bar, the most upscale and expensive one he could find- mostly in hopes of everyone ignoring him. His hopes fell through of course and he was stuck in his usual position, explaining the play by play of the lawsuit to a big group of people.

As he told the story he could barely recall what prompted him to start talking, it seemed to be simply mechanical at this point. While he took a pause he scanned the bar, mostly everyone within earshot was paying attention to him. Everyone except for you. He caught a glimpse of you seated at the bar swirling your drink with a blank, almost disappointed expression.

“Hold on,” Wardo raised a hand to the crowd and sauntered over to you.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” He softly spoke, hovering over you as you sat.

“Completely,” you sighed, glad he had some self awareness.

“Seriously? This has been in the news for weeks and you're bored by a first hand account?”

“Exactly,” you looked up from your drink to face him, “I’ve been spoon feed information about you and this damn case for weeks and I’m sick of it.”

“My name is on the masthead of Facebook now,” he said proudly in an attempt to cause you to rethink your stance.

“So?”

“I’ve been recognized as a co founder,” he narrowed his eyes, knowing that this was sure to get a reaction from you.

“Okay?”

For some reason this not only annoyed him, it excited him, and secretly, it turned him on. He’s been receiving the highest volume of attention from women he’s ever had for the past few weeks and none of it has meant anything to him. Everyone, both men and women have been kissing up to him since his name’s been plastered everywhere. He can’t remember the last time someone’s had the nerve to challenge him.

“Can I talk to you somewhere private? Please?” 

“Why?” You enjoyed how your indifference to his status got him so riled. 

“Because I’ve never met anyone like you and I’m intrigued.” He sputtered.

“Alright, let’s talk.”

He led you to a dark closet filled with coats. He didn’t hesitate to close the door behind you and lean over you with a hand next to your head against the wall.

“Why don’t you care?” His wide eyes felt as if he were staring directly into your soul, searching for answer.”

“Have you considered the fact that others people have lives outside of Facebook?”

“I have and they don’t,” he chuckled, “it’s all people want to talk to me about.”

“And all you seem to talk about,” you retort, “it’s sad.”

He knew the conversation you were having would soon lose your interest, so he had to just throw himself out there.

“No,” he leaned in, nearly brushing lips with his own, “I’m actually quite interesting and I just thought of something else to keep you entertained.”

You aren’t stupid, you knew what he was hinting at. Under normal circumstances you would’ve told him to get lost, but his unwilling confidence couldn’t help but be slightly appealing. Also, it helped that he was hot and you were horny.

“Yeah? Why don’t you show me,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

He couldn’t keep up with this game any longer. Almost instantly he crashed his lips against yours, groaning once you let him into your mouth.

His kiss was deep and passionate, you couldn’t help but tangle you hand through his hair. He started placing sloppy kisses down your neck and his hands traveled to caress any skin available to him.

Suddenly, he fumbled as he got on his knees, he grabbed the sides of your thighs and looked up at you with the most blown out eyes you’ve ever seen.

He hiked your dress up and placed his face right on your clothed heat, “please let me eat you baby,” he mumbled into you, sending vibrations through your entire body.

All you could muster was an, “ok.”

Wardo pulled your panties down all the way and had you step out of them so he could hike your leg over his shoulder. Then, he didn’t waste anything time. His mouth was immediately all over your pussy. He alternated from sucking your clit to fucking your with his mouth to sobbing up whatever he could. This man was starved.

You got so caught up in the feeling that you unintentionally started to grind your core against his face. He matched your movements as he buried himself deeper somehow.

He could tell by the way you tightened your hip on his hair that you were close.

“Cum, cum for me please,” he mumbled against your clit as he started to fuck you with his fingers.

The merciless movement of his fingers were finally too much for you. You moaned incoherently as your pleasure was the only thing running though your mind. He worked you through your orgasm, lapping up every drop of you. 

“Come here,” you beckon him to stand up.

