#and then being BLAMED for exposing them since they now couldn't go to a PARTY

[desolatehands]

Hi! I hate to have to make a post like this, but I am in some need of assistance. I'm a disabled individual living on VERY limited income and most of my income has been going towards moving expenses as I am leaving this current housing situation in two months. I have already spent most of my paycheck on mailing off valuables to my next location. The next step is to get my furbaby the things he needs to travel comfortably with me.

The goal is to have him with me in the cabin to help not only him, but myself too with my anxiety. It's difficult traveling alone as an autistic individual, so my cat is my best bet in keeping cool without turning to opiates as a one day prescription.

Here is the amazon list, if anyone feels like helping.

And here are a couple photos of Steven hard as a rock Stone. He's a very sweet and loving cat. But, I am in a very poor state financially.

My roommate is not the best and has 'forgotten' about the cash I have given her to purchase specific things for the cats in the house. Instead using that money to buy cigarettes.

While I don't feel comfortable talking about too many details, I can comfortably say I live with a hoarder, that I am blamed for things out of my control ( like the bills she should be paying w my rent ), so on and so forth.

I'm incredibly sorry to ask for this help, but my hands are kind of tied. It's been insanely difficult to get out of an abusive situation while being disabled.

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine. 

Warnings: angst angst angst 

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Part III

and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun. - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The First Attempt

Poison was probably the easiest and cleanest way to kill somebody. It involved very little effort on your part, just a slip of the hand to pour the poison into their drink when they weren't looking. It usually didn't involve blood or puke unless you got one of the nastier poisons, which you never did anyways. Some of the girls were more sadistic though and well, you couldn't blame them for it. 

But while it was the simplest method of killing someone, it was probably one of the harder ones to pull off. First, faeries had very good senses, especially when it came to smell. One sniff of their drink could expose the poison in it, unless you were able to get your hands on one of the odorless ones. Those were more expensive though and Lydia and Keir certainly weren't willing to fund you guys besides your nightly rate from your clients. 

However, when you had made a trip to the apothecary in the underbelly of Hewn City, you had begrudgingly forked over the money for one of those clear, odorless poisons. There was no way anything else would get past Azriel and his shadows. 

Your heart ached in your chest as you stared at the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in your pleasure room. Azriel had been kind to you. He had offered you some mercy by buying out your nights and not returning until that fateful meeting at the party. And while he clearly liked being more dominant while bedding you, his touch had been gentle, soft. No one had ever shown you such care and here you were, plotting out his murder. 

But you simply had to do this. Freedom was only one dead body away for you. One more hit and you could finally wash your hands of this place, disappear to another court—perhaps one that would allow you to bathe in the sunlight for the rest of your days, something the citizens of Hewn City had never really experienced.

Kill Azriel.

Kill the shadowsinger and you'll be free to go. 

Those had been Keir's exact words. 

You had killed before. There was a time when your finger was covered in black lines, a new one added every time you didn't have enough money to pay the house fee or enough for food and had to borrow from Lydia. One every time you failed to perform for a client, no matter what they asked of you. But now you were down to one last mark. 

One for the Shadowsinger. 

One for Azriel. 

You let out a sigh, sitting down at your vanity to brush your hair. Azriel was due to show up any moment now. Ever since that night at the party, he had been coming by at this time every single night. He would buy out all the nights Lydia would allow him to before showing up. 

He never even made it seem like he expected sex on any given night. Sometimes the two of you would just cuddle in bed, whispering stories to each other about your lives. Sometimes he would come all tense and frustrated with whatever the High Lord had demanded of him. On those nights you would offer to give him a massage and listen to him complain about how much he hated his work. It seemed like the two of you had that in common, at the very least. 

You hadn't made any attempts yet. You told yourself it was because you were planning out the best way to kill Azriel. Poison, knives, strangling. There were a multitude of ways to do it. But you knew deep down what the true reason was. You had grown fond of the Shadowsinger. You didn't want to kill him.

But your wants and needs had never really ever agreed with each other your whole life. 

So here you were. Waiting for Azriel to come so you could poison him and be done with this Gods awful place. You wanted out of the labyrinth and unfortunately, this was the only way. 

No matter how much you liked Azriel, he was the one standing in the way of your freedom. 

You saw his shadows before him. They seeped underneath the door to your room like smoke. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of them before pure dread washed over you. 

Kill Azriel. 

Kill him. 

A gentle knock on your door was heard before it was pushed open and the Shadowsinger stepped through the threshold, his beautiful face illuminated by the candlelight. His hazel eyes searched the room until they landed on you and you watched as they lit up ever so slightly—the most emotion he would allow himself to show.

You set your brush down and stood to face him. Azriel stalked forward and by his body language alone, you knew the sort of mood he was in. You braced yourself on the vanity behind you as he came to a halt in front of you, tilting your head up to stare at his lethal and devastatingly beautiful face. 

He didn’t speak as he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you with a frenzy that lit your body on fire. You returned the passion, stringing your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him. His presence washed over you like a tempestuous storm, all encompassing. You lost yourself in it—in him. 

You had never felt so taken by someone before. But being with Azriel was just so easy. He was a breath of fresh air in this otherwise suffocating labyrinth. 

He pulled away all too soon.

You opened your eyes, heart pounding in your chest. “What was that for?”

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. 

You smiled up at him. “You saw me last night, silly.”

“And yet still I miss you the moment I leave.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck and your hands slid into his dark hair. He exhaled a breath that kissed the sensitive skin of your throat. 

You didn’t want to say it out loud, but you felt the same way. Every second apart from Azriel felt like a lifetime. You gently raked your nails over his scalp and you felt his body loosen in your hold, finally relaxing. 

Your eyes fell on the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart. So unassuming. So ordinary. But it held your freedom. You swallowed harshly as Azriel pulled away from you

“Go sit,” you said to him, nudging him in the direction of the couch. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

You watched him take a seat as you moved over to the bar cart. You picked up a whiskey glass, not even realizing how much your hands were shaking until you did so. You quickly set it back down on the cart, taking a deep breath.

You could do this.

All you had to do was just pour him a drink. Just one drink. That’s all it would take. One drink and he’d be dead within the hour. He’d be dead and your bargain with Keir would be over. You would be free. 

“I need to make a trip back to Velaris before it gets too late.” Azriel’s voice caused you to jump, almost knocking over the whole cart. “I have to give my mission report to Rhys before the day is over.” 

“You mean you haven’t gone to see the High Lord before coming here?” 

“No,” Azriel answered. “I…I just wanted to see you first.”

Your heart snapped into a million pieces in your chest. You frowned, staring at the back of his head. You could hear the hesitation in his voice—could feel how much it had taken out of him to admit that. Azriel wasn’t very forthcoming, so to blatantly confess something like that…

Fuck, you couldn’t do this. Not like this. You couldn’t kill him like a Godsdamn coward. 

You grabbed the decanter and dropped it on the floor, watching it smash into a million pieces just like your heart had. The whiskey splattered on the ground, soaking into the carpet. Azriel whipped around at the noise, eyebrows high. 

You turned red and stuttered out, “Oops. I-It slipped right out of my hand.” 

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. You had been minutes away from killing him. Tears lined your eyes as you knelt down to start picking up the glass shards. Azriel was at your side in a second, grasping your elbow and pulling you up off the ground. 

“Don’t touch it. You’ll cut yourself,” he murmured. “Let me take care of it.” 

His care, his concern, it only made you feel so much worse. You sucked in a breath of air, trying to blink away the tears.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, grasping your face with his scarred hands. He lightly stroked your cheeks with his thumb. “What’s wrong?” 

You stared up at him, into his devastating hazel eyes. “Why are you so kind to me?” Your voice cracked, your throat hoarse as you held back your cries. “I have done nothing to earn your care.” 

“Earn my care? Angel, you don’t have to do anything to earn my care. I care for you because…because,” Azriel paused for a moment, almost like he was debating something. “Because you allow me an escape from my duties—from my incredibly lonely life. When I’m with you, I don’t think about anything else. There is nothing you need to do for me. Just allowing me to see you—to be with you—that is enough.” 

“Azriel, I….” You wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to tell him about your bargain with Keir—about the steward’s demand that you kill him. But the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. “I just wanted to help you relax and I’ve already messed it up. I’m sorry. Let me go down to the cellar to get another bottle—”

“I don’t need alcohol to relax. I just need you, angel.” 

You were speechless. So utterly speechless. Any words you might’ve said got caught in your throat. All you could do was stare up at him—up at this beautiful male who had shown you he was nothing like the reputation that followed him around. He was gentle, kind, and so much better than anyone you’d ever met in this wretched city. He deserved so much more than this, so much more than you. 

“Okay?” Azriel said, knocking you out of your thoughts. 

You nodded your head, swallowing down your cries. 

“Okay,” you murmured back. 

Tonight you’d give him what he wanted. It was the least you could do. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Azriel flew back to Velaris feeling lighter than he had in decades. It was probably irresponsible that he had gone to see his mate before giving his High Lord his mission report, but he had needed to see her. To feel her in his arms after the day he had in the Illyrian mountains. 

Tonight had been a blessing. She always took care of him like she knew exactly what he needed. And tonight he had just needed to hold her. She had talked him into a massage, her hands magic against his skin and muscles and then they had just laid together, talking about everything and nothing. 

He felt more rested than he would have if he had tried to go to sleep. He felt refreshed, buoyant—like he could take on anything that was thrown his way as long as he had his angel to return to. 

It was nearing six in the morning now and he knew Rhys would be awake, usually tending to Nyx while Feyre got some desperately needed rest. He landed with a small thud in front of the River House and quietly made his way inside. He paused as his shadows whispered to him that Rhys was waiting in his office—no babe in sight. 

When he opened the door to the office, Rhys was indeed waiting for him—arms crossed and his brows furrowed. Azriel quietly closed the door behind him, pulling out his report from the shadow realm and setting it on the desk in front of his High Lord. Rhys glanced down at it for a second before looking back at him. 

“Azriel,” Rhys said, “Where have you been all night? I’ve been trying to reach you but your mental shields were up.”

Azriel cleared his throat before answering. “I had a matter to attend to before I came here.” 

He kept his voice devoid of any emotion. He didn’t want anyone to find out about her yet—his angel. She was his for now. His secret, his love, his mate. 

Rhys raised an eyebrow at him, nostrils flaring. “Is this matter the reason why you smell of cheap perfume and aphrodisiacs?” 

Azriel shrugged, nonchalantly. “This matter is none of your business.” 

“Am I wrong to assume that your scent means that you’ve taken my advice?” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched but he refrained from speaking in anger. “Everything you need to know about the mission is in that report,” he said, nodding towards the file on Rhys’s desk. “If that is all, I will take my leave.” 

Rhys frowned. “No, that is not all. Please, sit, Azriel. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” 

Azriel begrudgingly sat in the armchair in front of Rhys’s desk. All he wanted to do was go back to his apartment and get ready to see his angel again in a few hours. He’d once again bought out all her time slots, leaving her with no clients other than himself. Meanwhile, he tried every night to convince her to leave with him, to return with him to Velaris. But something was holding her back…or perhaps she didn’t feel for him the way he did for her. 

That was a depressing thought that he frequently lingered on. 

“What is it?” Azriel asked, wanting to get this conversation over with. 

Rhys rubbed his jaw, his striking violet eyes assessing Azriel. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for the way I spoke to you on Solstice Night. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t angry when I saw you and Elain together, so ready to make your…affections known in plain sight—especially when she has yet to reject the bond with Lucien. But I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.” 

Azriel tensed in his chair at the memory of that night—at the cruel words Rhys had thrown his way. But unlike before, no hurt came from the memory. No hurt, no longing, no despair. Nothing. Instead, where that hole had been in his chest before was now filled with thoughts and longing for his angel…his sweet mate. 

“It’s fine,” Azriel replied, stiffly. “You did the right thing. It would have been a political nightmare had Lucien seen us.” 

Rhys nodded. “It would’ve. Especially with how many ties he has to other courts—other courts we’re still trying to repair our reputation with. But I treated you like one of my subjects that night and not like a friend. It wasn’t just Lucien I was thinking of, but you too, Azriel. I don’t want to see you hurt if you give your all to Elain and she decides to pursue the bond further down in the line.” 

“It wasn’t your choice to make. It was mine,” Azriel can’t help but say. To his surprise, Rhys nodded his agreement.

“You're right. It is not my choice nor is it my life to live,” Rhys said. “Which is why I’ve decided to rescind my orders for you to stay away from her. I just ask that if you two do pursue something together, please use discretion—especially when Lucien is around. At least until she fully rejects the bond or tells him of her own affairs. Is that reasonable enough?” 

Azriel stood from his seat. “I appreciate the apology, Rhys. But everything else is not needed. I have no plans to pursue Elain or court her. Is that all?” 

Rhys stood as well, his jaw flexing. “So I was right, then? You were willing to throw away our relations with other courts for a female you have no interest in months later? Azriel, I can’t even speak to how irresponsible that would’ve been.” 

“Well, nothing happened. You intervened at the right moment,” Azriel said, coldly. 

Rhys studied him again. “No, that isn’t like you, Az. Something else has happened. Does this have anything to do with that female you had hanging off you in Hewn City? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with a prostitute of all people now.” 

Anger striked through Azriel like lightning. 

“Watch how you speak about her,” he snarled, hands flexing. 

Rhys gaped at him with a disbelieving look. “Godsdamnit, Azriel. Are you that desperate for love that you have truly fallen for someone you’re paying to be in your company?”

“If you are truly my brother,” Azriel growled. “If you truly have my best interest in mind, then you will drop this now. I don’t need your advice or your concern.” 

“Of course I have your best interests in mind! But, Azriel, this is lunacy. I don’t know what that female has told you, but she only cares for your money. If you had any sense, you’d put a stop to this—”

Azriel lunged forward, slamming his hands on Rhys’s desk, shadows spiraling around him. 

“I said,” he snapped, bearing his teeth, his voice as cold as ice. “Watch how you speak about her.” 

