#i just have not recovered from the ending
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'I love you, it's ruining my life' | Part ii
Joel Miller x f!reader
part one | part three
summary: The aftermath of your confession and how all it ended, for now.
w.c: 3,9k
warnings: angst and just angst. Perhaps grammar mistakes cuz even when I edited the chapter, I tend to be stupid.
a/n: As I promised, part 2 is here! Thank you so much for all the love you gave it to the first part, I'm really happy you loved it despite the messy writing. This part will not be the end, so a third part is already in the works to end this mini story since I had to talk about the aftermath of the events in part 1 and I couldn't fit everything here, you know. Part iii may have a time jump. Happy ending or sad ending for these two?? Make your bets after reading this part. Happy reading 💌
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
After what had just happened, you closed the door of your house with a slam, as if that would help you to silence the thump of your heart cracking with anguish. You didn't even get to savor the taste of Joel's lips on yours; they felt tainted by poison and treason creeping from the unfaithful actions of two people in a vulnerable state. You felt completely dirty by your actions; the tears streamed down your face, washing the warm hands of Joel over your checks away, with the salty rustling of his skin on yours.
After a few seconds, you recovered your composure, inhaling the smell of your soon-to-be ex-home. You looked around your living room; there were boxes containing all the memories you had made for the last eight years of your life inside, saved from the postmortem state. All the days, seconds, and years seemed illicit and foreign, and you could not stop crying.
You sat by the door, head on your knees, next to the window, stealing glimpses of a frantic Joel, who was now walking towards his car, getting away from you for real. Your heart broke even more because you knew that your confession didn’t matter and that you were destined to recall things you never did. He had made his choice. He was going to get married to another woman, and you weren’t going to witness such torture.
You stood from the ground towards your bedroom, still crying from the hope you had that he was going to love you that way, but he didn't, and you couldn't blame him. He was a good man, one who knew how to love but not how to receive, or perhaps he didn’t want it from you.
As you retreated to your bedroom, the weight of your actions bore down on you like a crushing wave. Each step felt heavier than the last, burdened by the knowledge that you had irreversibly altered the course of your life and Joel's.
The tears continued to flow unabated, leaving a trail of salty bitterness in their wake. You collapsed onto your bed, the sheets offering little solace from the storm raging within you.
When you made your way upstairs, you didn’t know that Joel turned back towards your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you again. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt gnawed at him like a relentless beast, tearing apart his insides with every breath. He couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with its weight.
Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn back, to run as far away from the mess he had created as possible. But something, perhaps a glimmer of hope or a desperate longing for closure, propelled him forward, urging him to face the consequences of his actions.
You loved him, and he loved you too. He had waited to hear those words for so many years, and now they felt like treason, and he felt like a villain.
With a trembling hand, he opened the door of this car and drove towards Tess’s house, not knowing this would be the last time you would be sleeping next to his house.
As Joel arrived at Tess's house, he was greeted by the warm glow of the porch light and the familiar scent of her perfume wafting through the air. But instead of feeling comforted by her presence, he couldn't shake the sense of unease that settled over him like a dark cloud.
As he stepped inside, Tess's worried expression immediately caught his attention. She approached him with a furrowed brow, her eyes searching his face for answers.
"Joel, I'm so glad you're here," she said, her voice tinged with concern.
“Of course, what seemed to be so urgent?”
"I...I called you because I needed to talk to you about something." She spoke.
Joel's heart skipped a beat as he listened to her words, a sense of foreboding settling over him like a heavy weight in his chest.
"What is it, Tess?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tess took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she spoke. "I couldn't shake this feeling, Joel. The thought of you spending the night after our wedding with...with her," she paused, unable to bring herself to say your name. "It just didn't sit right with me.” She paused, “We’re getting married tomorrow, and I just need to know that she won’t ruin our lives.”
“Why would she?” Joel asked, feeling an urgent desire to defend you.
Tess hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty as she struggled to find the right words. "I don't know, Joel. It's just that there's always been something between you two. Something I can't quite put my finger on."
Joel's heart sank at her words, the weight of guilt settling heavier upon him. He felt his heart exploding from the shame. He looked down at his hands, taking his time to gather all his courage and act like a man.
“I kissed her.” He confessed, and the silence sliced the skin of both. “I kissed her because I wanted to do it.”
As Joel uttered those words, a heavy silence descended upon the room, thick with the weight of his confession. Tess's eyes widened in shock, her hands trembling as she struggled to process the revelation.
The air hung heavy with tension as Joel's words echoed in the space between them, the truth of his betrayal leaving a bitter taste in the air. He could feel Tess's gaze boring into him, her expression a mix of disbelief and hurt.
"I... okay," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "We’ll pretend it didn’t happen, but she is not coming to the wedding, and you won’t see her again.”
Her attempts to mend an already broken trust were being stabbed with a knife.
"She won't because there won't be a wedding, Tess," Joel said, his voice filled with resignation. "I can't go through with it, not like this. Not when I know that I've already destroyed any chance we had at happiness. Not when I don’t know what I feel.”
Tess's eyes widened in shock at his words, her heart lurching painfully in her chest. She had never imagined that their love could unravel so completely and that the future they had planned together could crumble before her eyes.
“And you deserved a man who didn’t put his love for you in doubt when the woman he waited to love confessed her feelings to him,” Joel said.
Tears welled up in Tess's eyes as she looked at Joel, her voice trembling with emotion. "I...I don't know what to say," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the weight of their shattered dreams.
Joel reached out to her, his hand trembling as he gently brushed away her tears. "I'm sorry, Tess," he said, his voice thick with regret. "I never meant to hurt you. I just... don't know what I want anymore."
Tess felt a surge of anger rise within her at Joel's words, the pain of his betrayal still raw and fresh in her heart. But beneath the anger, there was also a sense of resignation, a realization that their love had been built on shaky ground from the start.
"And what about her?" Tess asked, her voice tinged with bitterness. "What about her? Do you know what you want with her?"
Joel looked away, unable to meet Tess's gaze. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know anything anymore."
Tess felt a lump form in her throat at Joel's words, and the next thing Joel felt was a slap on his cheek.
Joel felt a pang of sorrow shoot through his heart at Tess's action, as if all her resentment had consumed him with the hit of her hand on his skin. Tess turned away before he could even realize it. Withit tears streaming down her cheeks, Joel knew that he had lost her for good. And though it pained him to admit it, he knew deep down that he deserved every bit of her anger and resentment.
And his thoughts drifted to you. For him, it was a feeling in his heart at the thought of not having you in his life anymore.
He had broken the hearts of two women last night, and he couldn't bear that feeling.
Joel woke up at noon the next day. There wasn't going to be a wedding that day. He had told Tess he had kissed you because he felt it. There were tears, yelling, slurs screaming at him, and even a slap when it was completely deserved.
He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the events of the previous night playing out in his mind like a never-ending loop. The tears, the yelling, the slap—it all echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused.
Joel knew that there wasn't going to be a wedding that day and that the future he had envisioned with Tess had been shattered beyond repair. And as he lay there in the silence of his empty house, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of emptiness.
But even as his heart ached with longing, Joel knew that he had to face the consequences of his actions. He had hurt Tess, shattered her trust, and broken her heart, and he couldn't ignore the pain he had caused.
With a heavy sigh, Joel dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, the bitter taste doing little to chase away the bitter taste of regret that lingered in his mouth.
As he sipped his coffee, Joel knew he had a long road ahead of him. He had to find a way to make amends and earn back the trust and forgiveness of those he had wronged. And amidst it all, he vowed to do whatever it took to hold onto the love he felt for you and to fight for a future where you could be together, despite the odds stacked against them.
Joel had met Tess two years ago. At first, it was something cosmic and faster, like spending some time together after he had fixed her house, but then the pages between them started to get written and Joel began to spend less time with you. You tried to dismiss the gut-wrenching feeling consuming your void inside, but you promised him to take care of Sarah, while he had taken the chance to bet on love once again.
He deserved it, but you wanted to be the one, and you consumed yourself into your own pity just for one glimpse of his smile, hoping someday he would notice you that way.
It was two months later when Joel invited you to meet Tess for the first time. As you stepped into the cozy café where they had arranged to meet, a pang of bittersweet emotion tugged at your heart. You couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy that gnawed at you, knowing that Joel was introducing you to someone who could potentially become his wife someday.
Despite the ache in your chest, you plastered on your best smile, determined to be supportive for Joel's sake. After all, you had promised to always be there for him, no matter what.
As Tess walked in, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Joel, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. They were already sharing a secret language you would never get to understand. She was everything you weren't—beautiful, confident, and effortlessly charming. And as Joel introduced you to her, the weight of his hand on your shoulder felt like a silent reassurance, a reminder of the bond you shared as best friends.
You exchanged pleasantries with Tess, forcing yourself to push aside the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. You laughed at her jokes, engaged in small talk, and did your best to be the supportive friend that Joel needed you to be.
But beneath the façade of your smiles and laughter, your heart ached with a sense of loss. You were already grieving your friendship with Joel, as if you were feeling the distance growing between you both, as if his introduction of Tess marked the beginning of a new chapter—one where you would no longer be his sole confidante and companion.
And as you watched Joel and Tess interact, their laughter mingling in the air like a melody of happiness, you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to stand in her shoes—to be the one who captured Joel's heart and made him smile in that way.
But despite the ache in your chest, you pushed aside your own desires and fears, burying them beneath layers of friendship and loyalty. Because in that moment, all that mattered was Joel's happiness, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of your own.
You made sacrifices for the people you loved.
As Joel's thoughts drifted back to the present, he tried to recall all the times he missed the way you glanced at him full of love, and he didn’t even notice. Even when he was the one looking out beyond the simple glimpses,.
He felt like a fool. Joel sat in the quiet solitude of his house, contemplating the light of the sun creeping through the window. His thoughts drifted to you once again and again. He knew that he needed to come to talk to you later to make amends for the pain he had caused and perhaps even begin to write a new chapter in your relationship. But deep down, he also knew that he needed time to heal himself and mend the wounds of his own heart before he could hope to repair the damage he had done to yours.
Lost in his thoughts, Joel was jolted back to reality when the sound of the door opening caught his attention. Turning his head, he watched as Tommy stepped into the house, a tired Sarah sleeping in his arms. The pitying glance that Tommy shot him didn't go unnoticed, a silent reminder of the wreckage of his almost-married life.
Joel offered a weak smile in return, his heart heavy with the weight of his own guilt and remorse. He knew that he had let everyone down—Tess, you, and even himself—and he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that hung over him like a dark cloud.
But as he watched Tommy and Sarah disappear into the other room, Joel knew that he couldn't wallow in self-pity forever. He had to find a way to pick up the pieces of his broken life and move forward, even if the road ahead seemed daunting and uncertain.
Lost in his thoughts, Joel didn't notice when Tommy returned to the living room, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. "Hey, Joel, why didn't you tell me?" Tommy asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Joel blinked, snapping out of his reverie as he turned to face Tommy. "Tell you what?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Why didn't you tell me that “bubu” was moving out?" Tommy clarified; his tone was laced with concern. "I saw the moving truck leaving.
Joel's heart sank at Tommy's words, a wave of realization washing over him. He remembered now—the conversation from last night, your tearful confession that you were leaving for good. "She couldn’t be serious," he had whispered, the words heavy with disbelief and desperation.
Without another word, Joel stepped away from the couch, his movements heavy with purpose as he made his way towards the door. Ignoring Tommy's calls behind him, he pushed open the door and stepped outside, only to be met with the emptiness of your house next door.