He obeyed, standing to meet your lips with his once again. You fumbled with his pants zipper in the dark.

Finally, you had his length in your hands. You lewdly spit into you palm and started pumping him.

Wardo couldn’t help but thinking about how long it’s been and how good you felt even though this was just your hand, he started thinking about how good the rest of you would feel.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

It was so simple, you said one word. But the way you said has his mind short-wire and then, “shit shit shit!”

He came right into your hand. You didn’t stop immediately, using it as lubricant while you continued causing him to convulse further. Once you saw you got everything out of him, you stopped.

“that’s never happened before,” he sputters, fumbling as he shoves a piece of paper in your hand.

“What’s this?”

“My business card,” he panted.

“Of course it is,” you scoffed.

“Call me sometime so I can redeem myself.”

“I’ll add you on Facebook.”

#the social network #eduardo saverin #Eduardo saverin x reader #andrew garfield #eduardo saverin smut #Wardo saverin #the social network fanfic

[theageofsims]

The Age of Sims 2.7 - Part 17- “A Way to Dull the Pain”

WARNING: Possible Trigger Warning

He didn't know how it started. Those few moments in the last three years that sometimes bubbled to the surface, would cause him to wonder about the decisions he had made and why... why then and not before.

He wasn't stupid. Raised in a great neighborhood in Brindleton Bay... some of the best public schools with even a mention or two of maybe attending a private one once upon a time when he was sold on impressing his mother because she was of course the most important woman in his life.

Until she became too weak to praise him after row after row with his abusive father, but that's where his Ant Kathy would step in -- praising him as she helped him decorate the refrigerator with his greatest school achievements.

Life hadn't been perfect, but there were perks many kids around him would die to have. Along with being well off, he was well spoken, and he grew to be good looking which gave him as many opportunities as his own father had -- and boy did he have...

Peter wasn't stupid. He knew his father had several relationships with women outside of his mother. And while he wasn't sure how to connect the dots or make sense of what he caught glimpses of throughout his childhood, he remembered loud and clear how he would hear his Uncle William shout about it with his Ant Kathy -- insisting his mother leave his father before his lifestyle interfered with his upbringing...

But that never happened.

His mother never found the strength to leave his abusive father and so the family stayed together... where Peter would grow to learn just what he witnessed his father do and say, to plenty of women... especially his own mother.

But Peter never could be as cruel as his own father... instead, it made him feel terrible inside -- sad, depressed, and uncomfortable. All the things he honestly thought wouldn't get the best of him... until suddenly, they did.

At one point he would have done anything for Bella. It did not matter that she was still married to a man who could be just as terrible as his own father -- or so he imagined from the way Bella had feared divorcing him. It was a decision that he didn't need much thinking about because he loved her from the moment he saw her... and when they welcomed Noah into the world, there was nothing Peter felt he couldn't face.

But things changed. Pressures started to arise and the few friends he made in San Myshuno had introduced him to things that brought him way up so he wouldn't feel way down... and so the story started to unfold.

And somewhere written in the story, Peter started to tell himself that the errors in his ways were justified because of what he had gone through in his past, but tragically -- that he deserved every bit of what he was allowing himself to get caught up in.

Even when that something was on the very verge of taking so much of his life away...

#ts4 #sims 4 #the age of sims #sims 4 story

[fanficshiddles]

Out Of The Darkness, Chapter 1

Summary: Grace had been captive of Kilgrave for seven years. She’s finally out, thanks to Jessica Jones. Who sends her to stay with The Avengers at their base, so they can protect her from Kilgrave. Loki takes a liking to her instantly, finding some common ground. He goes out of his way to make her feel safe and like life is worth living again. But can they keep Kilgrave away?

WARNINGS FOR FIC: mind control, violence, PTSD, anxiety, talk of rape and kidnapping.