Rhys’s mouth dropped open in shock and before he could say anything else, Azriel disappeared in a flurry of shadows. He needed to leave, far too tempted to rearrange Rhys’s face with his fists. So he let his shadows take him somewhere else he knew he could let off steam—the training ring.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The Second Attempt 

Azriel was laying next to you, fast asleep. Even his shadows had rescinded to the dark corners of the room, content to leave their master in your hands. The hands that were currently holding a dagger, shaking as you straddled his sleeping body. 

Why was this so hard?

You had killed plenty of males like this before. 

But as you stared down at Azriel’s beautifully peaceful face, something ached terribly in your chest. He looked so much more boyish when he slept. His dark hair tousled, his large wings relaxed, the harsh lines of his face smoothed out. 

The room was dark except for the singular candle on your nightstand, half illuminating his handsome face. He was nude from the waist up, his swirling Illyrian tattoos on display—tattoos you often traced over as the two of you laid in bed together. 

It had taken a while for Azriel to actually fall asleep in your presence. The first few times he had spent the night, you had woken up to him holding you in his arms, staring at you as though you were his entire world—like nothing else mattered in that moment but you. It had caused your heart to flutter and ache. 

But now here he was, asleep. A sign that he trusted you now. Trusted that he could sleep and not have to be vigilant. And he looked so vulnerable like this. Gentle and soft. Nowhere was the usual foreboding and threatening aura that followed him around.

So vulnerable. 

So unassuming.

So clueless that you were currently straddling him with a dagger held above your head, ready to strike. 

You blinked as you felt watchful eyes on you, freezing. His shadows had meandered out of the dark recesses of the room, slowly crawling your way—like they were giving you the opportunity to stop this yourself before they intervened.

You let out a deep breath and lowered your arms. 

Poisoning him had been a coward’s move and so was killing him in his slumber. If his shadows had any sense, they’d strangle you right here and now. You fell off of him, laying back down at his side. The shadows rescinded, the threat gone in their eyes. 

But as long as your freedom was dependent on Azriel’s life, he would always be in danger around you. No matter how much you wished to not hurt him. No matter what you felt for him. 

Azriel had to die. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Azriel had never felt happiness like this before you. Not truly. He hadn’t even known it, hadn’t known that this was something he could feel. But here he was, his heart full and his mind at peace. There was only one thing that could make this better than it was.

He ghosted his scarred fingers over your bare back, lightly touching your soft skin. You were laying on your stomach next to him, nude except for the silk sheets pulled to your waist. 

His lips twitched as you let out a tiny noise of satisfaction at his touch, turning your head on your folded hands so you could stare up at him. 

He would never tire of staring at you—at your beautiful, serene face. Your alias made perfect sense. Serenity. That was what you made him feel. Though he felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of how many other males might’ve felt like this around you. 

The only solace he had now was making sure that you were his from now on. He didn’t care how much money he had to spend to keep you occupied with him. So long as it meant you’d be his angel and no one else’s. 

You smiled up at him and the sight was so breathtaking, he lost his train of thought. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked in that sweet voice that melted his ice cold heart. 

“You,” Azriel replied, honestly. 

You scrunched your nose at him, your smile growing. He trailed a finger down the slope of it, watching your eyes flutter at his soft touch. 

“That’s what you always say.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the truth.” 

“You're sweet,” you teased, making him chuckle.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as sweet, Angel.”

It was your turn to shrug a shoulder. “You’re sweet to me.” 

“You’re special,” he said, so genuinely that it made your heart skip a beat. 

“Am I?” 

“Yes,” he said, brushing your hair off your back and over your shoulder. “Of course you are.” 

You closed your eyes with a hum, content as he began to trace lines down your back again. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Your eyes flew open, brows furrowing. You gave him a small nod, curiously. 

“Do you…” he trailed off for a second, his voice lacking the sureness it had a moment ago. “Do you…feel this—this thing between us the way I do?”

“Azriel,” you warned, making his hand pause on your back. This was a topic you tried to stray away from with clients. You weren’t supposed to develop true feelings for any of them and you hadn’t. Not until…

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “I understand your line of work. But I…I can’t help what I feel, Angel. Tell me you feel it too.” 

You frowned, a nasty feeling coiling in your gut. It should be easy to say no. But that wouldn’t be the truth, would it? No, the truth was you did feel it—that fiery energy between the two of you. Azriel was different. He didn’t feel like a client. He called you by your real name, knew personal details about your life. All things you had shared for some unknown reason. 

All you knew was that you had wanted to share those things with him so you did. You wanted Azriel in a way you’d never wanted anyone else. You wanted to know him, craved his presence when he was gone, loved being with him like this. 

The line between the two of you was so blurred, you weren’t sure it had ever existed in the first place. 

You looked back up at him, your eyes conveying the things you couldn’t yet say out loud. Because you couldn’t let yourself feel like this. 

But Azriel stared back at you, knowingly, like he could read everything you had spelled out in your mind. “You don’t have to say it, Angel. I just need to know.” 

You rolled onto your back, letting out a sigh. “Azriel, we can’t—”

“Why not?” He cut in. “Why not, Angel? If you…if you feel something for me then please, take me up on my offer. Let me take you to Velaris. You don’t even have to live with me. I can buy you your own apartment and anything you need. You’d never have to work again. I could take care of you, Angel, the way you deserve to be taken care of.” 

And what a life that would be. Free of this place, of this gods awful city. Free to live with Azriel. Free to do as you please. Free to bask under the sun, to see the stars in all their glory—no longer buried under this mountain. 

But it wasn’t possible. It was a dream and only a dream. So long as that mark was still on your finger, this was all you could offer him before he’d meet his demise. 

“Azriel, I can’t,” you murmured. “You know this.” 

“But why? Whatever reason or worry you have, tell me. I can’t stand leaving you here day and night. I can’t stand the thought of another having you.”

You rose from the bed, hiding your face from his sight so he didn’t see the tears lining your eyes. You quickly shrugged on a night gown, hugging yourself as you lingered by your dresser. 

You didn’t want to talk about this. You didn’t want to confront this head on. You couldn’t. Just like your other dreams, it would never come true for you. 

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had pushed too far but he couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry. I’ll drop it just please come back to bed.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. You should kick him out, send him home. You should tell him to never come back even if it meant you’d be stuck in this place forever without his death on your hands. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Come back.” 

The pure desperation in his voice had you folding. You laid back down next to him, let him take you in his strong arms once again. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The Third Attempt

It had taken at least twenty minutes for you to lug Azriel off the bed and into the chair that you dragged into the center of the room. The faebane laced sleep draught had done its part in this scheme. Azriel had been knocked out, his shadows nowhere to be seen. 

And now you were tying him to the chair with some strong rope, in knots you knew he wouldn't be able to undo. 

Another week had gone by with no attempts on his life due in part to your growing feelings for the shadowsinger. But a visit from Keir had you snapping out of whatever hold Azriel had on you. You needed to do this. You needed to kill him and put an end to this. It wasn't fair, it was never going to be fair but it had to happen.

Out of all the males you had killed, you knew this was the only one that would linger with you for the rest of your life. But it was a necessary sacrifice if it meant you could not only leave this awful city but this Labyrinth too. 

You decided you weren't going to be a coward about this. Azriel deserved to be looked in the eyes as you killed him, otherwise the shame might just eat you alive. It would be so much easier to just try and poison him again but you knew this was the only way it would get done. Maybe you could explain it to him, maybe he would understand. 

Hell, part of you was hoping he'd fight his way from the binds and end your life himself. Would that be a better outcome to this mess? 

You were still debating that.

For now you leaned against the wall, fiddling with your dagger as you waited for him to wake up. You had spent all last night making sure he was happy—content. You had given him everything. Your body, your heart, your mind. It would be your last gift to him. 

But your freedom was hanging in the air between the two of you and that far outweighed anything else. You had been lost in this labyrinth for far too long. It was time for you to finally find your way out. Unfortunately, your way out was through th—killing the one male who had made you feel things you'd never thought you would.

"A-Angel?"

Azriel's hoarse voice made you stand up straight, your gaze falling on him tied to the chair. He blinked a few times, still a bit drowsy from the draught. You watched as he slowly realized his predicament, that he was tied up and without his shadows. He yanked at the binds that had his arms held behind his back, strung up to the chair. 

"Angel," he repeated, finally catching sight of you, "What...what is this? Why...why am I tied up?" 

You stalked forward and he noticed the dagger you held in your hand. His eyes went wide with alarm and he stared up at you in disbelief. He tried to yank himself free again, making the wood of the chair groan. 

“What are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to do this,” you started with a sigh. 

Azriel stopped his struggling, raising an eyebrow at you. “Do what?”

“Kill you,” you said, bluntly. 

Azriel was silent for a moment before he burst into laughter. Your brows furrowed in confusion at his reaction. Normally this was when males started demanding you untie them or pleading for their lives depending on how much pride they had. 

“What’s so funny?” You snapped, taking a step closer to him. 

Azriel shook his head, his laughter fading. “You’re not going to kill me.” 

You frowned. “I am. I have to.” 

Azriel leaned back in the chair, his wings held out proudly. He had completely ceased his struggling, all the alarm gone from his eyes. “And pray tell, Angel, why do you have to kill me?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you answered quickly, trying to regain your composure. “Not to you anyways.” 

“Well, seeing as I am the one about to die,” Azriel remarked, so nonchalantly, “then I think it does matter.”

He smirked at you, furthering your confusion. Why was he acting so…so calm?! You narrowed your eyes at him, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Why are you smiling?” You huffed, fisting his hair and pulling his head back to expose his throat. You pressed the dagger against his pulse point. 

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control here,” he shrugged, that smile not leaving his face. 

“I am in control here,” you snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the one tied up!”

“Am I?” He drawled out before yanking at the binds again. “Ah, you’re right. I am.”

You stepped away from him with a sneer. “Why are you acting like this!”

“Like what, Angel?” He smirked at you again, flicking his hair out of his face. 

“Like I’m not about to kill you! Like you’re not about to die!” 

“I’m hoping we can talk this out,” Azriel shrugged. 

“There is nothing to talk about,” you growled, frustrated. You’d expected some yelling or shouts from him, maybe a few pleas thrown in but not whatever this was. 

“I beg to differ,” he replied, “seeing as I’m about to die, I’d like to know why.” 

“Because…you…I—fuck!” You turned away from him, holding the sides of your head in exasperation. You squeezed your eyes shut, Keir’s words replaying in your head on repeat. 

The smile dropped from Azriel’s face at the show of your distress. “Angel, come on. Just drop the dagger and talk to me. Whoever has put you up to this can be dealt with.” 

“You don’t understand,” you cried out. 

“Then make me understand,” Azriel pleaded. “Please.” 

“I have to kill you, Azriel,” you wept. “I have to or I’ll be stuck here forever.” 

“Stuck here? Stuck in The Labyrinth?”

“Yes!” You let out a tiny sob, still not facing him. “If I don’t….if I don’t kill you, I won’t be able to leave.” 

“Angel,” Azriel whispered, “Why would you be stuck here? If you need help leaving, I’ve already offered to get you out.” 

You whirled around to face him. “I can’t just leave, don’t you get it! I can’t just walk out of here like you. I’m trapped.”

“Trapped? Angel, please explain it to me. You’re not making any sense.”

“I was so, so stupid. So stupid, so naive,” you cried. 

“Just tell me what it is,” Azriel said, gently. “Let me help you!”

“You can’t,” you whispered, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. “You can’t help me. Not with this.” 

“Why?”

“Because I made a bargain with Keir,” you said, staring down at the dagger in your hand. “All the girls here have to do it. We get to work here, not get sold off and eventually we will be allowed to leave but…”

“Not without a price,” Azriel filled in the blanks. “So what do you owe Keir favors or something?”

You shook your head. “We’re given marks and targets. He tells us a name and we…we kill them for him.” 

“And let me guess, Keir gave you my name?”

“Yes, he did,” you sighed. “You’re supposed to be my last mark. After this…I’ll be free.”

Silence fell over the room. Silence until Azriel uttered one sentence. 

“So kill me.”

Your head shot up in surprise. “W-what?”

“Kill me,” he repeated, staring directly into your eyes. “If it means you’ll be free, if it means you can leave this place and have a life of your own…kill me.”

“Azriel,” you murmured. “I—”

Azriel yanked himself out of the binds, causing you to gasp. He gripped your arm and dragged you to him, angling the dagger right against his heart.

“Do it, Angel,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Kill me. I want you to be free. I want a better life for you. So kill me.” 

You stared at him, tears pouring down your face. Your hand was shaking as you held the dagger against his skin. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Azriel was giving you his permission, telling you to do it, to kill him. 

He kept a firm grip on your wrist, burying the dagger deeper so it pricked his skin. A small droplet of blood formed, sliding down his bare chest. “Do it, Angel, please.” 

“I-I…I can’t,” you sobbed. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself to push the dagger straight through to his heart, you couldn’t. “I can’t.” 

“Why?” Azriel asked. “Why can’t you?”

“I just…I can’t—”

“Why!” Azriel shouted, making you jump. Your hand was shaking so bad now, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “Why can’t you do it! Tell me why!”

“I don’t know,” you stuttered out through a sob. “I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do,” Azriel said, sternly. “You know why.”

You shook your head, sobbing. He pressed the dagger deeper into his skin. “Why can’t you kill me, Angel? Come on, you know. You know why.” 

He was right. 

You knew why.

You’d known all along. Since the moment you had laid eyes on him that night he came to your room. Something deep inside of you had recognized it and subconsciously buried it. But you couldn’t deny it any longer. 

“Say it,” Azriel demanded. “You know why. Say it!”

You let out a sob.

“You’re….you’re my mate.”

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

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[anamericangirl]

What's telling to me about how sick people can be is that Trump was nearly killed, someone in the crowd WAS killed, multiple other shots went out, the whole thing was a terrifying event that everyone in the world should be able to agree was scary And yet I see the media on the left trying to spin this "Well this is to be expected, he's so radical and so fascist that of course someone tried to kill him" and "#YOUMISSED" is trending on Twitter Mask is fucking off and I'm done hitting Anon when I send asks to you, these people have truly shown they have no empathy, no sympathy, and are bloodthirsty. People get shot up in a school and their first thought is "This is why we need to ban guns" and "This is because of ultra-MAGA"

Some unhinged motherfucker actually attempts to kill the former president and kills someone in the crowd and the left turns it into a fucking hashtag and an opportunity to try to blame it on Trump even though he's the one that got shot at.