The sight of your empty home, stripped bare of all its memories, hit Joel like a punch to the gut. The realization that you were truly gone, that he had let you slip through his fingers without a fight, left him feeling hollow and alone.
With a heavy heart, Joel sank to his knees on the doorstep, the weight of his regrets crushing him beneath their unbearable burden. And as he gazed up at the empty windows of your house, he couldn't help but wonder if he had lost you forever.
It was a warm summer afternoon when Sarah said her first word. You, Joel, and Sarah were lounging in the living room, playing with her favorite toys.
As Sarah babbled and cooed, her tiny hands reaching out to grasp at the colorful shapes before her, you couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and wonder wash over you. Watching her grow and learn had become a highlight of your days, a bright spot in an otherwise ordinary existence.
“Bubu”
Joel's face lit up with pride and joy as he scooped up his daughter, a mixture of awe and amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Did she just say her first word?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder.
You couldn't help but laugh at Joel's playful jealousy, knowing that he was only teasing. "Oh my god, baby!" you cooed, reaching out to gently stroke Sarah's soft cheek. "You're just too clever for your own good, aren't you?"
"Bubu," Sarah repeated, her eyes sparkling with innocence as she reached out towards you, her chubby fingers grasping at the air.
"I can't believe she didn't say 'father' first," Joel joked, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
You chuckled at Joel's comment, feeling a surge of warmth fill your heart at the playful banter between father and daughter. "Don't be jealous, Joel," you teased, giving him a gentle nudge. "I'm 'Bubu'—that's a tough title to beat!"
And as Sarah continued to babble and coo, her laughter filling the room with its infectious joy, you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging there.
From that moment on, "Bubu" became your nickname, a term of endearment that Joel had bestowed upon you in honor of Sarah's first word.
And though the years had passed since that day and Sarah had long outgrown her baby talk, the nickname had stuck. It had become a symbol of the bond you shared with Joel and her, a reminder of the love and affection that had blossomed between you over the years.
Back in the present, Joel sat alone in his bedroom, the weight of his regrets heavy on his shoulders. The memories of the events that had unfolded in recent days weighed heavily on his mind, filling him with a sense of profound sorrow and remorse.
As he sat in the quiet solitude of his living room, Joel couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to permeate the air around him. The absence of your presence in his life had already left a void that seemed impossible to fill, a gaping wound that refused to heal.
And your letter on his hands weighs like the steam of a rose, making his hands bleed as the words written on it punctuate deep wounds in them.
“Joel,
As I sit down to write this letter, my heart feels heavy with the weight of everything that has happened between us. There are so many words I want to say and so many apologies I want to offer, but I know that mere words can never truly express the depth of my regret and remorse.
I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you and that every choice I made was made out of fear and confusion. But I know that my actions have caused you pain too, and for that, I am truly sorry.
I know that things between us may never be the same again and that the trust we once shared may be irreparably damaged. But I need time and space to heal and to find a way to live my life away from you.
I want you to know that I love you, Joel, more than words could ever express. You have been my rock, my confidant, and my closest friend, and the thought of losing you fills me with a pain that is almost too much to bear. My biggest expression of love is letting you go.
Please know that I will always cherish the memories we shared together, the laughter, the tears, and the moments of joy and sorrow that we experienced side by side. And no matter what the future may hold, those memories will always hold a special place in my heart.
I hope that one day we will be able to look back on this time with a sense of gratitude, knowing that it was the challenges we faced together that ultimately brought us closer. Until then, know that you are always in my thoughts, in my heart, and in my prayers. And know that no matter what happens, I will always love you, now and forever.
Have a wonderful wedding and a happy marriage with Tess. I hope you know you deserve to be loved.
I’ll miss you and Sarah so much."
With all my love,
Bubu or you can just call me by my real name now.
As Joel read the words of your letter, each sentence pierced his heart like a dagger, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal. The weight of your words pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket, leaving him feeling numb and hollow inside.
He hadn’t gotten married, and you thought he had. You left thinking he got married to another woman.
The realization that you were truly gone, that you had made the agonizing decision to leave him behind, sent a wave of despair crashing over him. He felt as though the ground had been pulled out from beneath him, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty and pain.
Tears welled up in Joel's eyes as he read the final lines of your letter, your words of farewell echoing in his mind like a haunting refrain. The emptiness of your absence loomed large in the room, a stark reminder of all that he had lost.
With trembling hands, Joel clutched the letter to his chest, as if holding onto it could somehow keep you from slipping away from him completely. But deep down, he knew that no amount of pleading or begging could change your mind, that you had made your decision, and there was nothing he could do to change it for now.
You were truly the biggest loss of his life; there was too much to grieve and yet so much to hold onto. He was going to go back for you, but he had to heal that part of him that pushed you away from him and let you find yourself before he could come back into your life again.
.......
I'm tagging people who asked me and those who asked for a part 2, if you want to be removed you can tell me 💌
💌 taggs: @immywonderdefender @sarahhxx03 @powellssaturn @ifall4dilfs @harriedandharassed @skysmiller
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#joel miller series#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller imagine#joel miller angst#tlou fanfiction#joel the last of us#joel x reader#Joel Miller#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal
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The Night the High Lord Fell: Rhysand x Reader
Warnings: Angst, Lots of tears, Suggestive, 18+
***
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. You ran from your room, darting through the halls and down the stairs of the townhouse. Dread settled over you as you ran, heading towards the darkness pooling in the living room.
Your heart broke at the sight in front of you. Rhys was kneeling in the middle of the room, his head buried in his hands. Shadows twirled around him, the floor a mass of darkest night. You hurried to his side, slamming your knees into the ground as you slid next to him. You wrapped your arms tightly around his shaking body, holding your oldest friend as close as you could.
“I’m here, i’m here. I’m here, Rhys.” You murmured over and over, one hand coming to stroke his hair. He sunk into your hold, the only sign that he even knew you were there. You continued to whisper that you were with him, that he was safe. This was a routine the two of had done since you were young. One comforting the other, grounding them and reminding them that they weren’t alone.
Though you had never seen him this bad.
You replayed the events leading up to today in your head, trying to figure out what could have upset him like this. He hadn’t been the same since he came back from Under the Mountain, but no one expected him to be. Not after all he had endured down there, ending with finding his mate-
Her wedding.
Feyre was to be married today. Realization shuddered through you, hot and fast. She married Tamlin.
She rejected Rhys.
You knew that was her own choice, that a mating bond didn’t necessarily have to be followed. You just never expected her to not be called to it. Rhys had gone to the wedding, intent on “rescuing” her. Clearly, she had not wanted to be rescued.
You saw movement out of the corner of your eye, turning slightly to see Cassian and Azriel standing in the entry. You shook your head slightly, a sign to let them know he needed to be alone. Well, aside from you. The two Illyrians nodded and retreated back, presumably to pass the information on to Amren and Mor. Something had happened with Rhys, but you had it under control. You would debrief them later.
You lost track of how long you sat there, holding your friend and whispering familiar securities. Eventually the swirling darkness around you began shrinking, called back in to its master. You stayed with Rhys until late in the night, never moving from his side. As the early rays of dawn began peaking over the horizon, he finally raised his head from his hands and looked at you.
Your heart ached at the pain on his face.
“She was happy.” He said, voice hoarse from hours of silence. “She is thriving down there. I expected to find her still struggling, I expected Tamlin to have ignored her needs, I-I-I.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I was wrong.” You said nothing, simply tucking his head against your shoulder and resuming the stroking of his hair. Wet tears slid onto your neck, the only warning you got before his body started shaking with sobs. You held him tighter, rocking slightly. You thought about Tamlin, about how Under the Mountain must have changed him as well. You were there when he and Rhys were friends, and you were there when it was all torn apart. You didn’t think he was inherently bad, but his upbringing had certainly been no help. You still struggled to see how anyone could choose him over Rhys.
“You won’t have to handle this alone, Rhys. I’m here,” you soothed, trying to think of anything that would help. You did not know the pain of a broken mating bond, but you knew it would take a long time for him to recover from this.
And you would be by his side every step of the way.
***
Morning had fully come by the time you convinced Rhys to stand up, helping him up to his room. You drew him a bath and pushed him into it, forcing him to wash away the physical reminders of the day. You washed his hair carefully, fingers moving delicately across his scalp. You remembered his mother doing this to you when you were young, how calm you would feel when she did.
You dried him off and helped him out of the bath, handing him the towel before moving to prepare his bed. You kept the drapes drawn tight, all light blocked from the room. This was not the first time you had taken care of Rhys like this, but it was certainly the worst. You knew something in his soul had been torn out, a pain you couldn’t even begin to imagine.
You guided him into bed, not bothering to try to get him to dress. You knew him too well to waste your time on that. You tucked the covers gently around him, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. His eyes were empty, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. You felt a pang in your heart at the shell of your friend, seeing him in such a state. You grabbed the sleeping draught you had requested Madja bring, tilting it down his throat. He gave no protest at the sweet-tasting liquid.
You waited by his side until the draught took, watching his eyes close and his body finally relax into sleep. You sat there for a while longer after, holding his hand and observing him. Only when you had convinced yourself he was peacefully asleep and would stay that way did you stand and leave. You closed the door gently behind you, not at all surprised to find Mor waiting on the other side.
“How is he?” She asked, biting the tip of a nail in worry. You shook your head, the tears that you had been holding back escaping.
“I’ve never seen him in such a state,” you cried, wrapping your arms around yourself. Mor tugged you close, running her hand through your hair the same way you had done to Rhys. She walked you to your room, only a door down from his.
“We will get him through this. You don’t have to handle his pain on your own,” she said, making you sit on your bed.
“I don’t see how to get him out of this. He’s completely broken, Mor. The combination of all that he went through Under the Mountain and this, back to back?” A shudder ran through you. “How does one survive all that?” You felt sick even thinking about all Rhys had endured.
Mor brought you a change of clothes, gathering your hands into hers. “We have to figure out a way, don’t we? We can’t allow him to suffer in this forever.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead, giving your hands a squeeze. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
You watched as she left the room, insisting that you try to rest. She was off to have the kitchen prepare your favorite meal and deliver it, a subtle nudge that you should eat. You looked down at the clothes she had brought you, her words playing over and over in your mind.
“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
But what if you can’t?
***
The next day wasn’t much better. Nor was the next. Or the one after. Certainly not the one after that.
Weeks had gone by of you trying everything you could to get through to Rhys. He barely left his bed, survived off a liquid diet that you spooned into his mouth, and never spoke a word. He was wasting away in front of your eyes, both physically and mentally.
You weren’t doing much better.
You spent all your time attempting to get through to him. After you had given him his now-nightly sleeping draught you collapsed into your bed, crying until your face was raw. The tears had begun to slow, your body losing even the energy for that. You were becoming your own shell in your desperate attempt to heal Rhys.
A knock sounded at your door. You weren’t even sure you had said “Come in,” but the door opened and Mor entered. She tsked at the state of you, carrying over a tray of food and sitting on the edge of your bed.
“Now this won’t do,” she mused, observing the rumpled sheets and your dirty hair. “You can’t help him if you’re working yourself to death!” You turned your head and bleakly opened one eye.
“I don’t know how to help him.”
“You have to help yourself first. Here, let me draw you a bath and get you cleaned up. Then we will eat and devise a new plan. Staying in that stuffy room with him all day isn’t doing either of you any good.”
You couldn’t argue with her, or maybe you just didn’t have the energy to try, so you allowed her to pull you to the bathroom and force you into the large tub. She only left after you insisted that you were able to wash yourself, dropping the sponge into the water with a huff.