-

Loki was heading out on a mission with Thor and Bruce, as they were heading down the corridor Natasha and Wanda were heading towards them, with a new face. A young woman, but she was wearing a large hoodie with the hood up.

Though when they passed by, she looked up and Loki caught a glimpse of her face. Her eyes were full of terror, of so much pain and sadness.

‘Who’s that?’ Loki asked Thor and Bruce as the women kept walking.

‘Not sure. But I know Jessica Jones was here earlier with someone.’ Bruce shrugged.

‘Let’s focus on the mission, we can find out when we return.’ Thor said.

‘Mmm.’ Loki hummed and nodded.

But he struggled to focus on the mission entirely, though luckily it was relatively easy. He kept thinking about that woman he’d seen. What had she been through? Who was she? Where did she come from?

When they got back home to base, Natasha had called for a team meeting straight away. Loki lurked in the back, as he usually did. Normally just rolling his eyes during the team meetings. But this one, this one was different.

‘Some of you might have noticed we have a new guest.’ Natasha started. ‘Her name is Grace, and she’s here for protection.’

‘Protection from what?’ Loki asked.

Natasha looked at him and narrowed her eyes. ‘Let me finish and I’ll tell you.’

Loki folded his arms over his chest and tried to keep his mouth shut and not retaliate.

‘She’s here for protection, from a dangerous man. Called Kilgrave. He has mind control powers, whatever he says, people do. If he tells someone to put a bullet in their skull, they do it. No hesitation. If he tells someone to dig a hole with their bare hands through concrete, they try and do it until their hands are bleeding raw. If he tells someone to shut up, they shut up and don’t say a word. They physically can’t. It’s terrifying what this man can do and has done.’

‘You’re joking, right?’ Tony said in disbelief. ‘No way some average guy can have powers like that.’

‘I’ve seen the proof.’ Natasha snapped at him. ‘I believe Jones, she wouldn’t have a reason to lie to us. She’s been under his control before, too. But she got lucky. She wants us to keep Grace here, until she has taken Kilgrave down… Grace has been through hell and back, multiple times. I’m not going to tell you what he’s made her do, it’s not my place to tell.’

Stark ran a hand down his face. ‘So, we are keeping some girl here because apparently, she’s been under control by a guy that has made her do, what, exactly?’

‘As I said, that’s not my story to tell.’

‘You’ve taken her in here and we have no idea what she’s capable of, or done, that could be questionable?’ Tony continued to argue.

Natasha was about to answer back but Loki butted in again. ‘Haven’t we all done questionable things in the past, Stark?’ He hissed at him.

‘Yeah, you especially.’ Tony grumbled.

‘I have and we all know that. But we all know that each and every one of us, has a past. I believe her, I saw it in her eyes.’ Loki continued.

‘Saw what?’ Steve asked him.

‘The pain and horrors of not being in control of your own mind.’ Loki sighed.

The team looked around one another. They’d all experienced having their mind played with, but none of them had ever done anything quite as bad as Loki… And now, Grace.

‘I doubt she will make an appearance for a while, she doesn’t trust, for obvious reasons. She’s been stuck with Kilgrave only pretty much, for a long time.’

‘How long was she with him for?’ Thor asked.

‘Seven years.’

Loki’s eyes widened. ‘What? She looks young, she must have just been a kid when he took her?’

‘She’s twenty-six. She was still a kid when he took her, more or less.’ Natasha nodded.

‘Jesus. At that age, she’s missed out on so much.’ Bruce said.

‘Exactly. So we need to try and make her feel welcome here, and while we need to protect her we need to try and help her get her life back.’

Everyone looked between each other, nodding in agreement. Even Tony reluctantly agreed.

‘He will be looking for her.’ Steve said.

Natasha nodded. ‘I’d say so. Jessica said that he would be pissed at finding her gone, especially after such a long time. But she is going to try and get his spotlight back onto her, to get it off Grace. But we need to be prepared in-case he does come this way.’