The left are fucking deranged, and I know better than most because I used to be ON the left. I shaved half my head, I had blue hair, I lived with liberal pedophiles (literally) in Ohio for 2 years who wore diapers around the house and bitched about Elon Musk and Trump every fucking day. I know these people are psychopaths and now they have finally just outright announced to the world how sick they are.

Even fucking Biden tried to call the hospital Trump was at to ask if he was okay, EVEN DARTH FUCKING BRANDON CARED ABOUT TRUMP and yet these Twitterlibs and liberal media fuckwads are just jumping on the opportunity to go "Aww man #YouMissed, you fired 5 shots how come you couldn't get him, you fucked up, omg"

For fuck sake hate the man all you want but SOMEONE TRIED TO KILL HIM AND AN INNOCENT PERSON'S BRAIN GOT REMOVED FROM THEIR HEAD, FOR FUCK SAKE HAVE AT LEAST A MODICUM OF SYMPATHY FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE YOU FUCKING SAVAGES.

If this doesn't turn people away from the democrat party then nothing will. Trump was not the only victim of this shooting. A couple of people were injured, an innocent person was killed and still the only thing we hear from leftists is annoyance that the shooter missed.

And while we are rightly angry at the spins the msm is putting on this assassination attempt, they have to put that spin on it or eat their words for the last 8 years. They've been characterizing Trump as a fascist tyrannical dictator since 2016. They've spun him to be Hitler 2.0 telling everyone he's a threat to democracy and leading people to believe he's a threat to their very lives. The "trans genocide" and "kids in cages" the "don't say gay" bill all that nonsense is always, always linked back to Trump and if they turn around now and condemn this attempt on his life what would that say about them? Either they will have to expose themselves as the liars and propagandists they are or they will have to be seen as being sympathetic towards literally Hitler. And narrative is more important to them than anything.

Which explains why they were trying to avoid reporting what happened like the plague. The headlines I saw in the aftermath, after we already knew Trump had actually been hit by the bullet were things like "Trump escorted offstage after gun shots were heard." "Loud popping noise heard at Trump rally." And other variations of that headline. And still leftists don't question why after Trump was shot every single mainstream media outlet had the same headline and they all avoided saying Trump had been shot or an assassination attempt had been made.

They can’t come out and say this was wrong because it will mean they will have to admit to something even worse: that they were wrong.

But of course the people currently in office can't come out and condone the shooting. That would look very bad. So yeah, it's good that Biden stood up there and said the right words and made an effort to contact Trump but how convenient that this happened a mere couple of weeks after the democratic party has abandoned and turned on Biden so his words and condemnation will be buried and ignored and mean nothing.

For the last 8 years, though, Joe Biden and every other democrat in office, paired with the media, have been villainizing Trump for his rhetoric. Everything bad thing that happened was directly the fault of Trump because of his "dangerous rhetoric." But the rhetoric they've employed against Trump and all conservatives since that time has been the worst fearmongering and slander I've ever seen so they are directly to blame for this shooting because of their rhetoric. No more "rules for thee but not for me." They have to live in the world they made.

Leftism, as I'm sure you've seen first hand what with your experience of being one and living in that environment, is no longer about what you support, it's just about who you hate. And every sane person still aligned with them is waking up. The mask has been slipping for years and most of us were able to see who they really were way before it fully fell off but there is no mask now. They're not even trying to hide it.

They have the ideas they pretend to support when told to, but all leftists are only united by one thing: hate.

Their heroes are criminals like Michael Brown, George Floyd and Trayvon Martin. And they hate police until they shoot and kill Ashli Babbitt who's only crime was being a Trump supporter at the capitol on January 6.

They still bemoan the killing of a pedophile, wife beater and injury of a career criminal who were shot because they tried to murder a child while villainizing the child they tried to kill because he successfully defended himself against their attack.

To this day they spin their violent riots as "mostly peaceful protests" while the January 6 protest was a "violent insurrection."

The rapes and murder on October 7 were a justified response to "occupation" but anything Israel does is "genocide."

During covid they freaked out about "public health" and wanted everyone vaxxed and masked to "save lives" but when Trump got covid they all immediately wanted it to kill him.

When a white boy shoots up a school it’s an example of how evil white people and right wing gun nuts are but when a trans person shot children at a Christian elementary school the main focus of leftists, all the way up to the White House, was the danger the trans community would allegedly be in from right wing retaliatory violence and how “hateful Christian rhetoric” was responsible for the shooting.

And none of this has anything to do with the values they claim to adhere to. All of their positions on every single issue come down to who it is they hate the most of the people involved. So their "values” change by the second.

So the violence, depravity and dangerous rhetoric is pretty much 100% on their side but watch them try and spin this assassination on Trump as Trump's own fault. And watch leftists just unquestioningly go with it or just try to distract people with more fear mongering about Project 2025 or something else stupid like that.

The only thing that bothers them about this shooting, other than the fact that the shooter "missed', is that this has pretty much guaranteed Trump is going to win the election. And of course they can't stand that after all they've done to try and make sure that doesn't happen.

[donutloverxo]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a thirsty thot about one of your favorite fictional babes. Go on and spread those shameless hoe vibes and your legs.

I am really into.... like unbuttoning a shirt. I know it sounds tame, but like slowly unbuttoning a really crisp shirt is just so🥴 also like unbuckling and unzipping something... NSFW!! 18+ONLY a little name calling maybe..

Damn, you almost moaned.

The midnight blue shirt, your favorite on Steve, you had picked it out for him for tonight's party. You told him you loved how it brought out the blue in his eyes.

Which... was true.

But more than that, you just liked how perfectly it fit it. Tight in all the right places. Accentuating his biceps so well... it literally made you want moan. It stretched so well over his broad chest, his wide shoulders. There were some women flirting with him at the party, and you couldn't really blame them. He just looked so good.

It was almost unbelievable how this perfect man was actually yours.

He looked up at you with a cheeky smile, that lit up his beautiful eyes, "You've been staring at me the whole night, puppy." As he set down his wrist watch on the dress.

"Who me?" you played dumb. Your cheeks heating up at being caught oggling and objectifying your man.

"Well, you're beautiful. I can't get enough of you. No matter how long I look at you, it never seems enough."

And sometimes it's a true dilemma.

Whether you find him so beautiful, since he obviously is objectively so, or if you're so blindly in love that even his flaws are perfect in your eyes. No matter what he does or how he looks, he'll always be beautiful to you. There is no scenario, no universe or reality where you would find him anything less than perfect.

Steve atmost pouted at your heartfelt confession. Taking two long strides to stand before you, his hands on your hips, he cooed at you. "You're the beautiful one, puppy."

"No," you huffed. Before playing with the button on his shirt. Pulling it undone.

Slowly... taking all the time in the world. Because Steve is a work of art, and it would be a disservice to not appreciate him to the fullest.

You had been so impatient in the beginning. Truly, a whore for him. And you still were... but now you also know how to take it slow, and how to physically show him your love and devotion because love never seems to be enough.

You could see the expanse of his smooth chest after pulling some of his buttons undone, spreading his shirt a little to expose more of him so that you could press feather light kisses all over him. You smiled as he kissed the top of your head.

[wack-ashimself]

Hey! Even more tales of living in low income housing...

Forewarning, this is the 2nd worst thing to ever happen here. Ok, maybe 3rd. I'll give a recap at the end of the list!

Was going to walk to the store. While getting dressed, without the noise of my tv, I hear screaming. Loud, endless, 'I will lose my voice' screaming. You can't fake these screams. Look out my window, and there's a lady flipping out. Just losing her shit, surrounding a car, with a group of people. I walk to the store, and come back to cops, fire department, and an ambulance. I see them quite regularly, but RARELY all 3. NOT a good sign.

Anyways, cuz gossip is all we have since we don't got money here, I knew just walking to the building I would get the gut of the story. I did...

They found the body of a guy (I believe from this building) that has been missing since thursday last week in the BACKSEAT of (I assume again) his own car. Laid down kinda.

Too many variables to think it was natural causes IMO.

SO let's recap! Top 5 worst things that I have been exposed to in low income housing (so far!).

5-The extreme racism, sexism, and then meeting a...12 year old gang member who sold drugs, and 100% had connections to people that would will kill you if crossed them.

4-(I was not here for this): Lady jumped out her window, with her oxygen tank, to kill herself...in front of someone's b-day party, from the 3-4th story.

3-The above story I just told. And I am sure it's not done yet.

2-Mr Hazmat. Basically, alcoholic slowly drank himself to death and upon finding his body, they had to call hazmat cuz there was shit covering EVERYTHING in EVERY ROOM. Basically cleaned and stripped the apartment BARE.

1-This is how bad my #1 is. I forgot it...until today when I heard that lady screaming...A guy a knew, 7 years younger than me. Nice guy. Smart. Emotionally crippled. Did lots of drugs. The last time he did a really hard one, knocked himself out while standing from them, and passed out SMASHING his skull on his table. His druggie friends panicked, ran, another guy in the building found him and then...

right where I am sitting now...

I believe I had my window open. First floor corner. I see/hear all practically. So...I got to hear his girlfriend being told he's dead, and her subsequent scream. That scream I will never forget. And when ANYONE screams that way, it's always the same undertone 'someone or something was taken from me unjustly early.' It....you can't unhear it. Once you hear it once, you'll know it every time. And that's why I forgot it...until today. I KNEW THE KID! He had my fucking real life name! ...and I forgot cuz his girlfriend's scream shook me to the core of...life. Love. Pain. Passing. I couldn't even begin to imagine the horrors of war...

SO YEAH! Great times....

(and it's not poor people's fault. When you're poor, have nothing to do, and world has fucked you bad, you lash out. Either at yourself, others, or society as a whole. I just don't understand why all poor people do not realize it's all rich people's fault, and just fucking eat the rich already. THE RICH ARE TO BLAME FOR EVERY MAJOR WORLD ISSUE.)

[boop-le-snoot]

Doll Parts | tony stark x reader

i love him so much it just turns to hate // he only loves those things because he loves to see them break // and someday you will ache like i ache // Hole - Doll Parts

all hurt comfort. angst. no happy ending. big sad. tony could have been like this, you know. he was like this to pepper at some point. i don't know why i am like this today. rated M for themes of (implied) addiction & cheating and non-explicit mentions of intimacy. word count: 3,3k

It wasn't as if she was blind or dumb. She saw the way he treated everyone around him; whenever a single person got too close he'd push them away, consciously or not. The man loved pushing everybody's buttons as if he was playing Galaga for a living; rapidly, mercilessly, with intent. Tony Stark was not a man to whom a person would give their heart willingly.

It was her own fault she went and gave hers away, to him, of all people. And sometimes, it did feel like he loved her, in his own way. Tony would shower her with gifts and affection, cling to her whenever he wasn't away on SI business, and God, the sex was out of this world. Sometimes, she felt as if she would suddenly burst into a blinding flash of light, scalding and deafening, that would sprout from the invisible wounds his fingers left on her skin. Like fine china, she cracked little by little under his steady, tender hands.

The first time he'd ended their short, by average standards, but long - by his, relationship, it didn't come as a surprise. She had never held illusions on ensnaring the world's most notorious playboy. Younger and less jaded, she amicably agreed to get her things that very same day, blocked his number and left for an overdue vacation in the tropics. Being able to browse the gossip sites speculating on their lack of public appearances whilst sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri was a much better alternative to spending her nights holed up in rainy Manhattan, having to answer numerous "I told you so" calls from friends and relatives.

Maybe, three daiquiris should've been enough. But she'd quit smoking because he said the smell bothered him and she- well, she could do anything she wanted now. Being alone and not dating a very public figure definitely had way more perks than she previously had taken for granted in her much less exposed life. That's how the heartache began to recede: it was hard to mope when fun was calling for you by your name.

Some of Tony's character traits had migrated onto her. Which wasn't bad per se, she had been told she could use to loosen up. Her friends rejoiced in the newfound adventurousness, never missing an opportunity to go out, throw a party, go on a clubbing spree. She was game and she was enjoying it. Dolled up and eyes sparkling, the newfound confidence radiated off her like a beacon, attracting just about every single like-minded person in a five mile radius.

Tony's champagne he had sent to their table meant nothing. Her friends laughed and giggled and asked her all about the juicy details about the billionaire; as much as she searched the rowdy crowd for a familiar pair of baby doe browns, they weren't anywhere within sight. So she went back to talking and smiled as bright as the strobe lights, throwing down a whiskey shot to water the burning ache in her chest.

She found him on the dancefloor. Seconds after she stepped her foot into the mass of grinding bodies Tony was there, an equally happy and intoxicated smile on his face and arms wide open, as if they hadn't parted ways at all. She wanted to be angry with him, she really did, she wanted to snide his frivolity and the possessive way that he had the audacity to treat her.

His eyes, they were her untold weakness. She hadn't seen him so happy in months. Just once, she agreed, she'd let it slide. And so they danced, bodies accustomed to each other in the way that seemed to be impossible for her to achieve with anyone since the day that she left Tony Stark.

A splitting headache and a cold, empty bed greeted her the next morning. Thankfully, her clothes were laying haphazardly on the floor of the bedroom - the bed that was not his own but, rather, as she assumed, one of the many guest rooms in his tower.

Not the one to usually harbour shame of her very human needs, she felt like a cheap whore when she got dressed and grabbed her purse, making a beeline for the door to the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, she was greeted with a woman in a professional suit - tall, strawberry blonde and as cold as the Arctic, beautiful in the Vogue-magazine, unattainable way.

"Good morning," The woman spoke in a pleasant tone.

She wanted to retch from the false cheerfulness. "Good morning, ma'am. I was just leaving," Refusing to bow to her own shame, she flashed an equally cheerful grin towards the blonde.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal assistant, my name is Pepper Potts," They briefly shook hands, neither of them wanting to touch the other longer than it was necessary. "There is a car waiting for you downstairs. Be sure to take the left exit."