When you had finished she had a warm towel ready for you, along with clean pajamas. “I will not have my two closest family members waste away into nothingness.” She stated as you got dressed, pushing the tray of food towards you. You knew better than to argue, sitting on your bed and reaching for a bread roll. You hummed at the taste, suddenly realizing how long it had been since you had a hot meal.
“Now, let’s talk,” Mor began, clapping her hands together. “Tomorrow you have to get him up and moving. He needs to go outside.” You nodded in agreement, already feeling better from bathing and eating. Gods knew getting outside would be good for you too.
“Outside. I can do that,” you agreed, grabbing another roll as you thought of how to get him out of bed tomorrow.
***
“Outside” was not as easy as it had seemed.
You strode into Rhys’ room that morning full of renewed purpose, flinging the drapes open wide and letting in the sun. You had expected him to protest in some way, to grumble at you or pull the blankets over his head.
Instead he just lay there, as unmoving as ever.
You sighed, walking over to the edge of his bed. “Come on, Rhys. We are going to go outside. Get some fresh air. Doesn’t that sound nice?” You should be used to his lack of response by now, no better than talking to a corpse. You pulled the blankets from his body, grabbing onto his hands. You tugged him up to sit, sliding his legs off the edge of the bed. “Okay Rhys, you have to help me here,” you groaned, hoisting him up to stand.
Before immediately dropping him to floor.
You gave a shout of alarm, quickly bending down to make sure he was okay. After ensuring there was no damage down, you stood up and walked for the door, telling him you’d be back shortly. You knew Cassian and Azriel had been staying at the townhouse ever since Rhys came back, too worried to reside elsewhere. You knocked on Azriel’s door, pacing while you waited for him to answer.
“Is everything okay?” He asked when he did, taking in your agitated form.
“Yes! Well, no. I mean, he’s okay, but, uh, I..” You looked down at the ground. “I may have dropped him on the floor.” Silence came from the Shadowsinger.
Followed by a sharp laugh. “You dropped him?” You looked up at him, crossing your arms defensively in front of you.
“I was trying to get him to go outside. I need your help. He can’t stay in that bed forever.” Any ounce of humor fell from Azriel’s face as he gave a nod of agreement.
“Take me to him.”
He followed you back down to Rhys’ room, taking a look at the crumpled form of his High Lord on the ground. He sighed, picking him up with ease. “Where do you want him?”
“In the bath, for now. We will battle dressing him and getting him out later.” Azriel abided, taking Rhys into the large bathing room. You followed closely behind, grabbing a set of clothes for him as you went. Between the two of you, you got Rhys into the tub and washed. Getting him out was a bit more difficult, his body slippery from the water. Azriel ended up using his shadows to haul him out, using them to keep him standing as well. You dried and dressed him quickly, unsure how much of this he was even noticing.
You looked over him with a frown. Clearly a walk would not be happening today, but you still needed to get him out. You sighed, sidling up next to him and throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Call your shadows,” you instructed Azriel, bracing yourself to take the weight of Rhys. Azriel looked half-inclined to argue before thinking better of it, pulling his shadows back from Rhys. You groaned under the dead weight, but managed to hold the two of you up. “Come on, Rhys. Walk with me to the balcony. Can you do that?” You weren’t sure he even heard you anymore, or if he had completely sunk into himself. You nudged him in the direction of the doors, taking a step.
He didn’t react.
Azriel silently took up the spot on his other side, helping you half-carry Rhys out to the balcony. You set him down on a chair, making sure he was steady before letting go. You gave Azriel a small smile, appreciative of his help. “I’ll call for you if I need your assistance again, okay?” He nodded once at the dismissal before slipping from the room, leaving you and Rhys alone on the balcony.
You pulled a second chair over to his, sitting facing him. You tucked one of his hands in yours, thumbs running over the soft skin there. “I was thinking about your mother the other day,” you began, focusing on the once strong hand in yours. “Remember when she caught us preparing that sugar trap for your sister?” You gave a small laugh, recalling how amused she had been, trying to put on an angry front. She had found the two of you covered head to toe in powdered sugar, sugar that was supposed to explode all over his sister. “She was always too nice to us, don’t you think? Washing us up in the bath after we coating her house in that powder. Making us sugar cookies once we were all clean, our only punishment that we had to share with your sister.” You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. “I miss them, Rhys.” Emotion clogged your throat, chest becoming tight. You continued rubbing your thumbs in soothing circles on his hand, still focused on it. “I miss you,” you whispered out, your voice not strong enough for anything louder.
Gods, you missed him.
“I know what happened to you has been horrible. I can’t even begin to imagine all you went through Under the Mountain, only to have it followed up with a broken mating bond.” Tears slid down your cheeks. “You deserve all the time to heal that you need, I know that. It’s selfish of me, I know, to wish that you were okay again. You need time to recover from it all.” You sniffed, tears coming faster. “I just miss you so much, Rhys. I don’t know what to do anymore. You were gone for fifty years, disappearing right under our noses. We barely got a goodbye.” Sobs were shaking your body now, the memory of Rhys’ warning flooding your head before all communication was lost. “Then you come back, mated to the girl who saved you. A true match, some would say. None of us thought she’d find happiness elsewhere, you know that. You go to rescue her, your fairytale romance, only to find that she didn’t need rescued.” You gave a cold laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You found her thriving and happy in the arms of another, in the arms of your enemy. Your mate, who couldn’t be bothered with you. How cruel is that?” Hot anger flared through you at the injustice of it all. You knew Feyre deserved to be happy just as much as Rhys did, but you couldn’t help to wish that she hadn’t found happiness like that. “You come back here, a shell of yourself. Don’t you see, Rhys?” Your voice grew quiet. “You came back to me. You’ve always come back to me.” You paused the massaging of his hand, going silent for a moment.
“My heart is yours. I would give it up a thousand times over for you to live happily with the one your soul was mated to, if she had wanted that. Maybe…maybe there’s a reason she didn’t want it. More than just her love for Tamlin.” Tears fell onto his hand, one thumb moving to swipe them away. “Maybe the cauldron realized it made a mistake,” you muttered, refusing to look up at him. Not that he would react to anything you said, you weren’t even sure he could hear you. Perhaps that’s why you now felt able to tell him the truth, to tell him how you truly feel. “I love you, Rhys. I’ve loved you for a long time now. I know you wanted a mate, that you held out for the soul cauldron-bound to yours. When you found her, I accepted that was it. I would move to the side, no longer your Second both in court and in your life. And that was okay. Anything to see you happy was worth it.” Your tears slowed, as if putting the truth out there was healing the brokenness inside of you. “But what now, Rhys? You are wasting away into nothingness, and I don’t know what to do. I need you to come back. Please. Come back to me, one last time.” You slowly raised his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before letting go.
Except the hand did not drop.
Instead, it curled around one of yours.
Your head shot up in alarm, eyes wide as you saw Rhys looking at you. Truly looking at you. His eyes were shiny with tears of his own, his hand locked tight around yours. As if he was scared that if he let go you’d bolt and never be seen again.
“Is it true?” He asked, voice hoarse. “You love me?” You bit your lip nervously, nodding slowly. Was it too much? You hadn’t realized he was listening, you should’ve looked up sooner, how could you dump all that on hi-
Your thoughts were interrupted by him pulling you forcefully into his lap, wrapping his arms tight around you. “Oh, sweet angel,” he murmured into your hair, arms strong around you. You slowly moved to twine your arms around his neck, holding him just as tight. “I never thought you’d feel the same.”
Your head shot up and you looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “What?” Rhys laughed, a sound so joyful you couldn’t help the smile the ticked at the corners of your mouth. He raised one hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face lovingly.
“I’ve been in love with you for ages. I assumed you didn’t feel the same, and I didn’t wish to ruin what we had. While I did want a mate, I used that excuse as more of a front than a real reason. It was never about who my mate was.” He smiled at you. “It was always about you.”
You continued to stare at him in shock, your mind unable to believe what he was saying. All this time, all this time, you both wanted each other. You didn’t realize you were crying again until his eyes widened in alarm, brushing the tears away from your cheeks with his hands. “Hey, don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you long ago, shouldn’t I?” You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up through you, pure disbelief at the situation.
“We have been fools,” you said, smiling at him. “Sad, poor fools.” He laughed with you, pressing his forehead to yours.
“Perhaps we have been. I’m willing to forgive our past mistakes if you promise to stand by my side until the end of our days. If you will have me.” You nodded against him, tears of joy falling from your eyes. He smiled, before dropping his voice ever so slightly. “May I kiss you?”
You gave an answering smile, curling your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. “You may.”
Rhys’ lips met yours a little uncertainly, as if he was scared to come on too strong. You flattened one palm against the back of his neck, pushing him closer to you. He took that as a sign to abandon all caution, one hand wrapping tight around your waist while the other held your face to his. He kissed you with a passion you had never experienced, the feeling of a thousand suns bursting inside of you. You moaned slightly against his kiss, his fingers digging into your waist at the sound. This was where you were meant to be, this was what it had all been for.
Rhys’ hand trailed down your body, stopping on the curve of your thigh. He hoisted your legs up and over him, making you straddle his body. You gasped at the feeling of him under you, his hips coming up to roll against yours. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt, teasing the skin there. You were seconds away from abandoning all rational thought and allowing him to take you right here when a low cough sounded from the doorway. You shot back from Rhys, eyes darting to the intruder. Rhys only chuckled, hand trailing up and down your body.
Azriel.
“I just came to check everything was okay, but I see you’ve got it under control.” He said, eyes sparkling with a million plans to tease you for this. You glared at him, thoughts muddled by Rhys pressing soft kisses to your neck.
“Yes, Azriel, everything is under control. Now if you’d leave us, I have some rather important matters to attend to,” Rhys said, biting your skin in between words. Azriel nodded, a smile ghosting his lips as he disappeared from view.
And attend to those matters he did.
***
Happy Mother’s Day to any moms I have following me!! 🫶🏻 And Happy Sunday to everyone else haha. I hope you guys liked this one!!
#acotar x reader#rhys x reader#rhysand x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#rhysand x y/n#rhysand x you#rhys x y/n#rhys x you#the night the high lord fell#azrielsdoves 1k celebration
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Freeuse Gahyeon. Sorry I can't be more eloquent, I just fucking need her getting fucked whenever-wherever.
You are not that type of boy who consider himself a "god in the bed" or similar, sure, you had some good perfomance, but you never expected to brainrot someone after fucking her too good, especially if that someone was an idol.
Now, for idols from less famous group is easier to date and have fun with less pubblic pression; and the situation of dreamcatcher was just perfect for that: big popularity overseas and way less in their country. No wonder that Gahyeon was so chill about approaching you in the club.
Probably the emotion of having sex with an artist you like made you overperform, keeping her awake all night, dicking her down until the first lights of the morning hit her body completely covered in sweat and your cum. So in the end she stayed at your home to sleep.
You didn't expect, when you woke up, to find her in the kitchen, making your breakfast still naked. "Good afternoon, Oppa, come eat something, you need to recover after last night", she said kindly, placing the food on the table. You were about to take the first bite when you felt your boxer being pulled down.
"Good morning to you too", she spoke to your shaft, kissing it passionately before engulfing it in her mouth. After cumming so much times last night, you had to grab the table to contain yourself, before eventually shooting your seed in her throat.
"Mmm, delicious, exactly like yesterday", she commented, resting her head on your thighs while looking at you with crazy and lustful eyes. Eventually she got dressed and left your house, but not before being sure her number was saved in your phone.