‘That asshole won’t get anywhere near her again.’ Clint said firmly.

That was something everyone agreed on.

-

Grace had been pacing back and fore for the past hour, it was the day after she’d arrived at the Avengers base. Part of her was scared to leave her room, but another part of her was even more scared at remaining in there on her own.

It left her alone with her thoughts, thoughts she didn’t want to have. Memories she didn’t want to think about. She was worried about what she might do if she stayed on her own.

Natasha had said to her when she was ready to just take a look around, that she would introduce her to the team.

Even though she was shaking, a complete bag of nerves, she made her way out of her room and headed down the corridor. She didn’t really know where she was going, but she vaguely remembered Natasha telling her a rough direction of where to go. But her mind was so clouded she ended up going the wrong way.

But she came to a huge window that looked out to the back of the base. There was a massive walled garden, hedging inside that sectioned off different sections of it, including a decent size green house and poly tunnel. The whole place was overgrown and obviously hadn’t been looked after in a few years.

It was completely different to the front of the place, where the lawn was immaculate and the drive all neat.

‘It’s a disaster zone out there, isn’t it?’ Came a smooth voice from behind Grace, making her jump.

She spun around, eyes wide like saucers. She had to crane her neck to look up at who was speaking to her, he was really tall. She realised quickly it must be Loki, one of the Gods. She knew of Thor from the myths, but he had blonde hair whereas this one had black hair. So she deduced it was his brother.

‘Apologies, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.’ Loki said quickly. ‘I’m Loki.’ He held his hand out towards her.

Grace eyed up his hand suspiciously, but didn’t take it. ‘I… I’m Grace.’ She whispered.

Loki retracted his hand and nodded. ‘Nice to meet you, Grace.’ He stepped towards the window next to her, but didn’t get too close to her, respecting her space. ‘Stark fired the gardeners that tended to all that a few years ago, he never got round to hiring more. A shame really, we used to get some nice fresh vegetables from there.’

Grace was wary, though she wasn’t sure why. She knew that she was safe surrounded by superheroes. Jessica told her about all their powers, what they could do. Wanda had mind manipulating powers, so did Loki. But not in the same way as Kilgrave.

But it was going to take her time to trust again. If she could even trust herself. She felt so, weird and empty.

‘I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you out and about so soon.’ Loki said after a moments silence between them.

‘I don’t know if I’m more scared being on my own or with strangers.’ She admitted.

Loki nodded. ‘It will take time, if you weren’t in control for so many years, it will be strange at first. But you’ll get there.’

Grace turned towards him, getting a moment of bravery to look up at him directly. ‘How do you know?’ She asked, her voice shaky.

Loki gave her a soft smile. ‘Because I’ve been there… well, similar. And if I can pull through it and get out of the darkness, so can you. You’re a strong one, I can tell.’

She actually felt like crying from how kind he seemed to be.

‘I… I’m not so sure about that.’

‘You’ll be doubting everything. Was what you did your own doing, or was it really from someone else? Your own inner demons are the hardest fight, but keep holding on. Take it one step at a time, you will get there. You will beat this guy.’

Grace looked back out the window, she really didn’t know what to say. How did this God have so much confidence in her when she didn’t have any in herself, and he didn’t even know her. She wasn’t sure whether she should be suspicious of him or not. But then, that’s what Kilgrave would want her to think of other men. To think that no one else out there would be nice and help her.

He really had isolated her from everyone.

‘Do you want to come and meet the bumbling idiots that people call The Avengers?’ Loki offered.

Grace nodded. ‘Yeah… ok.’

The Avengers were shocked when they saw Loki walk into the common room with Grace. Out of everyone, they didn’t expect Loki to actually be nice and polite towards her.

Natasha introduced her to them all. She awkwardly said hi to them.

‘Thank you… for letting me stay here.’ She said quietly.

‘It’s no problem. We will make sure you’re safe here.’ Clint smiled at her.