Internally fuming, she smiled slightly wider, seeing no need to introduce herself or prolong the awkward interaction longer than necessary. "Thank you, Ms. Potts, that will not be necessary. I have arranged my own ride. Have a nice day, ma'am," With that, she pressed the button once again, entering the elevator with the expression of polite contentment glued to her face like a persistent piece of dog shit she couldn't shake off the bottom of her shoe.

Ms. Potts' façade slipped slightly - she must've been new - as the blonde ran a sharply observant look over the woman in the elevator, pulling out her phone as soon as the elevator door was halfway closed. That was quickly forgotten, her head growing clearer with each second it was pressed against the cold window of the cab she'd called on the way downstairs.

It was a mistake, a perfectly human accident that happened to the best of them. Only it left a bitter residue somewhere south of her ribcage, something acrid and viscous that even alcohol couldn't melt. The more she drank, the thicker that ball of rolled up frustration became, bleeding into her work, her relationships with her friends. It was tiresome to keep craving something so far out of her reach.

The exhaustion grew day by day, until her chest felt constricted for most part of the day and all the oxygen in the whole wide world wasn't enough. Her heartache was saved, strangely enough, by aliens - they rained down on New York city like frogs during the Plague in the book of Exodus; as if God himself was angry at the state of affairs of his favourite pet earthlings. For a time, she couldn't afford to worry about her broken heart and focused on the dilapidated city, landing her resources and skills whenever, whenever she could.

Late at night, exhausted and drained, she allowed herself to flick through the news, eagerly soaking up the new details that seemed to pop up every other day. Aliens were real, Thor was one, Captain America was alive and her ex-boyfriend was now a member of the merry band of misfit superheroes.

She had never taken his hero sidegig too seriously. Tony had some good in him, he wasn't the attention-demanding supervillain-waiting-to-happen, but neither he was hero material. The Tony she knew was akin to a hyperintelligent kid left without supervision. Consequences were a slight setback, not a surefire deterrent for this man.

Her building remained mostly intact - some cosmetic damages that were repaired quickly and did not concern her apartment at all - so she stayed in the same place, much to everyone's dismay. A good chunk of her friends had moved away from NYC as soon as they could - not that she blamed them - but the calls of her family, consisting of begging and nagging her to move states, were beginning to climb over the annoying line very quickly. More often than not, she ignored all calls that weren't from her friends or work.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Tony showed up on her balcony one night - but the shriek that left her was utterly involuntary. His armored suit was noisy and clunky, just like was expected from a huge chunk of metal. Tony's face was a ghost of the man she used to know: he was pale, the bags under his eyes were fit to carry groceries in and he'd lost more than a few pounds around his middle.

Not that she had a glow-up. Work hours were long, volunteer work was by far more exhausting and emotionally draining. With her support system scattered across the country and free hours few and in-between, she'd acquired a shrink. Nightmares went away and the sluggishness, too, thanks to a couple of convenient prescriptions. It seemed like the professionals were as clueless as any in dealing with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

"You weren't returning my calls," Tony stated in the way of hello. It was so like him, to be skipping the pleasantries and glossing over the details.

"I have your number blocked," She replied unkindly, raising an eyebrow as the suit retracted and the man, wearing worn jeans and an oil-stained tee, stepped into the twilight of her home without an invitation.

"I wanted to make sure you are alive and your home is being rebuilt in case it was demolished. Stark foundation is shouldering most of the expenses," He offered in the way of explanation, beelining for the nice whiskey she kept in a tumbler in the living room.

The snort escaped her lips before she could help it; brain chronically overtired but medicated; Adderall and weariness. He was never a good liar, only a good faker. "Why are you here, Tony?" All of it: the damages, the casualties, all of it was public record, accessible 24/7. All he had to do was open Google.

He turned around, scanning her head-to-toe, in that not-quite-convinced way. "Just wanted to see if you're okay," He tried for nonchalant but his eyes were haunted. The whiskey glass he was holding empty in seconds.

She walked up to him, staying at an arm's distance from the man, before doing a slow, sarcastic twirl. "I'm fine. Not a scratch. Was in Staten Island that day."

He nodded, not at all convinced. "Good," Before slamming the glass down with such force, she was afraid the countertop now sported a rounded indent. Fingers twitching, he pulled the woman into himself before she could utter a peep, smashing their lips together without any grace, paying no attention to the way she froze as still as a statue. "God, I missed you. Couldn't bear the thought of you dying..." He mumbled in between harshly biting the plump of her bottom lip and steering the kiss towards his wishes, hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head.

He tasted like whiskey and desperation.

She couldn't not give in. She'd felt the same way when she watched his red and gold armor fly into that wormhole, missile in tow. She'd felt the same despair clawing at her ribcage when his lifeless body flew back from it before being caught by the rabid green monstrosity.

It wasn't graceful and it wasn't pretty; feeling like a monster herself, she responded the same way he did. She shredded his clothes, she clawed his back, leaving wet crimson streaks in the wake of her nails and whispered the ugliest, nastiest truths she had denied herself for so long. He left with the promise to stay in contact and for once, he did.

Nothing was the same. Tony was far from the careless, extravagant billionaire he used to be. These days he was a cynical, analytical asshole that one-upped people even before he had a real need to do so. Both of them had changed, really. She was not the tender uptown girl either.

The nights with him were rare and long; the nights alone with her work were recurrent and longer. The tower stood out on the NYC skyline like a sore thumb, beckoning with the unattainable snipe hunt of having something stable with the world's #1 superhero, Tony Stark. Each time they met, she felt almost as dirty as the time she stood in the elevator under the scrutiny of Pepper Potts.

Even if he didn't outright hide her. She'd ran into Black Widow and Clint Barton once or twice, each of them casting a glance at her Special Visitor badge before muttering niceties and moving on with their day. It was only slightly better with the Captain: he got in the elevator two floors below Tony's penthouse at 8 AM in the morning, just as she was leaving for work - dressed in a sharp pantsuit that was not-quite on Pepper's level. The soldier must've assumed she was a high-rank employee or a friend, the tips of his cheeks blushing as he spoke a quiet: "Good morning, ma'am," In that semi-formal tone of his.

Seeing a grown man get so flustered was quite adorable. "Good morning, Captain Rogers, sir," She replied in a matching tone, humoring him.

The elevator stopped suddenly and a few employees got in, staring openly at the national icon, who had his eyebrows slanted in confusion. The woman shared his sentiment: it was Tony's private elevator. She guessed all the other ones were too full in the mornings so the tower's AI put the underused one to work.

Or, at least, that's what she tried to convince herself of anyway. It wouldn't be past Tony to get jealous over something as trivial as sharing an elevator car with Captain America.

The plateau of normalcy didn't last long. Just as she was opening her third bottle of wine for the night, laptop open on the kitchen counter and proudly displaying "Tony Stark and Pepper Potts - America's newest power couple?" article, she realised he was a coward, too. Slowly but surely, he had ghosted her, not even bothering with an explanation of his sudden unavailability, the several dates missed and even more postponed indefinitely.

They were never going to be a normal couple. She had made her peace with that, ugly and depressing - but it was real. She thought what they had was real. She finally had admitted to herself that she loved him, loved an impossible man, loved to the bottom of Hell and pitfire. The fireworks under her skin had never fully gone away, she realised as more and more ugly sobs broke from her chapped lips.

She blocked his number again and bought herself a new one, deleting the "Tony Stark" contact for good. There was more than enough work to do and the time to feel sorry for herself was sparse. And if she picked up a habit to make sure the time working was spent with proper efficiency, without soaking documents in saltwater that her eyes seemed to overproduce those days? It wasn't a big deal. She needed to get back on her feet somehow, without being dragged by a man who wasn't even present to actively be ruining her life anymore.

If anything, she thought she should feel grateful. The blinding light, the stars that exploded and shone inside her only for Tony, became something poisonous and vile. It wasn't the bitter taste of regret; rather, she felt a flash of ravenous, burning anger every time his name or his face popped up in a press article within her eyesight. Love and hate weren't that different when it came to the intensity: she basked in those newfound feelings, taking care to pick apart and neatly sort each of his perceived flaws on a cute little shelf in her overtaxed brain and fatigued heart.

It wasn't healthy. A convenient escape for the summer; a cabin far, far away from the busy New York city - she took up the offer and relocated there, being content with working remotely, drinking strawberry mimosas by the lakeside. Day by day, the clarity of her mind returned, lulled into a false sense of security by the tranquil trees slowly swaying in the breeze and wide ripples in the water.

Tony seemed to be enjoying bringing chaos into her life and making her miserable. The quinjet landed right on the neatly manicured lawn in front of the cabin, several obviously exhausted and wounded superheroes dismounting the vehicle, Tony looking sheepish but determined in the lead.

She wasn't completely unaware of the rest of the world and knew of the fiasco the Avengers recently had. Was it the half-dead, limping Widow or the baby blues of the Captain, she couldn't tell, but the woman ushered them into her house, gathering the tools needed for first aid with haste. Fate wasn't looking to give her a break.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen, alone, Tony was there, looking much like that time on the balcony, baby doe browns turned up to eleven and a groveling speech prepared on demand. He'd noticed her weight loss and the ashen tone of her skin, the prominent veins and the bags under her eyes. She was as obvious as a brick to the face with her vices.

She slapped him. He winced, but stayed quiet, preparing himself for the storm - and storm him she did, keeping quiet enough for most of the team to be able to tactfully ignore the scolding Tony was getting. "I despise, you, Stark. You're a coward. Do not dare to set foot in my house ever again."

Needless to say, the superheroes departed shortly after Natasha's injuries were stabilised and frowning, disappointed Thor and Steve (they'd asked her to address them by their first names) bashfully apologized for their sudden intrusion and any discomfort they might have caused. She smiled at Steve, wide and big; refusing to admit it was done just to spite Tony, she joked and blushed in response to the Captain.

Tony did not attempt to contact her again. For some time, she lived in fear - irrational one at that - he'd appear and wreck her life one more, final time, before admiring the destruction and leaving her a steaming pile of ashes on the floor. But seasons passed and all of it faded, like a vivid, terrible nightmare.

Piece by piece, her life was getting put back together. His name stopped invoking a swarm of feelings she needed to drown just to stay afloat; there were news regarding him, another violent altercation, and she simply flicked the TV back to adult swim. New friends and new hobbies were being made; the fine cracks made by his agile fingers were being filled with the gold of newer, better discoveries.

There was always something going on in the superhero world and finally one of the topics reached her line of work: mutant rights. She'd never stopped being a volunteer after that NYC invasion, making new connections in a domain previously unexplored, it paid off in spades regarding her career growth. The connections were vital to be able to climb the corporate ladder successfully.

Stark showed up at her door three days after half of his merry band of misfits were pronounced fugitives. This time, she expected it. She knew better than to expect him to assume responsibility by himself - a quick Google search and his relationship status was listed as once again single - the Virginia Potts she knew would not have let anything like that happen. Stark was on his own.

"They betrayed me," He'd said, from behind the door she had cracked open a few inches, to make him know he wasn't welcome in her home.

"I think you know now, how I felt then," She didn't falter, ignoring the way his still freshly-bruised face darkened. "As far as I am concerned, you deserve it. Goodbye, Tony." She shut the door without waiting for his response, hearing his footsteps slowly back away as she made herself another coffee.

Tony Stark taglist: @another-stark-sub @letsby @mostly-marvel-musings @rdjesus4ever @ladyeliot

Well um 💀 yeah. I'll go and attempt to scavenge some serotonin somewhere now. Thanks for reading! 💖✨

[ambrosiaaddiction]

Not Meant To Be

Word Count: 3,750

Summary: Anthony became the center of your attention, and it seemed as though his feelings were mutual for you. But in light of recent events, he’d only be able to comfort you in more ways than one. With the help of a loyal friend, you have no doubts that Simon will regret leaving you.

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x reader, Simon Basset x reader

Part 3/6

a/n: Sorry for the incredibly long wait! I knew that editing takes time, but I didn’t think that I would have writer’s block for, well, however long I’ve had it. So much has happened, and I lost motivation after motivation. Although, it’s not entirely fair for those of you who want to read Bridgerton fanfic. Without further delays, here’s part 3!!

                   ⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

One might think that when he stood outside my home with roses, Viscount Bridgerton had finally set himself on the route to having a family of his own. The Viscount was welcomed by Charles and invited inside, which caused Mama to almost fall over her feet. “Lord Bridgerton! Heavens! What a pleasant surprise this beautiful afternoon to see you!”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at mama's change of mood from just minutes earlier. Lady Bridgerton wrote to me her apologies, that were not even pertinent at all, and mama blamed me of humiliating the Bridgertons yesterday. Papa didn't make his typical remarks, but I knew what he had been pondering regarding my misdeeds.

Other than that, Lord Bridgerton told them his hellos, and when he saw me in the family room, his smiling face grew greater. “Miss Denbow, good afternoon. As it always is, you never cease to look so exquisite.” If I wasn't mistaken, I assumed he was intending to flirt with me, and undoubtedly fooled mama with whatever act he was putting on.

“Lord Bridgerton, how kind of you to give my daughter compliments after seeing what she did yesterday at the picnic. In this town, you and your family are truly the most genuine.” Mama was eager to speak in my place, and when she tried to bring up the incident for the second or third time, I swallowed thickly.

Anthony’s mouth twitched at the corners, and he stepped over to me in order to gift his bouquet of roses. “Lady Denbow, I do not blame Miss Denbow for anything. She was suffering and knew no other way to communicate.” Before he slipped back, his fingers lightly stroked both of my hands, then he sat in an empty chair.

Cheeky bastard. He was making light of my missteps, which Mama considered especially inexcusable. And for his compassion, I could not have been more forever thankful. “Oh, Lord Bridgerton, thank you. To hear you say that alleviates my anxiety. And thank you for these roses.” I ran over the smooth petals with my thumb, then bent closer to take in the fragrance of them.

But once again, with more berating remarks on my ‘unladylike’ and ‘outrageous’ nature, Mama ruined the temporary pleasant environment. “I can't understand why, my lord, you want to court her. She may be my only child, but I'm sure she would be a far better choice for another lord of her equals.” My own mother had a toxic tongue which might ostracize her if she didn't take caution of others.