"Call me when you need to fuck. Or even when you want to fap. Or when if you're bored. I'm always ready to take that dick", she warned you, groping your genitals a last time and giving you a kiss on the cheek, before disappearing in the elevator.
Having to call someone everytime you were horny seemed like a burden, but why do not give it try? And that's exactly what you did, sending her a text two days later. "Oh my good, finally. I'm on my way", she texted you back.
And as if by magic, ten minutes later she was in front of your door, wearing just clothes quick to remove: an adherent t-shirt, enhancing her big boobs, a real short skirt, that was showing her booty cheeks, and flip-flop a, easy to kick away.
But the most important detail, that would have been constant in all your future meeting, was the had not on any bra or panty. You had just to lift her skirt and push it in whatever hole you preferred that time.
"Use me like a slut, Oppa, this body is your toy", she reminded you, shaking happily your ass, ready to take your full lenght. And you did: pushing roughly your fat cock in the ass of that hungry slut, ready to service you.
You were just ravaging her ass and she was loving every moment of it, drooling with her mouth open in the most nasty face. "Fuck me, this cock owns me, every single part of me is yours", she was screaming feeling your dick rearranging her guts.
And they way her holes always clenched so tightly around you, milking you out, not even a single drop could be wasted. But it doesn't matter if you had just finished to fuck her, she was immediately to go again, everything to have your cock inside.
Sometimes you were too tired to do anything, so you just asked her to whorship your member. From such a simple request she would go completely crazy: stroking your cock so fast that you had to stop her because your brain was not able to process so much pleasure.
Then she would have sucked your cock, and you could swear that now your dick was more inside her that in your underwear; the following step would have been a titjob, making the space between all boobs all sticky.
And in the end her favorite part: bouncing on your cock until her pussy would take the form of your girth. Letting you cum so much inside her that you start to think she has a breeding kink, because every time her tummy is so full.
#kpop smut#kpop thoughts#girl group smut#kpop x male reader#girl groups x male reader#dreamcatcher x male reader#dreamcatcher smut#dreamcatcher gahyeon#gahyeon smut#gahyeon x male reader
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omg I've been waiting to send skz request 🙇🏻♀️ I'm an engene but CHRISTOPHER BANG is so hot so how about chris being your long time bff who you didn't have a relationship with but he is secretly in love with you for a long time and your boyfriend who was an ass cheats on you and breaks your heart and you go to stay with Chris for sometime to have his comfort and the loving gentleman he is he makes you feel so much better with little gifts and cuddles which ends up in you starting to want him sexually and who is he to say no to fucking you .. that's all ^_^ thanks
i'm an engene, but i'm also a stay so yes, this man is one of the hottest but kind and gentleman i could have ever seen, and he makes me feel so delulu like i want him to be my boyfriend🫠
pairing: bestfriend! bang chan x female! reader.
genre: angst, smut.
warnings: infidelity, breakup, mention of crying, protected sex, and idk. english is not my first language so there may be grammal or spelling errors. I wrote this without editing or proofreading, I hope it's not that bad.
words: 1.8K
--
all your friends had warned you; your boyfriend was a womanizer. but of course, you would never have imagined it while he continued to manipulate and deceive you with the nice words and romantic outings that you had, until he broke your heart by cheating on you with your cousin. so typical. years of relationship thrown away and you couldn't even kick him out of the apartment you shared because the bastard had made you abandon everything about yourself and move in with him, who was the owner of the place. so with a broken heart and your suitcase, you moved to your best friend who welcomed you with open arms. it really wasn't that easy, at first you just wanted to stay for a while until things "sorted out" but chan had told you that he would let you live with him as long as you wanted as long as you left your useless boyfriend. you weren't angry with him for that condition, in fact, you were grateful for it because you knew that the moment you decided to accept "taking some time" with your boyfriend, he would find a way to manipulate you into getting back with him at some point. so now there you were, single, depressed and with a broken heart, but in good company living with your best friend of a lifetime.
"how do you feel?"
that question made you come out of your own thoughts as you watched the leaves from the trees slowly fall through the window. you had been there for a couple of days, in your pajamas and with your mind distracted from everything, and chan couldn't do anything but accompany you so that you don't feel alone, so every time he had the opportunity to get close to you and be with you, took advantage of it to bring you gifts like candy or flowers, which he knew weren't much but your eyes recovered a little of that shine that he liked so much in you.
"i'm not okay, but I don't feel like I'm dying either. that's good, right?" you grimaced, trying to force a smile. he nodded and approached you, stroking your hair slowly.
"you'll see that soon it will stop hurting" were simple words but you felt quite comforted because he always had the right way of saying things to make you feel a little better. "And soon you will find someone who knows how to value you as you deserve." and he was talking about himself, because yes, your best friend was completely in love with you even before you started dating the damn guy who had dared to break your heart.
a few weeks later, you and chan were together on the couch watching a stupid romantic movie that had brought back many memories of your relationship and you had ended up crying uncontrollably in chan's embrace while he stroked your hair waiting for you to calm down. you were feeling stupid for crying after so much time, but you couldn't help it, you thought you were fine but it still hurt knowing that you had lost so much time and so much of yourself for an idiot who hurt you.
"i'm sorry" you just said between sobs and you felt him squeeze you tighter in his arms.
"why are you apologizing silly? It's okay to cry, you have to let it all out. anyway, I love having you in my arms" as he held you in his arms, you could feel how fast his heartbeat was and for some reason that made your heart match as a shiver ran down your spine after feeling his warm hands caressing your arms.
you tried with everything in you not to faint when chan came out of the bathroom with only a pair of sweatpants and no shirt and entered his room, where you were lying on his bed killing some time. it wasn't the first time you saw your friend without shirt, but for some reason lately it made you feel shy and intimidated and also, it awakened something that you thought was forbidden within you. he was your best friend, it didn't feel right to feel that he turned you on like that, but you couldn't blame yourself either, the guy was fucking hot, attractive and gentlemanly, everything a woman needed. he put the wet towel aside and fell on the bed next to you and only looked for the TV control when he noticed that you were focused on something else.
"y/n, pass me the controller that's on the nightstand next to you" you were so focused on your own thoughts looking at the screen of your phone, trying not to look at him and completely ignore his arm lightly brushing your body that was trying to surreptitiously get away from him, so you didn't listen to what he told you. chan rolled his eyes at you when you ignored him and leaned over you to reach for what he wanted himself.
"w-what are you doing?" your question came out with a gasp. that action took you by surprise, his heavy body positioning itself over yours and his face just a few centimeters from yours as he leaned further to reach the control.
"just taking what I asked for and you didn't give me" he moved the device in front of your face, but still staying in that position leaning over you. he looked at your blushing face and raised an eyebrow slightly. "what are you thinking? If you want something from me, you just have to ask" he winked at you playfully and let out a laugh. your heart beat rapidly and your thighs clenched involuntarily. he was so hot and attractive that every little action he did left you speechless. you couldn't waste that moment.
“i want you to-” you stopped when he stopped laughing and looked at you seriously, not expecting you to say anything.
“what do you want, y/n?” he asked. deep inside of him, desire began to grow when he was almost one hundred percent sure of what you were about to say just by seeing your eyes, but he needed to hear it come from your lips. “say it, y/n.”
"i want to fuck" those words came out of you almost rushed and chan wanted to jump for joy at finally hearing you say it, but he restrained himself and looked at you intently.
"want me to fuck you?" you nodded quickly. "are you sure?" he insisted.
"damn chan, I'm more than sure" you lifted your body and your face moved closer to his, almost touching his lips. "i have never been so sure in my life."
"great, because I've been waiting this for years" then he just crushed his lips against yours and kissed you with all the desire that he had been building up inside for so long.
he pushed your body against the bed and quickly removed your shirt revealing your body that was naked and covered by just your skimpy underwear. he looked at your body with lustful eyes, engraving your image in his mind for life and you blushed a little as you felt exposed, but not ashamed because you knew you could trust him and that he would never judge you.
"holy shit, you're so hot" his lips attacked yours again and you hugged his broad shoulders almost hanging on to him. he rested his hand on your abdomen for a few moments and then slowly went down until he slipped inside your underwear. you moaned into his mouth when his fingers touched your pussy and he noticed how wet you were. "you want this?"
"more than you can imagine, so please fuck me now" you asked desperately, removing your own underwear before he gave you an answer. chan let out a low laugh, lightly biting his lower lip and removed the clothes he was wearing.
"how could i say no if you're asking me like that?" after opening the drawer of the nightstand next to you, he took a condom and when he opened it and slid it on his cock calmly, you felt your nerves and the wetness between your legs increase.
"chan, please stop taking your time" you whined, pulling his body against yours as he positioned himself between your legs. he looked at you for a moment and laughing, kissed your forehead, then holding your body he pressed it to the headboard.
“it's okay, baby, don't exasperate” his cock lined up at your entrance and slid into you causing you both to moan at the same time, him holding you by the waist and you holding on to his shoulders as your knees bent upwards.
"come on chan, move" you asked, you were desperate for him to do something more than just be inside you. he nodded, removing your body from the headboard and pressed it to the mattress, he moved his hips taking a tortuous rhythm. you felt a little dizzy and your head fell against the pillow as your eyes closed. "damn, it feels good" you couldn't believe that this was happening, that your best friend of so many years was fucking you and you were enjoying it so much. that would never have crossed your mind.
"you like it?" his lips wrapped around your neck, sucking on that spot that made you moan and he continued penetrating you, this time harder and deeper making your head spin while you moved your hips against him matching his pace. you felt in agony as his lips were on you and his cock moved in and out of your pussy at an increasingly faster pace that at some point shook your body violently, your nails digging into his shoulders causing chan to moan and your lips desperately searching for his.
"chan, I'm going to cum- ah-" you moaned against his lips and he nodded quickly. everything was happening so fast but you didn't care because you knew it wouldn't be the only time.
"i was dying to fuck you" he moaned as he continued pushing against you and bringing his hand between both of your bodies, applying pressure to your clit to accelerate your orgasm. "but i was also dying to tell you that i like you and that i want you to stop crying over that damn idiot and be mine, that i will make you the happiest woman in the world."
"chan!" you whimpered as his fingers on your sensitive clit sped up to the point where you were about to cum hard. "i'm cumming!"