‘I’ll give you the code and access app to download onto your phone, so you can access the main doors whenever you need.’ Tony said, pulling out his phone.

‘Oh… I uhm… I don’t… I don’t have a phone.’ Grace said, rubbing the back of her head. ‘I don’t have much of anything, actually.’ She looked down. ‘He took my belongings off me… a long time ago.’

The team fell silent.

‘No need to worry. I’ll get you a laminate to keep on yourself.’ Tony said.

‘Thanks.’ Grace said.

‘Bruce is cooking up his famous fajitas for lunch. Join us!’ Thor beamed happily, then realised what he said. ‘I mean, only if you want to. You don’t have to…’

Loki rolled his eyes and face palmed.

‘You don’t need to watch what you say… I know… I know that you don’t mean it in the way he would… Though it will take some time for me to get used to, too.’ Grace gave Thor a small smile, knowing he didn’t mean any harm at all.

‘I uhm, I think I’ll just take something back to my room to eat, if that’s ok?’ She looked around everyone.

‘Of course it is. You don’t need to ask, you do what you want to do.’ Steve said.

Grace nodded. She waited there with the others for ten minutes while Bruce finished making fajitas, then he dished some up for her.

‘Thank you…’ Grace turned to leave the room, but she stopped. ‘Uhm… I can’t… I can’t remember which way to go.’ She said sheepishly.

‘I’ll walk you back.’ Loki offered before anyone else could, heading over towards her.

As they made their way down the corridor, Loki noticed her hands were shaking as she carried her plate. The more she tried to focus on her hands to stop, the worse they became.

‘What’s your favourite kind of food?’ Loki asked, looking ahead instead of at her, not wanting to make her feel more awkward.

‘I’m not too fussy.’ Grace shrugged. ‘I… I had to eat whatever was put on front of me, really… But pasta dishes are my favourite.’

Loki felt sad for her. He couldn’t imagine being told to eat whatever was put down on front of you, with no say in that matter, for seven years.

‘Thanks for taking me back to my room… Hopefully tomorrow I won’t get so lost.’ Grace said awkwardly when they reached her room.

‘My pleasure.’ Loki smiled and bowed his head slightly. ‘If you need anything at all, someone is usually around, so just call out.’

‘Thanks.’ Grace nodded and headed into her room, taking a big deep breath once she got in there.

-

‘You need to watch what you say.’ Clint said to Thor as they all sat down for dinner.

‘I didn’t mean’ Thor started but was cut off by Loki.

‘Tip toeing around our words will only make her feel more awkward. She wants to get back to normal, which includes people flippantly saying things that they don’t mean as an order, as it would if Kilgrave had said it.’

‘I hate to say it, but Loki’s right.’ Wanda said.

Loki smirked as the team all grumbled, reluctantly agreeing.

‘How are we going to be prepared if Kilgrave comes looking for her?’ Steve asked.

‘I’ll speak to Jessica again, see if she has eyes on him. We need to understand how his powers work, so we can contain him if necessary.’ Natasha said.

‘Or we just kill him before he gets a chance to open his mouth.’ Loki snarled.

‘I’m with Loki, it sounds like this man doesn’t deserve to live.’ Thor said with a mouthful of food.

‘That’s not for us to decide.’ Steve said. ‘We can’t become as bad as him, if he comes here, we trap and imprison him. Then we hand him over to Jones to do with as she sees fit.’

Everyone went quiet and just continued to eat. They clearly weren’t going to agree on a way of dealing with Kilgrave if he did come looking.