In order to defend against the offensive expressions she was thinking about me, as if I weren't really there, I opened my mouth, but Anthony decided to stand up from his seat and settled next to me. “I'm going to say this as politely as I can, Lady Denbow. What Miss Denbow did at the picnic was not wrong, and she's a wonderfully capable young lady. You are her mother, and I must admit that what you have said makes me very mortified.”

With discomposure, Mama's face grew red and, at last, she remained at a loss for words. “Lord Bridgerton, my apologies. Forgive your mama, y/n. My intention was not to negatively impact you such a way. I'm worried you can't even defend yourself.” Excuse after excuse were all I heard coming from her, but I needed to leave this conversation in the past.

“Mama, I'm forgiving you. But please don't think of me like that. When you do not see that I am well aware of what I'm doing and what I believe is important, I am in despair. I'm no longer a little girl.” Mama nodded, but in sensitivity, she refused to speak as she left Anthony and I in the room alone. "Well, either that may well have gotten out of hand, or the way I hoped it would.”

A chuckle escapes from the Viscount, and I recline against the back of the sofa with a tired sigh. I loved my mama and papa, but sometimes they treated me like I would never age from my childhood years. Despite having no brothers or sisters, I had friends who supported me and shared the same interests as I grew older.

Having Lord Bridgerton here was an enigma that I couldn’t fathom, but I appreciated how he stood up for me when mama complained without cease. Now that she was gone, I took the opportunity to ask him as to why he came to my home. “Anthony, can you tell me the reason for your visit? We both know that you don’t have intentions to court me contrary to what outsiders might believe.” I crossed my arms and waited for a reply, which was his hand resting on the top of my thigh. Perplexed, I looked over at him to see his eyes full of sympathy.

“Y/n, what Hastings said could have been less severe than they actually were, and Daphne chastised him for doing so.” Anthony began, his grip squeezing in reassurance, and he gently pulled it away once I’ve had enough time to comprehend what he told me. It warmed my heart to hear that Daphne was upset in my stead, although I’m sure anyone in their right mind would have done the same for me.

My thoughts wandered to how both the eldest child and the Duke of Hastings were famous rakes with great influence. One had brothers who would take his title and estate if he were to pass, whereas the other had no known relatives and only Lady Danbury to defend his name after his death. I found it funny that I’ve fallen in love with the latter, and he was treating me like I didn’t have a place in his place.

I must’ve been worrying Anthony with my lack of response because he waved a hand in front of my face to bring me back into reality. I shook my head of the unrelated topic and smiled sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I became lost before I realized that I’d drifted off.” “Oh, it’s quite alright. Trust me, I do the exact same thing when I’m alone.”

“I’ll be impartial with you, Anthony. I hadn’t given it consideration that your sister would do such a thing, and for me, no less. Perhaps I’ve had the wrong impression of her from the beginning. Everything is going terribly, and I haven’t been able to think properly.” I wore my heart on my sleeve for him to see, and I didn’t care about exposing my weaknesses to him. But Anthony seemed be torn between hugging me and giving a simple pat on my shoulder lest an unwanted third party were to walk in.

If anyone noticed the unusual display of affection, then news would spread that rather than waiting to fulfill the courtship rituals, I was advancing on a lord. He wouldn't be much of a gentleman, in Anthony's opinion, if he were to neglect a woman in distress. “When you weep, I don't like it. It so pains me when I'm labelled useless, but when you're laughing, you look the most spectacular, y/n. Simon's blind and ludicrous, but I know you really love him, don't you?”

“You're right, my lord. Again. I need to let go of my struggles and to live my life to its fullest. The Duke encouraged what I would like to go do, become, and pursue, but under false premises, he is intimately involved to your younger sister.” I forced my body to stand, and in confusion, but without doubt, Anthony quickly followed. In my own house, it felt too stifling, so I concluded that a stroll outside would hopefully help take my mind off what occupied it at the moment.

“Is there anything other than whining and moaning that I could do instead? Wait, Queen Charlotte is holding a ball for her nephew, is she not? I do believe his name is Prince Friedrich.” Anthony gave a short nod, and I could tell that he was already dreading a night of being surrounded by desperate mamas along with their unabashed daughters. Who would blame the Viscount for trying to discourage total strangers from making unwelcome advantages?

I was unexpectedly given the best idea by his affirmation, and I couldn't wait to put it into motion. I wanted to prove my worth to Simon, which would make Anthony and the Prince the ideal partners to irk him. “What say you to opening Simon's eyes in the notion that I attract His Highness tonight? I will have to be in the most magnificent ballgown, and I know that you can help me with this.”

“In the heat of the moment, it won't take a lot of effort to raise feelings of inadequacy in Hastings. He will be fixated on Daphne and attempting to keep conversations with literally everyone who comes across him, but I don't find it unlikely that he will be observing you with the Prince. I know I wouldn't have the means to take my eyes off you, my dear.” That was just what I expected to hear from him, and furthermore. I felt that I had done well enough to seek a Viscount who had awareness of everyone else around him.

Then that settled it. I was going to win the Prince's favor, and Simon would spectate from the sidelines with no likelihood of attempting to snatch me away. It felt invigorating even to think about how it would play out tonight, but it would be seamless with Anthony's help. “For your time and soothing words, I am beyond delighted, Anthony. Until the ball, there is more than enough time, so I want to use it to aim for perfection. Tonight, I hope to see you, my lord.”

“Miss Denbow, I am forever happy to console a lady when she is enduring pain. And indeed, tonight, to my great reluctance, you will see me. For now, I will leave you and I look forward to enjoying your progress.” Anthony bowed as he started to walk out of the family room, and with a curtsey and a goodbye, I accompanied him to our front door.

Since then, hours have passed, and I finally found a dress from Lady Delacroix that was incredible. She wasn't even from France, and her accent didn't fool me.  Not important.  My makeup was done by Marianne, my hair was styled by Lucinda, and mama lent me her diamond necklace to wear. It matched the diamond earrings I got from papa on my eighteenth birthday, and tonight, nothing could go wrong. I was positive of that.

The time had come, and I was one of the few to arrive at the castle fashionably late. The eyes of all were on me, making my chest swell with pride. I got a glimpse of Simon and Daphne who were standing by the refreshments, and they couldn't stop watching as I elegantly walked down the stairwell.

To my amusement, Prince Friedrich was the first one to approach me, and he held my hand and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of it. “Good evening, my lady. You are by far the most beautiful and hypnotizing center of attraction in this ballroom. May I inquire for your name?”

I concealed the lower half of my face with a fan and smiled with my eyes, captivated by his mannerisms. “I have the luxury of being graced by your presence, your highness. My name is y/n Denbow.” After I've presented myself, Prince Friedrich's face lit up, and he guided me off the the last two steps. “To my ears, your name is like music, and it's perfect for a maiden like you, Miss Denbow.”

His flattery would make any young lady practically beg the Prince for a dance at the ball. Well, if he could ever tear himself away from me, that was. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You make me feel like I've got my head in the clouds. If you keep complimenting her, you will certainly find yourself a maiden to court this evening.” From my comment, I swore he blushed a bright red.

“Ah, hello, Prince Friedrich! Miss Denbow! I see that you have made friends with each other. Y/n, I'm so happy you've arrived safe and sound back in London.” Lady Danbury tapped her cane on the ground twice to emphasize her excitement, and I couldn't have been more relieved to see a familiar face among those whose names I couldn't match.

“I have so much to tell you, Lady Danbury. But not here, especially when I came so late.” I apologized to the Prince and wrapped my arm around Lady Danbury as we walked into a more private area. She furrowed her eyebrows together, but she didn't inquire until we got to the place where we could be alone. “Well, speak to me, y/n. What are you so worried about? And why did you come by yourself?”

I bit my lower lip and exhaled deeply, which all the more displeased Lady Danbury. If I tried to explain my desperate condition to her, she was going to have countless questions, and I knew she would never let Simon live in the humiliation he brought upon himself. “I'm sure you've recently read Lady Whistledown's column, and my relationship with Simon, Lady Danbury, is complicated.”

“Unbeknownst to me, when I was in France, he and Miss Bridgerton declared their engagement. He did not give me a letter or even a note when I returned to London that he had gone ahead with a marriage proposal to a young woman he had never met before. I invited him and the Bridgertons to have a picnic just yesterday. I have never been able to remain quiet forever; you know this, Lady Danbury. He lashed out at me, claiming that if he had known that I would be so self-centered and petty, he would never have gotten to know me.”

She went on a tangent as I predicted about how she raised and trained "the shameless rake" to do better than what he did. During the length of her grievances, I remained silent, then patted her arm softly when she started to run out of words to illustrate the Duke. “Compared to his late father, he's not terrible, but he might just be so after he treated you, y/n, and I apologize on his behalf.”

In disagreement, I shook my head, not acknowledging her apologies because she had nothing to do with that. In the sense of flirting with Prince Friedrich, all I wanted from her was to be an addition to humiliate Simon. “If we succeed, then he'll see the good thing that he lost because he agreed to marry another needy girl.”

This caused Lady Danbury to chuckle at my remark, and I had an inkling that her mood improved just a little bit. “I’ll take part in your schemes, girl. Now, let us return to the ball before we’re asked of our whereabouts.” She winked playfully, then gently pushed me back the way we came from.

Men and women danced to their heart’s content, their veins pumping with champagne and even the possibility that they will be courting after tonight. I see Anthony and Simon quietly bickering where no one could eavesdrop on the conversation, but their secrets weren’t going to be hidden from me. “Lord Bridgerton, I thought you promised me a dance?”

I chimed into the midst of their argument, and Simon’s mouth hung open in shock. He quickly closed it, though, and I bowed to him as acknowledgment for his presence. Anthony gathered the remnants of his dignity before offering a hand for me to take. “My apologies, Miss Denbow. I promise you that never slipped my mind from the moment that I asked.”

After the brief yet nerve wracking encounter with the Duke of Hastings, I’m led to have a dance with the Viscount and my new partner of schemes. I felt everyone’s eyes glued to us, which makes me uncomfortable because of the unwanted attention, but it dissolves when Anthony nudges me to look up at him. That’s when I knew how much I admired the man, and perhaps, there wasn’t any obstacle that we wouldn’t be able to overcome.

I may have lost my first love to Daphne, but I also had the power to pull the necessary strings to get what I wanted. Anthony tightened his grip on my waist then closed the gap between us, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Simon glare at our swaying figures amongst the others. The spectacle made me laugh softly against the Viscount’s shoulder, and his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh of his own.

“I believe that taught him a harsh lesson, don’t you think, Miss Denbow?” Anthony whispered into my ear, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. After clearing my throat, I nodded in agreement. The man wasn’t exactly reputable in every way, but he damn well had my respect. “Yes, it most certainly did, Lord Bridgerton.” I replied, head tilted downwards to avoid eye contact with him.

Once our dance came to an end, I was approached by Prince Friedrich a second time this evening. Young and older women alike flocked around his highness, and I took a small step closer to Anthony in fear that I would be ridiculed by them. Wait, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t be afraid of the people that make their bosoms unnaturally larger than they actually are nor should I be backing away!

“Miss Denbow, may I have this next dance? It’d make me extremely delighted.” Prince Friedrich asked, unknowingly breaking the tension growing between myself and the disappointed women behind him. All I gave him was a smile along with an enthusiastic nod, and Anthony released his arms from around my waist. “I’d love to, your highness. And I could say the same about myself.”

The prince took my hand just when the next song began to play, and we danced as if we were one. If I were being completely honest, he needed a little more practice with his feet, but I was enjoying myself nonetheless. We shared a few words and I kept glancing over our shoulders to see if Simon was keeping an eye on us. In fact, he had been watching the entire time, and Anthony gave me a signal that our plan had succeeded.

I bowed deeply to the prince when our dance came to its regrettable end, and bid him farewell for the rest of the night. Simon appeared out of nowhere then pulled me to an empty area despite my cries of protest. “What do you think you’re doing?! Just because you’re jealous does not give you the right to drag me as you so please, Hastings!”

“Will you keep it down, Y/N?! We both know that I’m not the only jealous one here.” He huffs angrily, and for the first time in a long time, he’s rendered me utterly speechless. No, I won’t play by his rules. Not when there was so much more for me to accomplish. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply fulfilling my role as a maiden who hopes to have a courtship.”

Simon rolled his eyes in disbelief, turning away from me so that I’m only staring at his broad shoulders. I’m beginning to lose my calm composure, and the more I stay alone with him, the less I’ll want to leave. He can’t learn of the nights when I suffered alone in France, and he certainly couldn’t force me to risk my reputation for his sake.

“You’ve changed, Simon.” My voice broke at the end of my sentence, but I continued to speak. “I’m not doing anything for you, so don’t get your hopes up.” He scoffed, not convinced by my words, and turned back to face me. His arms find their way around my body like they used to in the past. The next thing I knew, we’re kissing passionately against the cold marble walls.

He had me mewling his name over and over again, begging for a release that was on his fingertips. Simon muffled my sighs of pleasure with his mouth, and we fixed the bridge that was crumbling between the two of us. When we were satisfied, he muttered apology after apology as he kissed my skin. But we both knew that we run away with the position that he was in.

“I’ll figure it out, so wait for me. Please, Y/N.” “Don’t make me promise you, Simon. I want you to prove to me that I’m the only woman you love.” I kissed his neck and cheek, my heartbeat slowing to its normal pace before I fixed my dress. We’ve both been gone for too long, and I didn’t doubt that I would be questioned of my whereabouts.

Simon understood the weight of my words as well as what we would both face when we left separately. He kissed me one last time, and made his return to the ballroom until I did the same. Thankfully, neither Anthony or Mama asked where I had been, and I could breathe easy again. But now I was even more conflicted than before. I made Simon jealous, which ignited sex and doubt that we would be together after all this time.

Although... if I were to adjust my original plans in order for us to have a wedding and deal with the consequences afterwards, then it shouldn’t be very difficult, would it? Well, we would just need to face the challenges when the time comes, and I was determined to have Simon all to myself again.