"do it, cum with me" his thrusts were harder and you reached orgasm at the same time, feeling your bodies relax and fall exhausted on the bed with your breathing accelerated. a small pause formed between you while you could only hear your breathing and feel the soft caresses of your hands on each other's bodies. "i really like you a lot, y/n, i always liked you and i'm sorry for telling you this and now, but I'm really glad that you broke up with that bastard and are living here with me" his chest went up and down as he recovered from his orgasm. your head was still in the clouds, you knew that his words had a strong weight that you would later have to process, but for now you just let out a laugh that he found reassuring and he hugged you around the waist, getting up from the bed and taking you to the bathroom to take a shower again but this time with you.
send me request for stray kids, zb1 and enhypen
#stray kids scenarios#stray kids smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#bang chan#bang chan scenarios#bang chan smut#bang chan imagines
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i played owen carvour in a production of spies in sydney, and tcb i have a confession i added a line. in the man behind the curtain reveal, owen says "if it hadn't been for my spot on aim and interest in foreign policy, i might have been an actor." i had about a month between application and audition and i was sitting on the first paragraph for so long and i got a bit bored. so i added "and you know, being blackmailed by the english" to that list. it added this manic, pained spark to the moment. fuel for the fire.
i dont know what joey thinks about owens history, but i gave him a timeline. born 1926 (nov 14th. scorpio bitch.), his fine family home destroyed in the Blitz, he enlists for some income (and maybe to escape home) at 17 in 1943, too young, but he's slick and clever enough to pass as an adult. 1945, right before the end of the war, he sees something he shouldnt have. the higher ups in a below the table deal that could ruin a lot of rich and powerful peoples lives if it reaches the wrong hands. owen carvours hands were the wrong hands. but he's a remarkable soldier, he's quick, he's a master tactician, and he's Good At Lying. hes useful. so instead of taking him out. someone says "hey kid. howd you like to be a secret agent. -also if you say no you'll die-" no choice. he'll continue to live at the behest of a governments will.
he doesnt Like being a spy, but its not the worst thing in the world. he likes the more decadent aspects, certainly, and deception not only comes naturally, but brings a sort of thrill.
he doesn't like being a spy until he meets curt mega. this part of his history is a bit blurry, but i imagine them meeting sometime near 1952 (because of the song Video Killed The Radio Star), surely on the job somewhere. curt makes spying fun. and curt is the first real thing owen has had reliably since 1943. he doesnt change, hes delightfully predictable, and despite him appearing somewhat less intelligent than owen, he has this knack for seeing straight through to owens heart. curt is daring, where owen might be intially more cautious. curt has the guts to get the two of them *into* situations, where owen has the tactician skill to get them *out*.
i think owen got comfortable. tragically, the two of them were so in sync, so reliant on each other, that he didnt see the fall coming at all.
it wasnt the fall that hurt. it was watching curt walk away. he'd always thought that if this were to happen, theyd go down together.
CHIMERA found him in the rubble, a boy who'd always been controlled, who'd never really got a chance to live a life of his own, and saw a man who was easy both to manipulate, and to empower.
they weren't aggressive about their agenda because they knew what would happen. the founder/ceo (a man i have decided is named Thomas) simply let owen recover in their facilities and let him free when he was able to leave, with an explanation of their plan, and an offer of further help should he require it.
owen broke within a month. a string of killings across europe simply attributed to an individual named The Deadliest Man Alive. CHIMERA drags owen back by the scruff of his neck.
"what the hell do you think you're doing."
"what? who are they going to arrest? owen carvours fucking dead."
its very important to me that owen wasnt brainwashed by CHIMERA. every choice has to come from him because the catharsis of him fully believing in the ideology he carries out with his chest for the first time is just delicious.
he doesnt. hate curt. i dont think. he loves curt, and he hates the institution of Espionage that forced them into this. but ultimately, that institution is so driven into curt that owen cant get what he really wants, which is to break curt out of that and have him all to himself. coldest goodbye reprise is a moment of sorrowful acceptance for both of them. owen understands that curt is always going to be a spy, no matter what, and giving up on the fantasy he had.
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i have never been so convinced that we are gonna get a buddie feelings reveal/realization (probably from buck), and yes it’s because of the vertigo poster.
if y’all are like me and have never seen vertigo before, i did a lil deep dive into it and here’s what i found and how it relates to the vertigo poster that tim dropped.
so in vertigo, scottie (eddie) basically falls in love with this woman madeleine (shannon) who ends up dying right in front of him. while he’s ‘recovering’ from her death, he meets judy (kim), who looks exactly like madeleine and he basically tries to force judy to become her.
however this is not the important part of the whole vertigo thing, that’s just pointing out how similar this eddie storyline already is to the movie.
the important thing is the poster (which @911bts has posted). on the bottom, it has a bunch of names, which for the most part are all names of people who worked on the original vertigo movie. except one. barbara bel geddes is switched to oliver stark which is sooooo significant, specifically because it was so unnecessary (it could have easily been switched to edy or just not been switched at all). this is so significant because barbara bel geddes played midge, scottie’s ex-fiancee who still has feelings for him. midge is the character who is always there for scottie, always tries to do what’s best for him, and is trying to make him fall in love with her again. in my opinion, midge also represents a type of love that scottie isn’t necessarily ready for. in the movie that love is a more mature settled down type of love, however i do think its can easily be translated into eddie not being ready at this moment in the show to love another man.
also here are a couple little screenshots from some analyses about midge that i think are just a little too similar to the eddie storyline right now
so anyways buck pining era is cominggggg
#also the woman who played madeleine/judy was kim novak#idk if tim made new shannon’s name kim on purpose but i thought that was interesting#911#911 abc#buddie#eddie diaz#edmundo diaz#evan buckley#shannon diaz#911 kim#tim minear#vertigo#911 spoilers#911 abc spoilers
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AAAAAA COULD YOU PLEASE MAYBE WRITE SOME CONTENT OF DAD! ROBOUTE WITH HIS S/O AFTER THEY HAVE KIDS? I WOULD BE SUPER MEGA ULTRA GRATEFUL!! THANK YOU!!
[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]
Author's note: Here you go, enjoy some cute dadboute content :3
Relationships: Roboute Guilliman/Fem!Reader
Warnings: None really other than the implication of a dangerous pregnancy
“So, where is the little lady?”
Sanguinus crosses his arms casually over his chest, ignoring the sound of weapons clanking against each other. Guilliman does much the same.
“She is in our quarters resting still. The medicae insisted bedrest after he was born.” Sanguinus takes his words seriously, he was one of the only people Guilliman confided his worried about you in. However he also smiles, which Guilliman finds odd until he speaks.
“I imagine it must be a bit frustrating, having to be away from them.” Many of the Primarchs have struggled to contain their jealousy regarding Guilliman’s love, but Sanguinus is kind; He doesn’t doubt he’ll find someone soon.
“Believe me, I would much rather be there than here with you lot.”
Sanguinus smiles wider.
“Horus and Russ both have wandered off, I’ll keep a secret if you want to go see her.”
Guilliman doesn’t need it to be kept a secret, but knowing that Sanguinus will keep the other Primarchs at bay so he can enjoy a moment with his new son is more than appreciated. He gives Sanguinus a nod and takes his leave, the angel's eyes lingering on him for a few moments before looking away.
Each step closer to his quarters makes Guilliman just that bit more relieved, until he sees you in bed. Your child rests in your arms, asleep while you work on something on a dataslate. The medicae had specified plenty of bedrest for you as your body recovered, and he’s relived you’re taking it to heart.
He had also specifically said not to sleep with you for a while, nor get you pregnant until you were completely healed, which had embarrassed Guilliman greatly.
Hearing him enter the massive room you look up, setting the dataslate aside to give him your full attention. You do so gently to avoid shaking the baby in your arms, who does little more than make a few grumbles as you shift.
“You’re back soon, did things end early?” He comes closer and shakes his head, after kneeling at the side of the bed.
“I left for a moment to see you.” You smile, but it's coated in over-exaggerated suspicion.
“The Guilliman I know would never miss or skip out on a meeting. You must be an imposter.”
You seem in bright spirits joking and teasing him, but Guilliman knows well that the child of a primarch nearly killed you- and that you’re still more than likely in pain. He leans down to gently press a chaste kiss to your forehead.
“Perhaps I have been. And the others were none the wiser.”
Guilliman looks down at his child in your arms and gently moves his hand close, brushing a knuckle across his cheek.
"You should come back in an hour or two when he’s up to eat and put him back to sleep,” You say, and Guilliman gives you a sour look that makes you giggle.
Quite quickly you’ve learned that Guilliman’s voice seems to put your child right to sleep, something you’ve endlessly teased him about. While his voice is something you'll never tire of in its deep and dulcet tone, he can quickly become drone and monotonous depending on subject matter.
“Let me get a copy of this months expenditure for the Ultramarines and I’ll return to read it.” You would ask him to hold his child, but you know he’s still nervous about it. He’s still so small; Guilliman worries about his strength. You don’t push it, but you know he’s showing his love in other ways.
“Quite the bedtime story,” You look up at him as he cups his hand around your child’s side.
“You jest, but in my youth my father or mother would tell me about old Macraggian wars before bed.” Guilliman's eyes look away from his child for only a moment to see you scoff.
“Old battle tales are a bit different than a spending document, Roboute.”
Guilliman can’t help but soften his face. He’s so used to hearing his family name or titles; Guilliman, Lord Guilliman, Lord Primarch. He enjoys when he hears you say his name with such softness.
A knock on the door startles you, but you know Guilliman had heard whoever it was coming well before.
“Lord Guilliman? I apologize for the disturbance Lord Dorn is asking for you.” Guilliman sighs.
“I will be there momentarily.”
He looks to you and reaches a hand up to cup your face. You lean into it, smiling and enjoying the warmth of his palm against your skin. Leaning in he presses a kiss to your lips, and stays perhaps longer than he should have. He can hear you contently sigh until he pulls away, and leans to give a kiss to the top of his sleeping son’s head.
“You keep resting. Both of you.”
He looks harshly at you, almost scolding you preemptively. He glares at you as you roll your eyes, but there’s no true discontent behind his expression.
“Love you too, Roboute.”
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Threefold
(For @ladyteldra, who shoved me into this unexpected rabbit hole, but then stuffed it full of content to make me happy)
No one had noticed during the war, as wars were rather distracting. But it was hard not to notice when they got home.
What was left of home; it was still a work in progress.
At first Jiang Yanli excused it away as the magic of Lotus Pier going awry because of what it had been through, but by the second week of reconstruction she tracked down a copy of the Entail from one of the surviving caches.
It shouldn’t have mattered.
Jiang Cheng was the chosen Sect Heir, their Father had made that clear when Jiang Cheng turned fifteen, and Lotus Pier should know that.
(Except Lotus Pier would have felt Mother, then Father, then Jiang Cheng lose their cores here. It might have thought… Perhaps that would explain why…)
When she gently probes Wei Wuxian for his thoughts on their misbehaving inheritance, his face goes stricken and over the next week he dives into the scrolls himself, more thoroughly than she had.
Jiang Yanli had not meant to distract Wei Wuxian from his own self-loathing and his eerie ghost-brides, but that is what it amounts to, in the end.
“Do you think,” Wei Wuxian says finally, over dinner, eyes red and wild like he’s been drinking (clearly distinct, to her, from the red and wild from raising ghosts), “That when Wen Zhuliu. When he – that it broke what marks you as heir?”
Jinag Cheng stiffens at the reminder, and frowns at their brother. “Would that…? But BSSR fixed it.”
“What if it’s not the same core as before?” asks Wei Wuxian, vehemently. “Doesn’t it” he waves a hand towards their surroundings, “feel like it did when we were younger? Before you came of age?”
That’s exactly what it was, Jiang Yanli realizes. The magic of Lotus Pier felt familiar for all it was acting slantwise; it was exactly how it had been before the heir had been named.
“What does that mean, then?” asks Jiang Cheng, standing up. “I’m not the heir, then?”
“You shouldn’t be the heir,” Wei Wuxian says. “You should be the Sect Leader.”
“You’re saying the Lotus Pier doesn’t want me,” says Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli lays a hand on Jiang Cheng’s elbow.
Before she can speak a word, Wei Wuxian says, voice final, “No. I’m saying I think the Lotus Pier thinks you died.”
Their ravaged, gutted home is recovering steadily, with new disciples, new responsibilities, new buildings.
Their new Sect Leader and his right hand aren’t doing so well.
“If it thinks you’ll do better, then fine! Be the sect leader!” Jiang Cheng had yelled at Wei Wuxian one day, terrifying Wei Wuxian who insisted he didn’t have the right nor did he want to, and setting off quite a row (“Oh, so Lotus Pier just isn’t good enough for you, huh? Where DO you want to go then?”). Naturally, that escalated into a more physical fight, and when punches were landed and brothers elbowed in the gut and flipped onto their backs, swords were drawn (“You still won’t use your sword? What if I run you through with mine? Pick up your sword, goddamn you!”) which came to a screeching, horrific halt when Suibian unsheathed for an incensed Jiang Cheng.