#Out Of The Darkness #Tom Hiddleston #Loki #fan fiction #Loki x OFC #fluff #protective Loki #sweet Loki

[theimpossiblescheme]

The entire village assumed that Ms. Grenaway was a witch, and this amused Tantomile to no end.  Her mistress was the most painfully mundane, non-magical human she had ever met in this current life, with almost childishly dull eyes bereft of any glimpses of far-off cosmos or primordial sea, a voice that trembled with the age of a single lifetime, thoughts you could only sense if she spoke them aloud, and hands that only warmed if she held them over the stove too long.  There was no hint of the spark, the little simmer of two charged souls recognizing each other, that she felt every time Mistoffelees or Hathor or little Jemima came to visit, and of course none of the resonance she felt with Coricopat.  In fact, what she could see of the old woman’s soul was the same limp, watery color as any other human.  This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in Tanto’s eyes.  It didn’t cancel out her excellent palate for chicken and seafood, her valiant attempts at conversation (humans didn’t have the tongue for it, bless them, but the effort was appreciated), and her lovely home with plenty of sunny patches and cozy dark crannies.  It simply was--she no more expected magic from any human than she expected wings from any cow.

However, according to most humans, there was something odd about an unmarried, rather reclusive woman living off the beaten path in an old house with a sprawling, “overgrown” garden (and multiple cats, no less!).  That, too, might have been a neutral statement, but different humans had different feelings on the matter.  Adults, Tanto noticed, tended to be a lot more tentative.  She heard quite a few whispers past the front gate about how “unnatural” it was, about how “a woman her age really ought to have settled down”... a ridiculous notion on its face.  She’d like to hear someone tell Hathor she ought to drop her current life and find a mate just for the sake of having one.  Many of the women commented how “sad” and “terribly lonely” Ms. Grenaway must be, as if she didn’t enjoy the company of her cats and her roommate, dear Mr. Lewis, perfectly well or find any contentment in her work.  Even the humans who came to buy her herbal remedies treated it like something unsavory.  It couldn’t be simpler in Tanto’s eyes–ginkgo for the heart, elderberry for the head and lungs, St. John’s Wort for sleep, turmeric for pain, and parsley for the blood and liver.  No different than what she would give any of the Junkyard cats who came looking for healing (the rosemary for grey hair was quite another matter, and she resolved to study those effects a little closer to settle her skepticism).  But so many humans held their newly-sold bottles and boxes like they were bombs about to go off.  For all their head-shaking and finger-waggling about “superstition” and “unscientific nonsense”, they were certainly willing to give a great deal of money away, only to treat a handful of herbs like something sinister.  Tanto couldn’t understand it and didn’t feel any great urge to waste her time trying.

The children, on the other paw… children had a very different reaction.  Tanto noticed that their whispers about Ms. Grenaway’s so-called “powers” came with a hint of excitement, the same kind she’d hear from the kittens telling each other stories on the rubbish piles.  One boy had insisted that she never married because she turned all her prospective husbands to toads for this or that offense, which gave Tanto a good chuckle at the mental image.  A pair of sisters assumed the house was haunted and assigned her far greater abilities as a medium than she had in reality.  And one imaginative little chap wondered where she kept her familiar, which they imagined to be a little devil or dragon that rode around on her shoulder.  Sometimes they would flock together at the very end of the path or, if they were feeling bold, right up next to the front gate, hoping to catch a glimpse.  And sometimes, if she had some free time and felt a more whimsical mood overtake her, Ms. Grenaway would invite them in for tea.  She’d brew up enough chamomile and lavender and bake enough fruit cobbler to feed Jennyanydots’ entire class and sit the little ones down in the kitchen, answering questions and spinning yarns Gus would be proud of and letting them look at all her stock as they lay drying.  There were always a few who took a genuine interest in what all the herbs and flowers did, and Tanto would drape herself around her human’s neck like a scarf as she gave an explanation.  And those same few she could always rely on to give exemplary chin and ear scratches.  If only they knew, if only she could tell them where the true magic of the house came from…

At the very least, she mused, she would have no shortage of stories for Coricopat later.