[ethanharli]

Requested: Nah.

Pairing(s): Asra x Top Male Reader

Warning(s): Some Angst, Flashbacks, Mentions of heartbreak, Sudden confession, Cliffhanger, Long, Sister Nadia.

A/n- I brought this over from my Wattpad, and I edited it a bit but this is the longest One-Shot I've ever made, just fifty words away from three thousand :")).

_______________

A frustrated groan slipped past my lips as I fumbled with the sleeves of my costume, it may sound silly but its true. I refuse to wear anything that could reveal my torso, besides my face of course but that's only because its not covered in ink. Now don't get me wrong, the art adoring my body is nothing but beautiful, yet some of its a bit much for the public eye, and I hate attention. Guess Muriel and I are the same in that regard. After adjusting the sleeves I slipped on my rings and emerald necklace that clung tightly around my throat, which didn't bother me in the slightest bit as I drag my pierced tongue over my bottom lip. Finishing up with a few things I quickly locked up my house and headed on my way to the palace, Nadia had invited me over for the Masquerade this year since the last one ended with Lucio and the Devil trying to take over.

I really have to admire that apprentice, their magic is quiet fascinating. With a small smirk I slipped on my wolfs mask, nothing original but the black and vibrant neon of purple and green helping it stand out, even if only by the slightest. The journey to the palace was quite fun, watching people light up fireworks and drink to their hearts content without a worry in the world. Yet it was a whole new world once I entered the palace gates, making my way towards the ball room in hopes to run into my sister, but Nadia is nowhere to be found. "Should've expected as much, she is the Countess after all" I muttered with a proud smile, if only my familiar where here to keep me company but sadly having a grey wolf in this crowd isn't such a good idea, poor thing would be trampled despite her large size.

Taking a glass of wine I sipped it slowly, enjoying the bubbly feeling of it going down my throat. Yet a slither around my ankle caught my attention, and I froze at the sight of a familiar snake, looking up at me with their cute tilted head. "Friend!" Faust cheered, happily slithering up my body to rest on my shoulders, "Yes Faust, it's good to see you again" A pained smile forced at my lips, scratching softly under Faust's chin. If Faust's here then Asra and his apprentice must be close by, I should've expected as much. "Miss you" My heart tightened at the words, forcing the breath out my lungs painfully, and here I thought I could enjoy the Masquerade without running into anyone else, but I guess even an over packed Masquerade can't hide me from them. "I missed you too Faust-" My words were cut off by a familiar voice, merely a couple feet behind me, yelling for the beautiful creature wrapped around my shoulders.

"Im sorry Faust but I really should be leaving, please don't tell Asra I was here alright?" I asked as worry started to pool in the pit of my stomach, however Faust simply tilted her head, watching me curiously. Nevertheless I made a slow pace to the exit, not wanting to rise any sort of suspicion as Asra yells a bit louder. And there he is, my savior. Putting on a small smile I took a drink from a waiters tray, walking up to Julian without seeming any bit out of place, then once the right moment hit I brushed my shoulder against his and shrugged Faust onto him, not once turning back to look at them. However I knew I wasn't out in the clear just yet since a pair of eyes followed me as I left the room.

Being out in the hall felt a lot better then being so close to him. Especially when I'm not ready to face him just yet, hell I don't even think I have the power to look at him without freezing up, how stupid of me to think I could come back here. "[Y/n]?" The sound of Nadia's voice finally got me to relax a bit, letting the tension in my shoulders drop, "Hey Sis, it's been a while" I smiled down at her, watching as her eyes soften before pulling me into a tight embrace that I gladly returned. "Where'd you go? You told me that you were going to talk to Asra after what happened with Lucio and the Devil but it was only him that came back, he said he didn't know where you ran off to and when I tried to ask what happened he'd never answer!" Her crimson eyes glare up at me as they slowly fill with tears that I quickly brushed away.

"Its okay Nadi, Im back now and I plan to stay, I missed my little sister way to much to be gone for so long" I chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood even only for a second, before she looks at my costume with not very well hidden disgust. "You've really never had an eye for fashion have you?" She sighs, taking my hand and dragging me down the hall where Portia was standing. Once her eyes met mine her face lit up in realization, "[Y/n]! You're back!" She jumped up to hug me, which I returned with a ruffle of her long hair.

"Portia could you please get my dear brother to one of the guest rooms so he can change?" Nadi smiled and Portia couldn't have answered any happier, "Yes milady! Now c'mon [Y/n] lets get you a new costume!" She cheered, dragging me away by the sleeve of my shirt. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this wasn't going to end well, and by the time I was pushed in the room with a new set of clothing I knew I was right. The clothing was way to revealing for my liking, even though the color and fabric made me look elegant and right at home. The top exposed my arms and most of my chest, the 'V' stopping right above my waist which the pants hugged tightly, yet the rest of it was baggy except the bottom of it, which also hugged my ankles nicely.

But my tattoos and scars were out in the open. The skulls, flowers, and chains that decorate my body glowed a faint blue color, as if cheering that they were finally free from my always concealed clothing.

I didn't want to wear it, every part of my mind was screaming to tear it off but I couldn't. My sister picked this out for me and this is her party, I'll do it for her if not for myself. Sliding my mask back on I headed out the room, looking down at Portia with a nervous smile as she stared at the art in wonder, "I never knew you had these!" She pouted, looking as If I had betrayed her somehow. I could only reached out and pat her head, trying to ignore the eyes that locked onto me, "Im not very fond of them, so I always hid them, Im sorry for not telling you sooner." She merely rolled her eyes and smiled at me before realization yet again broke on her face, "I need to go tell the rest you're here! Stay put!" My eyes widened as I tried to stop her, but she was already out of reach before I could, and the slithery presence was back at my feet.

"Friend!"

Fucking hell.

At that moment I felt the fight to run away slowly drain from me, I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, no matter how hard I tried. Even so, with what resistance was left in me I headed towards the garden with Faust resting peacefully on my shoulders, and stayed put by the fountain, letting my eyes flutter shut for a mere moment.

_____

My palms started to sweat as I looked down into those mesmerizing lavender eyes that watched me with an amused glint, "Asra I-" The words got caught in my throat for the millionth time now, and even I was getting impatient with myself. But can you blame me? Asra looked so majestic under the moonlight, with the stars that practically glowed in his eye's, I don't think I've ever thought it was possible to feel so relaxed and intimidated at the same time.

"[Y/n], are you okay?" He asked, his voice barley above a whisper as he slowly reached up, softly brushing his fingers against my cheek. A flutter in my chest caused the chains on my body to recoil slightly, and thankfully he didn't notice the change, "No, I just can't hold it in anymore Asra" My hand clenched tightly on my sleeves, nearly causing them to rip while Asra brushed a lock of hair of of my face. "Hold in what?" He smiled, but my eyes drifted to his chest, looking where the mark on his heart is hiding, causing me to reluctantly pull away from his touch.

It was a simple friendly gesture he's always done to calm me down, to bring me back from whatever clouded my thoughts. So when I pulled away he reached out again, slower this time, as if any rushed movement would send me away. "Asra stop" He looked a bit shocked when I grabbed his wrist, but my grip was gentle, cause I'm more afraid of hurting him than anyone else. However the negative thoughts practically swallowed my mind whole as I rejected his magic from flowing into me. The mark on his chest was the only thing I could look at, cause it reminds me everyday that he gave up some of his heart for his apprentice, to bring them back. Jealousy truly is a cruel thing.

"Nevermind, it was foolish of me to think I even had a chance" I whispered with a bitter chuckle, taking a step back I crossed my arms, turning my broken gaze towards the sky. "Forget it, just go back to your apprentice, they need you more than I do" I don't know why my words came out laced in such malice and sorrow, but they did, and that seemed to earn a glare back from him. "What's wrong with you? Ever since you found out about my deal its like all you want to do is run away from me and push me away, if you have something to say to me then go ahead and say it, but do not drag them into this."

The chain around my neck tightened, slowly crushing at my windpipe as I clenched my fists and smiled softly to myself. I knew I'd regret what I did next, I knew it would weigh on me forever, I knew it would cause me much more pain then it did right then, but I did it anyway. Ill have to thank Ilya if this works, putting on my best face I turned towards Asra and scoffed, tilting my head a bit, like I usually do when pissed off, even though this is just a lovely facade. "Don't even bother, its not like you'd care anyways, would you? All you care about is that apprentice of yours, you even gave up part of your heart for them" I let the words flow, nearly letting the tears pool in my eyes when I spat them out.

"Is that really what you think?" He hissed, knuckles turning white from how tightly he was grasping his sleeves, but I didn't let myself falter under his gaze. "Asra I don't have to think it when I know its true, we've known each other since we were kids, you can't fool me" I scoffed, glaring back into his lavender eyes, keeping that gaze was a lot harder then I thought it would be. Before he could speak up I made sure to cut him off, "You love 'em, that's the only reason you'd do it right? Because you love them? Let me guess, you couldn't live without them could you?" I rolled my eyes, looking off to my left, practically feeling his breath hitch for a moment, confirming what I needed to know.

Im sorry Asra.

You don't have to forgive me.

Because I highly doubt these chains will go anywhere, I can never be free. Even with you by my side, the one person that keeps me together, the one person that I'd risk everything for.

Im so sorry.

"Just leave already, its not like you want to be here anyways right? So just leave me alone, I don't want you here."

_____

I don't remember much after that, but I do know he left, and I was left alone to wallow in my own despair. The chains got tighter over the year, so tight that the only thing keeping me breathing is all the techniques I've learned, and the fact I learned how to hold my breath for a long while. A few tears slip past my [E/c] eyes, that Faust happily wipes away with her tail, rubbing her face against my cheek, "Friend!" She smiles, curling against me, it felt so good to have her around again. Even if this'll be the last time.

The chains tighten a slight fraction, forcing me to hold my breath. "[Y/n]?" My body tensed at how my name rolled off his lips, it felt like a distant dream, like this isn't actually happening, but one look at him and I know its real. My god has he always looked so gorgeous? Or am I going crazy? Probably both. Once [E/c] met Lavender I knew I was done, his hairs pushed back like last year though the mask kinda looks the same, with only a few added touches, and his costume definitely gets him to stand out above the rest, just a beautiful array of bright colors clashing against his mixed skin, it hugs his figure perfectly. He looks like a god amongst the light of the fountain.

"Its me" I sighed out, reluctantly turning my gaze back to my feet. I couldn't help the surprise when he moved in front of me, placing both hands on my cheeks, looking into my eyes with such relief that I could hardly believe it. His touch sent shivers down my spine, slowly I started to breathe again as the chains retract a bit, I had clearly forgotten how revealing my clothes are, cause once the chains pulled back Asra's eyes shifted to them.  "How long have you had these?" He asked, trailing his hands down to trace the marking with a soft touch, "Asra wait-" Yet the mark appears, the same one he has, just mine glowed a faint blue in the center of my chest.

His eyes widened seeing the mark, keeping his eyes on it as if it were to attack at any moment, "You've never had chains, its always been your skulls and flowers, is it because of this? Why didn't you tell me about this?" He looked hurt, the same hurt in his eyes that he had a year ago when we last talked.

"What was your deal?"

Oh how I wanted to tell him, but the chains tightened at the thought, yet I pushed through it, Im tired of lying, I'm tired of keeping everything in, Im tired of it all, "That I couldn't be open anymore, that I wouldn't be able to speak my mind freely like I once did." A small cough ripped out my throat as a blue glow tried to burn past the chains, failing miserably. "What? Why?" He looked stunned, I don't blame him, I've always been one to speak my mind and tell everyone how I'm feeling, to be honest to myself and them without a care about what others thought.

But..

"I was scared, there's something I've always wanted to say, but I never could because I've always been so afraid about what would happen after, what if it went wrong? What if I messed up? What if I said something wrong? What if you-" My mouth snapped shut as quickly as it could, now I certainly can't avoid this, cause those lavender eyes stare at me with such intensity I might just burn away. His hands slowly moved up to my neck, letting his magic aid in pulling the chain away from my neck, allowing me to breath freely. "What about me?" He asked softly, keeping his gaze fixed on mine as my hands unconsciously travel to his hips.

I guess it's now or never..

Building what up whatever courage I had left, I pulled Asra against my chest, using one hand to push his mask out the way, before claiming his lips with mine.

[dreaminpeaches]

(Welcome to the daydream drawing board, a tag where I share some my newest ideas not all of these ideas will be thought out--mostly just quick points-- but it's just nice to have them some where...oof)

TW: angst, mention of domestic abuse, child abuse, alcohol mentioned, father mentioned, bullying and guilt...

(Be sure you're mentally ready, you can come back later or take breaks while reading, it's kind of long...oof)

The most recent concept I dreamed up is about a couple consisting of a reformed/"retired" highschool bully/jock who falls for the new nerdy woman in town, this paracosm is mildly inspired by A Silent Voice, Bojack Horseman and Strange things (but only like a little bit)

Beau

He was the high school quarterback and star player

He was super popular and everyone wanted to be around him

His fave after school activities where smoking under the blenchers (after practice), going out to parties, making out with hotest girls in school (usually the new girls), bullying the weaker "outcast" kids, flirting with older women into getting him and his friends alcohol, and other dumb jock stuff

Beau always made fun of the weird nerdy kids; giving them swirlies, stuffing them in lockers, hiding their belongs (glasses, inhalers, backpacks, calculators, handle gaming devices etc), and throwing a few knuckle sandwiches at them on his worst days.

Beau bullied other because he had a rough home life, his father was abusive and usually came home angry and would take out his anger on the family (, mostly Beau's mom)

Beau's parents had him at young age, Beau's dad had big dreams at becoming a famous author but had a hard time getting his books picked up and blamed his career failures on Beau

Beau would try to protect his family from his dad's outburst but the only person he could protect successful was his little brother, Devin.