Wei Wuxian had a lot to explain.
Jiang Yanli doesn’t think Jiang Cheng will ever forgive Wei Wuxian for this, but she patches them both up as best she can, listens while each rants about the idiocy and foolishness of the other. She talks down one little brother from his stated plan to find Wen Qing and make her switch the cores back, and coaxes the other one to rest with promises that she wouldn’t let Jiang Cheng try something like that while he sleeps (“I promise, you can sleep now, A-Xian, I won’t let him.” “Oh but HE can, HE can decide for me-!”)
“Since we’ve decided not to keep secrets from family,” she tells them, after a week of indulging them both in their childishness, “you should both know. The Jiang family has, now, in the direct line me and Jiang Cheng. And then there’s Wei Wuxian, son of Wei Changze, who was a shu-son of Grandfather’s and, technically, broke the oath he made when he left the sect that he would not have children of his own.”
Their faces, when that finally sinks in, makes her giggle.
[“So you could be Sect Leader, since Lotus Pier would accept you. This explains so much about Mother.”
“I told you that Uncle Jiang wanted it to be you! But…yeah. It really does.”]
[“Wait, so the Waterborne Abyss tried to grab you in Gusu… do you think that it wanted…”
(That particular conversation ended abruptly when the plank Jiang Cheng was standing on crumbles, dumping him into the river below.)]
[“Without Uncle Jiang’s mark on Jiang Cheng showing Lotus Pier who the heir is, I think it’s confused about who to pick,” Wei Wuxian tells them, after more time with scrolls and an unexpected visit to Meishan Yu and Gusu Lan sects. “Should it go with strength, or primogeniture? Dad was older than Uncle Jiang, but Shijie’s older than me. And I don’t have a core – but mine’s not gone, it’s still-”
Wei Wuxian shuts himself up before Jiang Cheng can, that time.]
For some reason, the issue seems to weigh more greatly on her and A-Xian than A-Cheng. Perhaps because even though Lotus Pier had not yet acknowledged Jiang Cheng as Sect Leader, the Jiang Sect had. And Sect-Leaderly duties did not wait on the convenience of an ancient dwelling and what may or may not dwell beneath the watery foundations.
Which is why it’s surprising when it’s Jiang Cheng who finds them the solution.
“Are you sure?” she has to ask him.
“Honestly, I always imagined that when I’m Sect Leader, Wei Wuxian would busy-body his way into doing half my work anyway. The only difference is that you can stay here at Lotus Pier and help instead of marrying out.” The sect leader of a clan could not, after all, marry out.
“You should thank me for getting the engagement called off, then!” says Wei Wuxian. “Can you imagine? If we went through with this, then we’d all be engaged to the peacock.”
“A-Xian,” she chides, and her brother looks at her sheepishly. The grin is more naturally like himself, and not like he’s forcing himself to act like he once did.
“Is that okay with you, A-Jie?” asks Jiang Cheng.
“Yes,” she tells them. She had wanted a husband, children, a family of her own. But asked to make this choice; her sect or herself, her brothers or a family that one day might be. She knew her answer. “When shall we do it?”
In the aftermath, very little changes.
The bemused Jiang disciples are told to address both Young Mistress Jiang and Wei-shixiong as Sect Leader also, which takes them some getting used to, but they adapt soon enough.
The civilians from Yunmeng think it’s splendid, and take great pride in their three Sect Leaders.
The other sects receive a letter informing them that Jiang Yanli, Jiang Wanyin, and Wei Wuxian were ‘…henceforth by mutual agreement, to be recognized as one entity, encompassing legal and spiritual dimensions alike. As leaders of the Jiang sect, they will jointly bear the responsibilities and obligations attached to this esteemed position.’ Naturally this brings about some interested speculation in their allied sects.
[“Are you alright, Wangji? Do not worry, there is no need for you and Xichen to do likewise, it is an old ritual meant to rejoin the branches of a Clan that are at risk of a schism, without the messy business of pruning one side to disallow heirs, or line adoption."]
[“How utterly absurd. That girl, and the Ghost Flute, to be acknowledged as Sect Leader Jiang, when little Jiang Cheng can barely fill the role himself? What is the world coming to. Fetch us some wine, boy.”]
[“No that is not a euphemism for them deciding to have an incestuous polyamorous marriage, Huaisang! It probably has to do with that thing they don’t talk about; though why the Wen were not eaten when they stepped foot in Lotus Pier we’ll never know.”]
#wip#JZX/Yunmeng Sibs#So maybe that cancelled engagement wasn't as cancelled as they thought#whoops#what can you do?#All credit to Lotus Pier's waterborne abyss go to Tel
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youtube
Happy Webcomic Day! My webcomic White Noise is a labor of love--according to Procreate, this page took me 15.5 hours to complete.* Here's a look into that process!
Some other notes:
The thumbnails are done on graph paper and I script while I do them--there is no separate written script for White Noise. I usually spent a couple hours on weekends as needed thumbnailing, sometimes at a coffee shop or at home listening to records.
I then set up the file in Photoshop, so I can lay in the text and use the template I have with bleeds already set up. The text is rasterized and I shuttle the file over to my iPad via Airdrop.
The bulk of the actual work is done in Procreate, which records timelapses that I sometimes share to my Patreon. I usually spend a couple hours most nights after my day job or on the bus commuting doing this.
Once everything art-wise is done, I shuttle the file back over to my desktop to re-set in the text, add a stroke around the speech bubbles (Procreate doesn't have that took fsr) and do the resizing/exporting for web.
On Sunday mornings I get up, queue the page and write the page descriptions. I don't spend any time on the page descriptions outside of that.
Also, this process goes for the whole first arc of White Noise. I'm done with that arc (which means you can binge the whole thing I'm js!!) and am experimenting with some different methods these days, but my workflow is still generally the same.
*Some more talk about the labor (and burnout) involved below the cut:
This particular page (and most of the pages I did in 2023) took a lot longer than normal because I was heading into a burnout period that I'm still lowkey in/recovering from. It's obvious to me now in retrospect watching the timelapse here and seeing how much noodling I'm doing and how much I'm struggling with the process, but at the time I was just very frustrated generally. When I'm not burned tf out pages take maybe 10 hours max.
2023 was a pretty stressful year--lots of big life changes, uncertainty, pet death, health issues--so it's no wonder it propelled me into burnout, but it just goes to show that even the slowest and steadiest pace is not sustainable forever. I've been doing one page a week following this general process for over a decade! And I stuck to that pace because I knew it was one I could maintain. But even so, by the end of this arc I found myself working more and more slowly, not really looking forward to the work, feeling anxious about being behind, unhappy with the finished work, and extremely annoyed with myself for not being able to give it my all right there at the finish line.
I did stop for a while after the epilogue and took a more or less complete break from drawing for about a month--the longest I have EVER gone without drawing, much less working on White Noise--which did help, but these days my ability to work is...inconsistent. I should probably take another total break, but I'm reluctant. What if my passion never comes back? What if people forget about WN? It's already pretty obscure, and with the general social media collapse, it's harder than ever to get people to read my work. Now that I've left Hiveworks, WN doesn't even get the benefit of being linked to other comics (although objectively very, very few readers actually got referred to my comic that way.) And frankly, I'm also just too proud to go too long without comic updates. I've always told myself, I might not be the best artist or the fastest worker or make a popular comic, but I'm consistent. Difficult to let that go.
This is all to say that webcomics are hard. We do them because we love them, we have stories to tell, we are seized with the human compulsion to create. We spend hours of our time, almost always on top of the paying work that allows us to eat, to make something that we then give away for free. It has consequences on us that the reader doesn't often see, no matter how careful we are about it. If you ask me, webcomics deserve to be valued more.
Happy Webcomic Day! Read webcomics!
#webcomics#comics#webcomicday#webcomic day#web comix#indie comics#wn comic#white noise#behind the scenes#art process#comic making#sorry about the vertical video Tumblr would not just let me upload the video file into the post#Youtube
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Hiii!! I’m back idk if it’s too early for me to request again, 😭 I was thinking maybe you can do a headcanons for the ninja when their lover Y/n calls them a cute name in middle of battle and for Lloyd it could be “Green Bean” but for Kai “Hotshot” (used by skylor) but I can’t think of the other ninja, maybe you can think of ones for them. The ninja would act like they don’t like the nickname but secretly love it, I really wanna hear your thoughts on this 😭🙏
Honestly, this is a very cutie idea!! 😝🤭 Have been thinking about how to write this one for at least a few days since I got it! It's not the best as I did get stuck on some of the characters more than others 😭🙏
~~~
How they'd react to cute nicknames in probably one of the most unconvinent timings? {Ninjago's Ninjas}
~ Lloyd Garmadon ~ {Green Bean}
He halted in his movements after he heard you call out to him, "Grean Bean, watch your left!" You shouted this being the first time calling him this nickname, "What?" Nonetheless of being confused, he would continue the battle. Whilest he concealed a smile throughout it and would never confess nor agree that he did such.
Would approach you after about how it was most definitely irresponsible with the timing. Let's just say that you did recove maybe a kiss or more than usually after.
Even with how much he denied his like for it he did secretly wish for it to be used on a more casual term rather then open in battle, knowing the enemy would most likely laugh at him and not be able to take him seriously.
~ Kai Smith~ {HotShot}
Having you right behind him as his rock to hold him from bring hurt, "I've got your back HotShot." It's hard to believe he could be irritated, upset, or angry about it, especially as his lover. Feeding his ego as which also pushed him to work even better, confidence rushing through him.
His arm does often rest around your shoulders, even more now. When he knows you're capable of giving out nicknames, your shoulders will meet rest once again.
Wouldn't bring it out up right away, but he would use it against you if you tried anything in the near future.
~ Cole Brookstone ~ {Pebble}
Didn't even think twice about it and just accepted it at the time being, being too busy to worry about nicknames. Even if he'd get a few butterflies in his stomach from you every time.
"Need help, Pebble?" You had asked oh so sweetly, yet he acted as if he didn't wish to hear it. Crossing his arms with a neutral expression acting as if he didnt like it, but deep down, we all know he is just a softie who enjoys giving and receiving nicknames.
~ Zane Julian ~ {Sherbet}
He fully stopped coding and looked over at you. The only word to explain how he looked was confused. "Have you named me after an ice cream sort?" But decided to jump back to what he had to finish either way.
"I turned off the cameras on the first floor, Sherbet." Only informing him about the updates yet being confronted with a more suspicious reaction then intended.
~ Jay Walker ~ {Blitz}
"Catch Blitz!" Was the only words he heard before he was hit on the shoulder by the the nunchucks someone kicked out of his grip. His heart raced alongside his cheeks, heating up but luckily hidden under his mask.
He truly did appreciate and adore nicknames from the one and only you! He was embarrassed that it was in front of others, so he would "complain" about how he didn't like it even when he thought it was adorable. Flared his nose and shook his head when it came to this topic of liking the nickname.
~ Nya Smith~ {Lily Pads}
"Use the water, Lily Pads!" Her eyes widened, but shook it off quickly to continue her main gaol at this moment. She was confused at first but did find it cute, so she decided not to comment until a better time, at least until there wasn't someone trying to kill them was there.
Ended up never even mentioning it, but she looked unpleased about it. Having gotten used to you spitting out cute names here and there didn't bother her too much after a while.
A scowl on her lips about it, knowing it's best to show you that it wasn't okay for the nicknames to be spat out in important timings.