#Told you I'd write more about Tanto and Cori's owners one day <3 #cats the musical #tantomile

[differentluminaryllama]

Books and a cup of tea (part 2): Briefly, A Delicious Life by Nell Stevens

Although there is a story to it - the ghost of a female teenager (Blanca) residing in a monestary for about three hundred years developes a crush on a woman (Aurore, who goes by the name of George (as in George Sand, the French writer (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Sand) staying there for the summer - this novel feels like a stream of conciousness most of the time. Blanca muses on her feelings for women and a woman‘s beauty, life and death.

Blanca's story, her life and afterlife, is the central narrative of this novel, interspersed by George's memories, from before her arrival at the monastery. Blanca's abilities as a ghost offer an interesting plot device - she can slip into other people, gaining insight into their feelings, their past and their future, which in turn, offers the reader glimpses into other characters' heads without straying from the main plot.

The writing style is beautiful, adding a rich layer of atmosphere and immersion to the story. Even though sometimes, Stevens seems intent on listing metaphors as comparisons, without just choosing one, which feels a little bit odd, but isn't too jarring.

This book was unlike anything I‘ve ever read before. It was sad, yearning, hopeful at times, with the characters being unabashedly true to themselves. It was a wonderful study on (sapphic) love, the possibilities of life, an artist's creative drive and the wistfulness coming with the knowledge that life is finite.

#sapphic #lgbtq books #sapphic books #Nell Stevens #briefly a delicious life

[feralnumberfive]

Overall I think it was kinda rushed?? I mean obviously they’re on a time crunch but it would’ve been nice to learn a bit more about the sparrows and how the sparrow timeline worked out, also I kinda feel like Allison’s personality did a 180 degree turn way too fast? I get why she turned but… dunno it just feels so fast to me

Also I would’ve loved to learn how Christopher turned into a cube… his mom couldn’t have given birth to a freaking cube right??? And also there’s only 16 women who got preggo this time, wish that Reggie could’ve explained more about that

But also watching him get put into place by the sparrows is satisfying but sad at the same time xDD, what did he mean by “signing his life away” anyway?

Basically I feel like s3 packed too much in too few episodes, excuse me repeating but it just feels so rushed, to me obviously hehe

But we also got a little glimpse into what retired!five would look like so that adds some points imo xDD. ALSO, Klaus dying 56 times seems very Klaus to me, or maybe it’s because I read enough fanfics to prepare myself for that

AND THE ENDING OMFG, Netflix really knows how to end on cliffhangers don’t they?

Thanks if you actually read this whole thingy, was sat in front of my computer binging it for the past few hours so idk if this is readable lol

Yep, S3 felt rushed to me which is disappointing but at the same time the way they advertised it *cough cough* or lack of *cough cough* with it being the most eventful season yet I kind of expected it. One of the biggest disappointments for me was that they killed Marcus off right away. Unfortunately that's just because he was the only logical Sparrow and S3 would have ended after the second episode if he lived 💀I honestly feel bad for Justin Cornwell too, his character only got to live for one episode....

Them completely ignoring Christopher's origin is honestly funny to me but it also feels half-assed that they didn't want to explain his origins?? They also probably didn't have time to anyways but I feel like that's a big question they dodged for S3. Yeah I wish there was more of an explanation as to why they amount of super babies born was different 🤔

I've honestly forgot most about Reginald this season and his actions but pretty much everything he said and did was a lie, that crazy bastard lol. In the end it's sad that S3 felt rushed. I also think my expectations for it were also too high because of all the awesome theories and speculations in the fandom. As odd as it was for Five to just relax immediately and retire, it was nice to see him in just old man mode and bonding with Klaus. I will say that Klaus was probably my favorite character for S3, his character arc rocked! I will say that the cliffhanger for S3 did surprise me and I can't wait to see what comes next, how are they (hopefully) going to get their powers back and reunite?

And thank you for the ask! I am incredibly sorry for being so late to reply 🙏

#this was a fun ask :] #tua ask #oneirataxia-girl