When Beau would try to protect his mother he would get brutally beaten by his dad in process, sometimes he would get hit so bad that he blacked out, because of this Beau's mom would tell him go to the treehouse and take his little brother with him in hopes they wouldn't hear their parents fight

In the treehouse, Beau would read books to Devin to distract him from what was happening, one of Devin's favorite books was "Is there a horse in your house?" A simple book about looking for a horse in a house, Devin would always find this book funny and hearing his little brother's laugh made Beau feel better, so Beau wouldn't mind having to read it over and over again. (This was back when Beau was in early middle school and Dev was in kindergarten)

Beau and Dev knew it was "safe" to come out, when their mother said dinner was ready, but there would be some days where they end up sleeping in the treehouse and waking up to their mom telling them breakfast was ready and they had to eat quietly while their dad slept

It was in middle school, Beau started to bully other kids, he liked the power and feeling of being able to fight someone and win, to be the one to be feared instead of being afaird, it was addicting

Football became a better way to cope with his feeling but he still bullied none the less.

Football was the only time where his dad wasn't as much of jerk, it was almost like Beau's dad was felt like an actual father when watching football, and being on the football team was an achievement his dad was actually proud of beau for, so thanksgiving and super bowl season was a somewhat peaceful time

Around sophomore year his mother finally got away from her abusive husband, soon after Beau's mom fell in love with a nice man, who actually cared about her and they got married and had a daughter together who became Beau's little sister, Carrie whom he loves dearly..

Beau is super over protective of his family (protecting both his siblings from other bullies, ironically), to the point where even when his mom found a new lover, Beau still keep his guard up and because of this his step dad is kind of intimidated by him

Beau was able to bond with his step dad over cars and mechanics, a topic Beau was obsessed about since middle school because he would dream of building a car that would be able to drive him and his family far away from his father as possible without stopping

Beau's step dad owns a gas station/mechanics shop, Beau would help out in the shop on weekends when he was free and occasionally steal beer for parties.

Despite his bully/typical jock persona Beau is actually quite patient especially when it comes to younger kids

Due how stressful her home life was, Beau would take it upon himself to look after his little brother and do chores around the house when his mom was unable to, he would even cook dinner and breakfast (a skill he learned to do at an earlier age compared to his peers), his dad often called him a "Sissy" for doing so..

Beau never asked for allowance, since his family was kind of tight on money he felt bad for asking, so he just took lunch money and allowance from the kids he bullied. Money would go to grocery money, money to buy gifts for his mother/brother, money to help with rent , or money just to buy the new NFL game or some alcohol or cigarettes.

In his high school days , sometimes when Beau didn't want to deal with his dad/home life he would crash at friends place or stay over after a party but he would call up to make sure his little brother/mother/sister were okay

Beau started smoking on a dare, when he realized it kind help ease the mental pain, he started doing it for real (same with drinking)

Even Beau liked to drink, he never drove drunk or let his friends drive drunk, if was a party mostly consisting of his friends he would try his best to be the sober one to drive everyone home

Beau was set to be a big football star once he graduated highschool he even got into an ivy league school, but there was something stopping him from focusing fully on his studies, (that and the fact he kind of cheated since he let the nerds he bullied do most of his homework since he didn't have time or just do lazy to actually do it himself in highschool), so he ended up flunking out

During the time he dropped out his step dad needed an extra hand at the shop, so he thought might as well go back home

At first Beau thought his family would be disappointed in him but they couldn't be more happy that he was back home especially his siblings

It was when he returned to his hometown that he finally realized what was feeling was haunting him this whole time it was the feeling of guilt he had gotten from being a bully for so long. Since most of his jock friends were busy with their college career, it left him with little to no friends in his hometown, Everytime he saw a familiar face around town it was usually one of his former victims, seeing them would give him a weird sick oozey feeling in his stomach, and it didn't help that his step dad ran popular mechanic shop that was frequented by the locals, the feeling of guilt got so bad at times, he would stay home from work but wouldn't really tell his parents why out of fear that they would hate him.

So, when Beau meets the new woman in town, Bonnie who works at the comic book shop/arcade/maid cafe, who becomes the only person Beau can talk to in town besides his family, and he starts to fall for her. He feels conflicted because this would be someone he would totally bully in high school, but shes really so nice and sweet to him, does he really deserve girl that nice, what happens if she finds out about his past, will Bonnie still love him.

Beau makes it his mission to try and make amends with the people he has bullied over the years, at first he does this on his own (with a little help for Dev whose middle school age now), without Bonnie knowing but one of the nerds used to bully kind of sorta also gets a crush on Bonnie and feels like she's too good for Beau, and tries to expose him for the "fiend" he is. This leads to Beau having mental break down when he knows Bonnie knows about his past, but she comforts him and accepts him for who he is, and helps him try to make amends with his past victims...

Some people accept Beau's apology right away (understanding his background), others take a while, some don't forgive Beau at all, which he respectfully understands, he was kind of jerk

Oof, this is prolly gonna be the most heavy paracosm I have if I continue it, but if I do post about it's mostly gonna be fluffy light stuff--nerd/jock dynamic interactions, along with toll/smoll dynamic interactions. OH by the way this paracosm is set in the 80/90s maybe early 2000s because they don't use smartphones in this paracosm it's mostly payphones, landlines, VHS tapes, DVDs and tape records (but I will use modern music if and when I make a playlist, so it might be a mixed timeline) also I don't have a name for this paracosm might edit one in later...

[eagles-translated]

Answering Eagles questions before the season 3 finale (Part 1/2)

I've received a bunch of questions since 3x08 and 3x09 dropped, so I compiled all the questions into two posts. I had to split them up because Tumblr only allows 10 images per post. Anyway, keep reading to see my answers and enjoy! 👇

My theory is that everybody will be gathered together for some event and then shit goes down. Sort of like the ending of 1x08.

We've seen an image of Adam, Omar, and Ludde together at a party of some sort. I can't post it here because of Tumblr only allowing ten pictures, but you can find it in Ludde's prediction post that I made prior to the season 3 premiere.

Felicia might be absent from this considering how her mental health has been recently, and instead opting to stay at home rather than attending a party.

I have my suspicions that Elias will be attending this party, though. We saw him at some concert in the season 3 trailer and they made it look like he was watching Amie singing in Stockholm. But maybe Amie will be performing at this party and Elias is watching her here instead?

It seems like Amie singing at the end of the season has become kind of a recurring theme. She performed "Follow" in 1x08 and "Second Sight" in 2x10 (on the radio, but my point still stands). I wouldn't be surprised if they followed this trend by having Amie perform a new song in the season 3 finale.

Maybe Elias approaches her after the performance to express how good she is. He hasn't really seen her do a live performance since 1x08, where she still hadn't really come out of her shell. They've also grown a lot closer this season. Perhaps Elias even has something more to tell her?

I can't help but feel like this party will end on a bad note, though. We have that whole thing with Andreas potentially buying a gun or whatever he's up to (discussed this more in another question down below).

I have a feeling this party is going to get interrupted in some way and that the season is going to end on a major cliffhanger.

I don't even know what they'll do with Ludde and Felicia. Ludde has no idea what happened to Felicia in these last two episodes, and I hope they'll have a conversation just to clear the air surrounding the whole press situation. Ludde still loves her even if he broke things off, and I would really like to see him reassure Felicia that the blame lies with Jack and not her. I don't think they will get back together and repeat what 2x10 did since the drama is still so fresh. Felicia shouldn't really get into a relationship right now, either.

I'm unsure about Klara. I feel like she's mostly done her part this season, but maybe things aren't completely finished between her and Elias. Maybe there were some things left unsaid on Klara's part when she met with Elias at the café, and Elias never really confirmed where he was at.

This talk regarding their relationship (and Eagles?) might happen in the season finale. I'm leaning towards them ending it for good since I doubt they will be getting back together. However, I'm pretty sure that it will be on good terms now after everything Klara did for Felicia.

I somewhat agree with this, even if it was worded a little harshly. Felicia shouldn't have been so quick to share the most personal thing that had ever happened to her on her first date with a guy she had just met. And she shouldn't have done the same thing with Jack, even if it was someone she'd known for longer.

I think she should've at least waited a while to see if the person she told her secrets to was trustworthy—sort of like Ludde did when he told Felicia the truth about how Andreas landed in prison. That's a huge secret and it made more sense to have it be shared closer to the end of the first season rather in the first three episodes.

On the other hand, I can definitely understand why she was so quick to share her problems. Felicia was really lonely when she first came to Oskarshamn. Her parents were fighting all the time, and her dad was only focused on Elias' hockey career. She carried these huge traumatic events and had nobody really supporting her when she ended up at the hospital and was sent to rehab. Felicia couldn't share the secret about her dad's affair either. She really had nobody in her life that she could talk to about any of this.

So it's reasonable that when she finally met a person who she really connected with, she felt comfortable enough to finally share these burdens she had been carrying. She actually started out by saying this to Ludde in 1x03:

I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I don’t talk about it to people.

I don't think Felicia set out to tell her whole backstory to Ludde. It just happened. I'm not saying it was the right choice, but Felicia probably realized that she desperately needed someone to talk to. And she said herself that it felt really good to just get these secrets out (until it didn't when she thought Ludde had spilled the beans to Klara). Felicia even made sure to stress to Ludde that he couldn't tell anybody about her experiences in the US.

Felicia: I don’t want this to come out, that’s really important. Ludde: Of course, I’d never tell.

A similar situation arose with Jack. Felicia was more isolated than ever and she had aborted a child that nobody knew about—not even her mom. That's a huge secret to carry on your own.

Felicia had known Jack since she was a child. She trusted him and he was a family friend. Not only that, but Jack has the ability to be incredibly charming when he wants to be. If anything, it makes more sense that Felicia told her personal things to Jack rather than to Ludde. She couldn't predict that Jack would turn out to be a cheating asshole who would leak everything in the press. It's kind of sad that Felicia would have to constantly keep quiet about all the wounds she's carrying when support from the people around her is the thing she needs and craves.

I've never said that the Kroon family's reaction to them being slandered in the press wasn't valid. I actually understood their anger and frustration quite well, but they let their emotions get the better of them. Yelling at Felicia did nothing to help the situation even though it's fair that they would direct their anger at the person who was to blame in that situation.

It wasn't pretty, and ganging up on Felicia (when her personal business had also been leaked) wasn't the best way to deal with the situation. But because their privacy was violated, I understand it. I can agree with you on that part.

It just sounds like you're implying that Felicia isn't allowed to share personal stuff at all because it would be "gifting ammo to expose her family". If Jack had actually been a decent person and never ruined her family's reputation in the press, you wouldn't be as harsh on her. The situation just got blown out of proportion for everybody.

Put these questions together since they were sort of asking the same thing regarding the last scene of 3x09. Here is the full transcript from that scene if anybody needs a reminder:

Man: Hey. Andreas: Hello. Man: Wasn’t yesterday. Welcome to the outside. Andreas: Thanks. Hey… The last time I saw you, you said you knew somebody who sells. Man: Are you thinking of a fully automatic? Andreas: Yeah, whatever. Man: There’s a guy in Stockholm. I’ll fix it. I’ll send you the number. Just tell him I sent you. Andreas: Alright, good. Got it. Man: Good. Good, see you. Andreas: See you.

It actually didn't click for me at all when I first saw this scene that Andreas could've been talking about buying a gun—my first thought was actually that he was talking about a car because I'm that stupid lmao.

Anyway, there is definitely potential for the season to end on a cliffhanger involving a gun and Andreas. I have a few theories on what the season could end like. Season 3 has been so much darker than previous seasons, so while this might feel too serious for a show like Eagles it's definitely not out of the question after the recent episodes. Anyway, here's what I think could happen.

1. The season ends with Andreas having the gun—but we don't know if he'll actually use it 2. The season ends with Andreas just about to shoot someone—but we don't know who (?) 3. The season ends with Andreas having just shot someone—but we don't know who (?)

I don't know which one of these theories I'm leaning more towards, but I really hope this won't be the outcome for Andreas. He just spent close to a year in prison for something he didn't even do. Andreas is not a criminal, and it would be disappointing if he actually ended up doing this. They could be throwing us for a loop.

I mean, personally I don't think shooting somebody because they were the reason my younger brother didn't get into his dream school is enough reason to risk ending up in prison for. Yes, Ludde got his reputation ruined, but there are other ways to solve that than to resort to crime. Andreas should know that too, considering the whole thing where he got landed in jail because he tried to protect Ludde.

This could absolutely be the case but at the same time I'm a little unsure. Hopefully things will just go up from here since the last two episodes were so dark, but I'm unsure what that last scene in 3x09 will mean for the season finale.

I hope they will do something similar to 2x10, where the ending was more bittersweet than just sour. We had the moment with Elias finally being drafted to the US and then Felicia and Ludde finally getting back together. We saw Amie achieve her dreams as a pop star. And yet there were still sour tones with us seeing Klara's dad passing away, Ludde being brought to the police station, and Amie being entirely alone and heartbroken.

2x10 was a really good episode and the ending montage gave me goosebumps the first time I saw it. I think ending a season like that, with both positives and negatives, hits you more emotionally rather than just ending on one or the other. The 1x08 season finale was really depressing and while the cliffhanger was intriguing, it didn't hit as hard for me as 2x10.

I'm kind of curious if they'll be able to top that episode—it's definitely among my personal favorites.

My stance is that if Elias and Amie won't happen in 3x10, they will be guaranteed to happen in season 4. There is no way they're passing that opportunity up. They have clear chemistry, are fan favorites, and it absolutely makes sense for them to get together considering where they're at in their journeys—both having realized their dreams but then coming back to Oskarshamn because it didn't turn out the way they thought it would.

I think they have a mutual understanding of each other—in season 3 more than ever—and it would definitely be a shame if their potential was wasted. So I can't see the writer(s) passing up that opportunity.

There is a possibility for Elias to make a move in the season 3 finale, but I think it's better to keep our expectations low. We just had Felicia go through something really traumatic and her whole family is dealing with the ramifications of Jack slandering them in the media. Elias's relationship with Amie might have to take a backseat because of that.

There's also the thing where we thought that Petra might forbid Amie from seeing Elias because the newspapers painted him as a sex addict. But I think Petra and Amie have reached an understanding in their relationship after the whole Michael thing, and I can see Petra taking Amie's word when saying that Elias isn't what the press makes him out to be—and that he's not like his father.