#headcanons#lego ninjago#ninjago#lloyd garmadon x reader#kai smith x reader#cole brookstone x reader#ninjago lloyd garmadon#ninjago cole brookstone#ninjago kai smith#ninjago nya smith#jay walker x reader#zane julien x reader#nya smith x reader#ninjago zane julien#ninjago jay walker#lego ninjago headcanon#ninjago headcanons
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is wishing you could be a system a symptom of being one? i was reading your blog yesterday and i got very very sad, and other system content will often make me sad because i relate to feeling like, in system terms, an original personality/memory holder who is too sad and traumatized to function and doesnt want to front, only its like i always have to be me no matter how much i hate me, and hate existing. so as a result i just dont function really. i relate to stuff you said about shutting down when in too much distress, like going emotionally numb, and i also dissociate a lot. but even when my mind is on something else and im acting different, its not really like switching to a different mode of awareness. i think it might be better if it was. i wish i was an alter so i could go dormant forever. im scared that its too late to completely rehaul how i conceptualize... living, thinking, being, etc... im scared i have to be me forever. im not sure this is a normal or appropriate way to feel... and im sorry for asking something so emotionally loaded too. i dont even know what im asking really... i guess just, if you have any advice, and if you ever felt this way before you realized you were a system, and how you realized. thanks if you answer. sorry
Hi, i wanted to try and write a helpful response however it ended up being Way Longer than i expected to say anything substantial so it's under the cut
I can't really give a 100% certain answer to your question—Symptoms like emotional shutdown and dissociation in response to stress/trauma are also possible without necessarily being a system, ultimately I can't say whether or not you are one (it took me a while to even say whether or not I was one haha). I personally didn't have the experience of wishing i could be a system before i figured it out, but I think I've heard from some other systems that they did experience that; I suppose it's different for everyone.
i'd try to give a more helpful response about how i realized i was a system but i actually don't remember very much about it—I guess I was always aware that I had an "other state" of myself with Very distinctly different mannerisms from my own who was pretty consistently "triggered out" by specific situations (the other state was also aware of themself like "oh, i'm in This Mode again"), and then eventually i thought "that might not be normal actually" and started researching about dissociative disorders some more
Regardless of whether or not you have alters/are an alter, I don't think going dormant would solve the problem, even though I absolutely understand the feeling. While we were still discovering our system we were in a pretty bad place, and when we discovered our own emotion-holder she was very angry and sad—which scared me initially, and i Kind of Wished that she would disappear or that I could just be A Normal Regular Singular Person. A while later I calmed down and realized it was not productive to wish things like that, so I tried talking to her and telling her that it was okay to feel angry, but that things can be better now than in the past and we are capable of healing—treating her with compassion
I think having a conversation with A Literal Part of Myself that held our anger and sadness was helpful, but I also think it's possible to do something similar even if you're not a system—to treat yourself with compassion too, I guess is what I'm getting at here.
I didn't think it would get better, but it did. I mean it took a while and there were ups and downs , but as long as you're still here it is never to late to learn to live again and to recover
Ultimately, everyone's circumstances are different and maybe what helped me doesn't apply the same way to you, but please try to remember that things can get better. Healing is possible, i wish you the best
#summarizing the multiparagraph long response the important part is that healing and getting better is possible regardless of whether you're#a system or not and also do not give up hope#ask
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Matt & Me🎀
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14
a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.
fem! reader x singer! matt
disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.
warnings - mentions of drug use,, mentions of cheating,, physical violence
y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷
Chapter 12
Now I could spend every minute with Matt. There were times when we’d shut ourselves off from the rest of the world for days. Matt would leave word that he wanted “no calls unless it’s my dad or an emergency call from Colonel.” It was my time, and no one could interfere. He was all mine.
When we got hungry, I phoned down to the kitchen and ordered our food, which was brought up and placed outside our bedroom door. After we finished, we stacked our empty trays neatly back in the same place.
We saw no one, nor even the light of day. The windows were insulated with tin foil and heavy blackout drapes to prevent any hint of sunlight from entering. Time was ours, to do with as we pleased, for as long as we pleased. Matt had a few months free between film commitments, and there was no pressure to return to Hollywood. We always seemed to be more in love when we were alone. I loved those times, when he was just Matt, not trying to live up to an image or a myth. We were two people discovering each other.
Only in the privacy of our own quarters did Matt show me a side of himself which had rarely, if ever, been seen by others. With no Colonel, no scripts, no films or music, nor any other people’s problems, Matt could become a little boy again, escaping from the responsibilities of family, friends, fans, the press, and the world. Here with me, he could be vulnerable and childlike, a playful boy who stayed in his pajamas for days at a time.
One day he was the dominant one and would treat me like a child, often scolding me for an incidental action. On other days I was the stronger one, looking after him like a doting mother, making sure that he ate everything on his plate, took all of his vitamins, and didn’t miss any of his favorite TV shows like Laugh-In, The Untouchables, The Wild, Wild West, The Tonight Show, and Road Runner. We listened to early Sunday morning gospel singing—our favorites were the Stamps, the Happy Goodman Family, and Jake Hess—and we watched the old movie classics that Matt loved: Wuthering Heights, It’s a Wonderful Life, and Miracle on 34th Street.
When we weren’t watching movies, we played silly games like hide-and-seek, or we’d have pillow fights that often ended in heated discussions of who hit whom the hardest. Our arguments were usually playful, but I noticed that they could become serious, especially after we’d each taken a couple of diet pills.
One evening we had both taken uppers and were wrestling with each other. I threw a pillow at him. He ducked it, and then, laughing, threw it back. I hurled another one at him, and then another, and without giving him a chance to recover, I threw another one. The last one hit him in the face. His eyes flashed with anger.
“Goddamn it!” he snapped. “Not so rough. I don’t want to play with a goddamn man.” He grabbed my arm, throwing me on the bed, and while demonstrating how hard I had thrown the pillows, he accidentally hit me in the eye. I flung my head to the side and jumped up, accusing him of hitting me on purpose.
“You can’t play without winning,” I yelled, “even with me. You started throwing harder and harder. What did you expect me to do?”
I stomped off to my dressing room and slammed the door as I heard him yelling, “You’re not a goddamn man.”
That night, we went to the movies. My arm was bruised where he’d grabbed me, and my eye was swollen black and blue. To make matters worse—and to make sure he felt bad—I wore a patch over the bruised eye. Everyone teased me, and Matt joked, “Couldn’t help it. She tried to get rough with me. I had to show her who’s boss.”
That night I got named “Toughie.”
Despite his teasing, Matt felt terrible about the incident. He had immediately apologized to me and kept apologizing for days.
“Baby, I’m really sorry,” he said. “You know I’d never hurt you in any way, that I’d never lay a hand on you, don’t you? That was a real accident.”
Yet the incident frightened me.
From then on, I began taking fewer pills and eventually stopped. I tried to persuade him to do the same. I started to question the quantities even though I knew he had various ailments causing pain which necessitated taking prescribed medication. I did everything I could for Matt and we shared many wonderful happy times together. However, his harsh objection to stopping made me realize that there could be a problem. I assumed he knew best for himself.
Colonel William’s theory was: “If you want to see Matt Sturniolo, you buy a ticket.” Once you started passing out freebies, it meant a lot of lost income. He stuck to that policy.
Matt agreed with the Colonel, feeling that Colonel knew best, saying, “Colonel doesn’t mind taking the blame.”
When life got boring you could count on Matt to concoct some new escapade. He was extraordinarily inventive. One particularly dreary day he decided out of the blue that he didn’t like the looks of an old house located on the grounds in back of the mansion. His uncle Travis had once occupied the place, which was now used for storage. Matt took a long look at it, called his father, and told him to get a bulldozer over there right away and get rid of it.
I could imagine what was going through James’s mind: Good God, what’s he up to now? He knew if Matt was at home and bored between films, anything could happen.
When the bulldozer appeared, Matt insisted that he was going to do the honors, convincing his father—and the local fire and demolition departments—that he could handle the job himself.
Wearing his football helmet and his big furry Eskimo coat, Matt proceeded, as his entourage cheered him on, to bring down the house and set it afire. This brought the fire trucks screaming through the gates. “You’re a little late, fellows,” Matt said, a happy, mischievous smile on his face.
Another time, he ordered his go-carts to be brought out and readied to ride. He held the record, of course, for the fastest time around the large circular drive.
Trying to prove that I was just as good as the guys, I tried to equal his time. Terrified, I would speed along as Matt clocked me on his stopwatch, giving me an approving grin when I reached the fifteen-mile-per-hour mark.
He turned Graceland into a private playground for us all. He’d have gun-shooting contests and also “screaming thrill rides” when he’d pack several people into his custom-built golf cart and race around the grounds at top speed.
Graceland’s backyard had more holes in it than the moon has craters—all from Romancandle fights. On the Fourth of July Matt always spent a fortune on fireworks, which arrived by the boxload. The boys would team up sides, aim candles directly at one another, and fire.
Although there were casualties—burned fingers and singed hair—no one seemed to care. Matt himself was as carefree as a young kid, hiding and then sneaking around the opposition with surprise attacks. Matt knew how to play hard and have fun.
Unfortunately, the time came for him to go back to Hollywood. He was due to begin his new film, Viva Las Vegas. His bus was parked in front of the white stone lions flanking the front steps of Graceland, loaded and ready to go.
I hated to see him leave. Arm in arm, we walked out the door.
Suddenly I pulled him back and tried to tell him what I was feeling, but there were distractions all around—people saying goodbye, music blaring from inside the bus, Alan yelling to George Klein to keep the sound rockin’ and rollin’.
I thought, If only it were quieter, if only Matt would take me aside so we could have some privacy.
But his attention was on all the activity and he was caught up in the excitement of going back to work.
“What is it, Baby?” he asked.
“I just wish you didn’t have to leave so soon,” I said, still unable to tell him what was really on my mind. “Just when we were starting to get used to each other, you have to go. I wish there were more time.”
“I know, Little One. Just give me a couple of weeks to get into the film and maybe you can come out for a while. Be a good girl, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He gave me a quick kiss on the lips and boarded the bus, the doors slamming shut behind him. Then I heard the familiar shout, “All right. Let’s roll it!”
With a roar, the bus cruised down the hill and through the Music Gates where, as always, his fans were loyally waving goodbye and urging him to “hurry home!”
I watched until I could no longer see the red taillights fading out on Highway 51.
Cursing myself, I wondered why I couldn’t tell him what I feared. I’d been upset ever since I’d learned that his new leading lady was going to be Julia Ernst, the fastest-rising starlet in Hollywood. Julia Ernst had made only a few movies, including Bye-Bye Birdie, but she’d been dubbed “the female Matt Sturniolo.” Matt was curious about her, pointing out that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”
I realized that even had I told him my fears, he could have said nothing to put my mind at ease, because one evening he had made the mistake of telling me about the romances he’d had with many of his costars. Trying to listen calmly to these stories, I justified his behavior by reminding myself that I’d been living in Germany during those years and that we’d had no real ties then.
Now I was in his territory, living in his house with his friends, his family, and mementos of the past. It didn’t occur to me then, but I was living the way he wished—out of Hollywood society, the girl back home. I adapted. I wasn’t with him, but in a sense I was. And I assumed that he would be as faithful to me as I was to him.
Each time I would get ready to join Matt in Los Angeles he would delay my visit.
“Baby, now’s not the time to come out. There’s a problem on the set.”
“What kind of problem?”