I really do want to see something happen between them in the season finale, though. I'm excited but impatient for Elias and Amie and I think there are many fans who feel the same way.

But there is a reason they've been so slow to develop their relationship. Elias and Amie have grown as people separately and they're at a point where I believe they're more compatible than they ever were previously. They've been building their character development, slowly but surely, and I like that they haven't been rushed together like Felicia and Ludde were.

If nothing happens between them in season 3, don't lose hope. I think season 4 will absolutely be Elias and Amie's season.

I hope so. I hope Petra isn't listening to the tabloids and tries to see what's in front of her instead, which is that Elias is not Mats.

Elias is entirely his own person. I know Petra was heartbroken when Mats left her after getting drafted, but when Elias was put into this exact situation he hesitated because he didn't want to leave Klara alone.

Klara: Elias… I don’t understand why you’re even thinking about this. Of course you’re going [to the US]. You’ve always wanted this. Right? Elias: But I don’t want to leave you.

Petra doesn't know about this, but we as the audience do. Elias's actions have always been caring and supportive (and I'm not just saying this because Elias has always been my favorite character). It should only be a matter of time until Petra realizes that, if she just gave him a chance.

I think that Petra will eventually see that Amie has finally found someone special who makes her happy. That Elias isn't at all like how Mats was at his age, or like Michael who didn't even bother to support her.

Petra has been so unlucky in love and I hope she can see through her prejudices and let her daughter be happy and loved, in the way that Petra never really got to be.

It could happen, but even if it does I don't think they will be separated for most of season 4.

Maybe Amie decides to finally take charge of her career and tells the record label that she's doing this her way or not at all. Maybe she even decides to quit to try a music career on her own terms, or with a different label that doesn't make her as successful but doesn't control her.

I never felt like the particular record label Amie ended up with was a great fit for her. Yes, she's very talented and I would love to see her become an even bigger star, but only if it's done the way Amie wants it to be done. There could be the possibility of Amie leaving the label, just like how Elias left the US.

I definitely think Felicia has picked up on Elias overworking himself. He's been at the gym constantly, even during the school field trip to Stockholm. Elias left this huge opportunity in the US to come back to Eagles, and the overworking could be a result of him feeling like he has to prove to both himself and the people around him that this decision was the right one.

They've been super subtle about this whole thing and I hope they will be discussing it properly soon instead of just giving us small snippets. There was discussion about this being an eating disorder, but I think it's leaning more towards overworking like you said and bad eating habits (in my opinion, we would need to see something more drastic before drawing the conclusion that Elias might have an eating disorder).

There's so much that needs to be brought up in the season 3 finale—like what exactly Andreas is planning and its outcome, Felicia healing after her suicide attempt and potentially having a conversation with Ludde, and maybe some sort of triangle drama between Elias and if he'll choose Klara or Amie. There are so many possibilities here that I have my suspicions that this storyline won't be fully resolved in just one episode.

I think it will be pushed forward into season 4 because that seems to make the most sense right now. I've been wrong before though, so something else could definitely happen.

[katedrakeohd]

Wacky Drabbles #52

this week’s prompt: Sure, alcohol solves most problems, but in this particular case, I don’t think it will help.

Wacky Drabblers: @ao719 @axwalker @bbrandy2002 @bebepac @bitchloveskcbaseball @blackcatkita @bobasheebaby @burnsoslow @dcbbw @debramcg1106 @doriansapprentice @drethanramslay @emceesynonymroll @everythingchoices @flutistbyday2020 @jessiembruno @katedrakeohd @kingliam-rys @losingbraincellseveryday @loveellamae @lucy-268 @oofchoices @openheart12 @pedudley @ravenpuff02 @romanticatheart-posts @sirbeepsalot @speedyoperarascalparty  @storyofmychoices @texaskitten30 @utterlyinevitable @wackydrabbles @walkerswhiskeygirl

..

What happens in Paris....(stays with us forever) (part 1)

TRR book 2:

Drake × MC (Kate Darling)

The lights of Paris twinkle in the warm summer air as Drake and I walk arm in arm back to the train. Between the bachelor party and the drinking game at the dive bar I've had way too much whiskey. Drake is definitely more relaxed, and every now and then I catch him wearing a little smile when he glances my way.

It's been an emotional few days for both of us. In my mind I'm worried about who may still be plotting against me. Bastien and Penelope are the last people I'd have suspected. Bastien is supposed to play a protective role at court.  Who could be so threatened by me that they'd hire Bastien to smear my name in the press? Meanwhile Bertrand had been trying to discredit me and cause more scandal by selling Maxwell's scrapbook photos to a tabloid. How can he have so little faith in me? If those photos had gone public it would have been worse for Liam, and tainted the whole social season before it had even begun.

And then we found out that Maxwell has been hiding Savannah's whereabouts this whole time from Drake. And he's been secretly stealing Beaumont money to support her. Sure he felt his intentions were honorable because he was helping his nephew and respecting Savannah's privacy, but to see Drake every day and hide his own sister from him still hurts. Plus finding out that Bertrand had callously brushed Savannah aside as not being worthy, stung me too and she's not even my sister. No wonder Drake hates nobles and all their pretentiousness and lies.

Drake and I don't know who we can trust anymore. But at least we have eachother. I know he wants to be with me, and I want to be with him too. Although at this point we don't know what kind of relationship we can safely have together. 

Even though Drake had been invited to Liam's bachelor party at the fancy speakeasy as his best friend, he knew he didn't really fit in. I'm glad I was able to be there with him so he wouldn't be the only non-noble at the party. He looked so handsome in his blue jacket and green dress shirt. In the smoky, uber masculine atmosphere of the club with a whiskey in his hand he had looked so sexy too. And being there with him in that black cocktail dress and knowing that he appreciated how good I looked, was a thrill all by itself. If only he and I could have been there on a date instead of a spy mission. 

Although he had tried so hard not to look at all of my exposed skin during the drive in the limo, with every move I made or every time he had to interact with me, I knew he was having a hard time trying to hold himself together. If Maxwell hadn't been there, he would have been all over me for sure. Just like yesterday after we had returned from Savannah's apartment. Granted it had been me who had initiated the brief makeout session, but I couldn't help myself after spending the afternoon with him. We had been riding the emotional high of finding Savannah safe, and discovering that Drake was an uncle.

Ever since I returned to court after the coronation, Drake has been by my side to protect me. And little by little he's been opening up and letting me into his life. I feel safer around him than among all the nobles who have been scheming against me. Even Liam is being openly duplicitous by smiling next to Madeleine for the press, and then seeking out my company in private. Though he and Madeleine have an arrangement as far as I'm concerned, he's still lying to his subjects about their engagement. I'm definitely not comfortable being thought of as his mistress.

In the few moments that Liam and I have had together in private, he's made it plain how much he loves me. And trust me he's quite easy to love back, with his charm, good looks and romantic ways. I'm not going to lie and say I don't care for him, because I do, but loving him comes with a price. No matter what, as a King, his duty to his country comes first. Marrying him comes with a crown and country attached. Sure I can be polite and diplomatic when I have to be, but the idea of being queen scares me. Madeleine can have the crown all she wants, she knows how to be Queen, but I worry about Liam's happiness. 

The more time I spend with Drake though, the more I really don't want to be a noblewoman at all. Despite my love for Cordonia with its unique customs and Mediterranean climate, it's such a breath of fresh air compared to New York, until this scandal is resolved and the media stops blaming me for making Liam's Coronation so controversial; I feel like everyone is staring at me and talking about me.

I wish Drake and I could just run away from all of this and never look back, but we can't.

When we arrive back at the train, Drake walks me back to my compartment. Suddenly being so close to him in the narrow passage is overwhelming and my palms are sweating.  I fumble to work the latch on my door, and can't get it to open.

I can feel his eyes on me as he leans his shoulder against the wall beside me. "Having trouble there, Darling?" he says, in a low tone, his words slightly slurred.

Wiping my hand on the curve of my hip, I can hear a change in his breathing as he steps in behind me. 

"Let me help. These doors can be tricky sometimes, with all the jostling of the train cars."  His breath is hot on the back of my neck, and smells of whiskey. I find myself teetering on my heels and leaning back against the broad wall of his chest.  He reaches around me to put his hand on the door latch, and his other hand braces on my hip to hold me upright. 

"Woah there, Darling. You really are a lightweight when it comes to your whiskey aren't you?"

I giggle self consciously as I hear his soft grunt in my ear, his strong hand easily turning the latch and forcing the door open. He nudges me forward and follows me into my room. Stepping back he leans against the doorframe, watching me kick off my heels and sit down on the edge of the bed.

"So, uh. I guess this is goodnight then." He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to avoid looking at me. 

It's now or never. I either invite him to stay, or let him shuffle off on his own. 

 I know he shares a compartment with Maxwell, who's not exactly his favorite person right now, and I feel sorry for him. "Thanks for sticking up for me back at the party." I say quietly, not wanting him to leave yet.

He steps back into the hall, his hand going to the door latch to pull the door closed. "Yeah, uh you're welcome." He grins sheepishly, "Thanks for stopping me from making a bigger ass of myself. Oh fuck, If I'd hit Bertrand…"  He heaves a sigh, puffing out his cheeks as he breathes out and rubs at the frown on his forehead.

Getting up from the bed I walk over to him, "Hey, I understand. I would have been pissed too. But yeah, hitting him in front of everyone would have been really bad."

He punches the doorframe and then leans his forehead against his fist, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. "It..all..just..makes..me..so..mad." he grounds out, his chest heaving.

Placing my hand on his arm, I can feel how wound up he is, his muscles feel like stone under the fabric of his jacket. Now I know I can't let him be alone. 

"Drake, look at me." I say quietly.

"I can't," he whispers, turning his head to face out into the hall.

Tugging at his arm with both hands, I pull him off balance and he stumbles into my room and I slide the door shut and lock it. Regaining his footing, he stands there, fists clenched and stares me down as I bar the door with my body. "Okay, not funny. Let me out." he grumbles. 

I shake my head, crossing my arms across my middle, deliberately making them a shelf for my breasts. The motion isn't lost on Drake, and I catch him looking down at the way my cleavage is on full display behind the black mesh insert of my dress. He quickly looks away, blushing, and starts to pace back and forth like a caged animal.  His long legs eat up the tiny space in only a couple of strides per trip. I can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears, as he continuously rakes his hair back from his forehead.

"You can work yourself up all you want, Drake. But I'm not letting you out of here to take out your frustrations on destroying the interior of the royal train, or to drown your anger at the bottom of a bottle. Sure, alcohol solves most problems, but in this particular case, I don’t think it will help."

He stops and looks at me, with a devilish smirk on his face, "And if I try to force my way out of here?"

I raise my chin in defiance as he steps over to me, placing his hands on either side of the doorframe and looking down at me in an attempt to intimidate me. "I'll scream." I say, not scared in the least.

His eyebrows shoot up, and now it's him that looks worried. "You wouldn't dare!" 

I undo the button on his jacket, and slide my hands up the front of his shirt stopping them to rest on either side of his neck, his skin feels so hot to my touch. "You need an emotional outlet Drake. Let me help you with that."

/ the second part here

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III Teaser

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III Teaser

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

A/n: guys I thought I’d have a lot more time to write today and I, unfortunately, don’t :(( but here’s another lil sneak peek at what’s to come in the Labyrinth Series!

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Part III Teaser

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…and when he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

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The First Attempt

Poison was the easiest and cleanest way to kill somebody. It involved very little effort on your part, just a slip of the hand to pour the poison into their drink when they weren't looking. It usually didn't involve blood or puke unless you got one of the nastier poisons, which you never did anyways. Some of the girls were more sadistic though and well, you couldn't blame them for it.

But while it was the simplest method of killing someone, it was probably one of the harder ones to pull off. First, faeries had very good senses, especially when it came to smell. One sniff of their drink could expose the poison in it, unless you were able to get your hands on one of the odorless ones. Those were more expensive though and Lydia and Keir certainly weren't willing to fund you guys besides your nightly rate from your clients.

However, when you had made a trip to the apothecary in the underbelly of Hewn City, you had begrudgingly forked over the money for one of those clear, odorless poisons. There was no way anything else would get past Azriel and his shadows.

Your heart ached in your chest as you stared at the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in your pleasure room. Azriel had been kind to you. He had offered you some mercy by buying out your nights and not returning until that fateful meeting at the party. And while he clearly liked being more dominant while bedding you, his touch had been gentle, soft. No one had ever shown you such care and here you were, plotting out his murder.

But you simply had to do this. Freedom was only one dead body away for you. One more hit and you could finally wash your hands of this place, disappear to another court—perhaps one that would allow you to bathe in the sunlight for the rest of your days, something the citizens of Hewn City had never really experienced.

Kill Azriel.

Kill the shadowsinger and you'll be free to go.

Those had been Keir's exact words.

You had killed before. There was a time when your finger was covered in black lines, a new one added every time you didn't have enough money to pay the house fee or enough for food and had to borrow from Lydia. One every time you failed to perform for a client, no matter what they asked of you. But now you were down to one last mark.

One for the Shadowsinger.

One for Azriel.

You let out a sigh, sitting down at your vanity to brush your hair. Azriel was due to show up any moment now. Ever since that night at the party, he had been coming by at this time every single night. He would buy out all the nights Lydia would allow him to before showing up.

He never even made it seem like he expected sex on any given night. Sometimes the two of you would just cuddle in bed, whispering stories to each other about your lives. Sometimes he would come all tense and frustrated with whatever the High Lord had demanded of him. On those nights you would offer to give him a massage and listen to him complain about how much he hated his work. It seemed like the two of you had that in common, at the very least.

You hadn't made any attempts yet. You told yourself it was because you were planning out the best way to kill Azriel. Poison, knives, strangling. There were a multitude of ways to do it. But you knew deep down what the true reason was. You had grown fond of the Shadowsinger. You didn't want to kill him.

But your wants and needs had never really ever agreed with each other your whole life.

So here you were. Waiting for Azriel to come so you could poison him and be done with this Gods awful place. You wanted out of the labyrinth and unfortunately, this was the only way.

No matter how much you liked Azriel, he was the one standing in the way of your freedom.