“It’s just that all hell’s broke loose. I’ve got some crazed director madly in love with Julia. The way he’s directing it, you’d think it was her movie. He’s favoring her in all the goddamn close-up shots.” He paused, his anger rising. “Not only that, they want her to sing some of the songs with me. Colonel ’bout blew a fuse. Told ’em they’d have to pay me extra to sing with her.”
As I listened to Matt rant and rave, I tried to sympathize with him and his situation, but emotionally I was far more concerned about his leading lady than his director.
“Well, how are you and Julia Ernst getting along?” I asked.
“Oh, she’s okay, I guess.” He casually dismissed her with the line, “a typical Hollywood starlet.”
My concern was temporarily allayed. I knew that his attitude toward actresses was unfavorable. “They’re into their careers and their man comes second,” he’d say. “I don’t want to be second to anything or anyone. That’s why you don’t have to worry about my falling in love with my so-called leading ladies.”
I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t help noticing the national gossip magazines and the headlines about the torrid affair on the set of Viva Las Vegas. The problem was that the affair was not between Julia Ernst and the director. It was between Julia Ernst and Matt.
We were talking on the phone one night and I asked, “Is there anything to it?”
“Hell, no,” he said, immediately becoming defensive. “You know how these reporters are. They blow everything out of proportion. She comes around here mostly on weekends with her motorcycle. She hangs out and jokes with the guys. That’s it.”
But that was enough for me: She was there and I wasn’t.
Infuriated, I declared, “I want to come out now.”
“No, not now! We’re wrapping up the film and I’ll be home in a week or two. You keep your little ass there and keep the home fires burning.”
“The flame’s burning on low. Someone had better come home and start the fire.”
Matt laughed. “You’re beginning to sound like me,” he bragged. “I’d better watch it. There can’t be two of us walking around. I’ll be home soon, Baby. Get everything ready.” By the end of our phone call, I was eagerly making plans for his return.
I took out my calendar, counted the days until his homecoming, and then crossed them off one at a time. Threatened with doubts and fears, I did everything I could to please him, from educating myself about the gospel music he loved to taking good care of Graceland.
My eagerness to please Matt was so overwhelming that it almost angered him. He always had an excuse why his other relationships hadn’t worked out. “They were either too hometown and couldn’t fit in with my Hollywood life-style,” he said, “or they were actresses too into their careers.” But how could he get out of a commitment to such a willing partner as me?
I often felt sorry for myself, and angry at Matt for putting me in a situation in which I was forced to be alone for literally weeks at a time.
Bored, I resorted to exploring the attic at Graceland. I’d asked Grandma once what was up there, and she’d answered, “Oh, nothin’, Hon, jus’ some old junk. God, I haven’t been up there in ages. No tellin’ what’s up thereor who.”
There was no question that something was stirring around in the attic. Many nights strange noises were heard above the kitchen. Grandma said she’d heard the noises herself, lying awake, praying for daylight before even closing her eyes for sleep.
She imagined that it might be Mary Lou’s spirit up there, watching over Matt.
“Do you believe in spirits, Grandma?” I asked.
“Ah, yes, Hon. Sometimes I wander through this house and I can just feel ’em all around. Ask Hallie, she knows. She’s felt ’em too.”
Hallie was a large dark-skinned woman, our faithful and devoted companion. She stayed with Grandma and me at night while Matt was away, guarding us with her life—and a small gun that she tucked securely under the bed each night.
One evening, after Hallie turned out the lights, I asked her, “Hallie, do you think there’s spirits there, like Grandma does?”
“Well, Miss y/n, all I can tell you is that I hear strange voices I ain’t never heard before in any house I’ve ever been in, and sometimes it gits awful quiet here, a kind of stillness that I ain’t never felt neither. But don’t you lay there and worry, child. If there are any spirits, they’ll do you no harm.”
“Amen,” Grandma said.
The next day, I decided to venture up to the attic, to see for myself what was there. As I walked up the stairs, I rubbed my hand up and down the gold-painted banister, noting the chipped paint. I called out, “Don’t you think this should be repainted, Dodger?”
Grandma, standing at the bottom of the stairs, lifted her dark shades to get a closer look. “Yes, Hon, we’d better tell James. That does look bad.”
“Maybe we should do it before Matt gets home and surprise him. I’ll ask Mr. Sturniolo in the morning.”
At the top of the stairs I entered the attic and discovered Matt’s world.
Several trunks were filled with his military gear. There were old television sets and furniture that had been in his bedroom years before. I ran my hand over a couch, wondering who’d sat there with him. Jealous, I walked away.
I found two closets side by side and opened one. It was filled with clothes from Matt’s early days—black leather jackets, motorcycle hats, and a pink shirt I’d seen in pictures. I loved the way he looked in that shirt and wished he’d wear it again.
With growing curiosity, I sorted through everything. I felt closer to Matt just by touching his things, and all I could think of was what girl he’d been with at the time—Lucy, Judy, Nicole, Bonnie? I was so possessive, I had to know.
Then I came across some letters hidden under an old sweater, letters from Nicole, all addressed to him in Germany. I put them in dated order, from his arrival in Germany to his departure, and sat there for hours poring over every one.
Nicole had written at least two letters a week, all saying basically the same thing: she loved him, missed him, and was counting the days until his return—just as I had done. She had been in the process of acquiring him as a lover just as I’d been losing him. Clearly Nicole had been telling her that she was the only one in his life. Confused and hurt, I realized that he had been writing to his “Little Bit,” as he called her, that he couldn’t wait to come home and see her, at the same time that he had been holding me tightly, telling me he couldn’t bear to leave his “Little Girl.”
I felt betrayed, as I’m sure she felt when she read and heard about me. Returning the next day to investigate the adjoining closet, I came upon Mary Lou’s belongings—her clothes, her old photos and papers. It was strange to see all her dresses, hanging neatly. I knew Matt had had them put there. He couldn’t have faced throwing away any of her personal belongings.
I tried on one of her dresses and could tell that she liked soft materials on her skin, just as I did. By the size of her dress, I could see she was a small woman, and by the texture, I knew she cared more about the feel of a dress than about fashion or style. She liked to dress simply and comfortably. I felt guilty in her dress, but it gave me a better sense of Mary Lou Sturniolo: a woman, as Grandma had described her, with a heart of gold—yet you never wanted to cross her. When she was angry, “she cussed like a sailor and had the wrath of God in her.”
I felt sad—for Matt, for Mary Lou, for us all because we have to contend with death. Life could be so different if Mary Lou were here, I thought, weeping as though she were my own mother. I felt Mary Lou’s presence in that little room, also her grief and loneliness. Maybe it was her spirit that Grandma and Hallie sensed.
All of a sudden, Hallie’s face appeared in the doorway. We both screamed with fright, yelling, “What are you doing up here?”.
“Child, this ain’t no place you should be. Too many sad memories. B’sides, it’s dark and scary. Only reason I come up is ’cause Miss Minnie was worried ’bout you.”
Then, as Hallie walked away, waving her hands above her head, she said under her breath, “No ma’am, I don’t like it up here.”
The next time Matt returned to Los Angeles, where he was to begin filming Kissin’ Cousins, I flew with him. I loved L.A. It was exciting compared to the slow pace I had grown accustomed to in Boston. Best of all, I felt a part of Matt’s world. His hectic schedule and daily life were realities to me now, no longer just remote events chronicled in our nightly phone calls.
The problem was that his life still included Julia Ernst, despite the fact that their film, Viva Las Vegas, had been completed six weeks before. The newspapers were reporting their “blossoming” affair daily, each article hitting me like a slap in the face. I thought, When will this be over—the news, the gossip, the headlines, the affair.
Matt returned from the studio one afternoon, carrying a newspaper and fuming. “I can’t believe she did it.” He flung the paper against the wall in disgust. “She had the goddamn nerve to announce we’re engaged.”
Though I was pretty sure of the answer, I asked, “Who?”
“Julia Ernst. Every major newspaper in America’s picked it up. The rumor’s spread like a goddamn disease.”
Turning to me, he said, “Honey, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. The press will be hanging around the gate and following me all over for a statement. Colonel suggests maybe you should go back to Boston till it calms down.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Suddenly all the months of unbearable silence broke and I screamed, “What’s going on here? I’m tired of these secrets. Telephone calls. Notes. Newspapers!” I picked up a flower vase and hurled it across the room, shattering it against the wall. “I hate her!” I shouted. “Why doesn’t she keep her ass out of here where she belongs?”
Matt grabbed me and threw me on the bed. “Look, goddamn it! I didn’t know this was going to get out of hand. I want a woman who’s going to understand that things like this might just happen.” He gave me a hard, penetrating look. “Are you going to be her—or not?”
I stared back at him, furious and defiant, hating him for what he was putting me through.
After a long pause, our tempers cooled considerably. Once again desperate to please, I said, “I’ll leave tomorrow. I’ll be waiting in Boston.”
Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.
a/n - 3 songs for extra long chapter!! (can you tell i like ultraviolence😬) 🎀
#matt stuniolo fanfic#matthew sturn#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo edit#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#Spotify
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Hey, could you be able to draw or write about Copia x Aether? In nsfw pls!! <3
This one really got away from me and end up being 3k words. damn.
Anyways this is just some really soft copiaeth because they're in love I don't make the rules
I hope you like it :3
MDNI 18+
Everything had moved so fast after Terzo got replaced. A whole new pack was summoned. Dew became a fire ghoul. New uniforms were thrusted into their hands. They were all introduced to the Cardinal that would be taking over the Ghost Project with new music shoved into their hands. Between helping Dew recover and learning the dynamics of the new pack, Aether barely had any time to assess how he felt about it all. Especially how he felt about that Cardinal.
He seemed cocky and overconfident the first few times they met, boasting about how he’d wipe the floor with Terzo. It made Aether’s hackles raise the way he talked about his Papa. The moment they started spending more time together though Aether realized it was all for show. He’d come to visit Dew late at night in the infirmary when he thought nobody was around. He’d sit with him, praying to the Lords Below his recovery was swift. On one occasion Aether overheard him apologizing for Dew’s condition, voice cracking with the admission that Terzo would’ve done the ritual better. Aether kept a closer eye on the Cardinal after that night.
Once the band started rehearsing his true nature shone right through whatever mask the Clergy made him feel forced to wear. He was awkward albeit kind. He praised every ghoul individually after each rehearsal. He was laidback with them, more so than any of the previous Papas. Aether couldn’t help but grow a fondness for him.
It didn’t help that Copia seemed to be returning the feeling. When Dew was well enough to leave the infirmary he still visited, blaming the nightly visits on his insomnia. He’d always drift around the corridors until he bumped into Aether. They’d chat in low whispers so as not to disturb any patients, Aether would ask if there was anything he could do to help, and Copia would only respond with a stutter and a shrug. When it got closer to tour and he seemed to be living in his office and the rehearsal room, Aether would check on him to make sure he wasn’t working himself to death. The first night Copia asked Aether to stay, just needing some company while he worked on some final logistics, was when he knew the Cardinal was more to him than just his superior.
It became exponentially worse once on tour. Aether didn’t know if it was just for the fans or if it was Copia’s own strange form of flirting, but everytime those gloved fingers ran up his leg Aether felt fire in his veins. The night that hand drifted to caress his inner thigh while Copia went on and on about how big and strong he is ruined him. Dew laughed at him once they were off stage for having to hide his half hard dick the rest of the show. All because the sweet, awkward little Cardinal got his hands on him.
Tonight’s show was Aether’s breaking point. Everything was going smooth until it was time for introductions after If You Have Ghosts. Copia kneeled, resting his head against his hip. He dragged the tip of his finger up his leg following the inseam of his pants.
“Well built…everywhere” Copia’s hand was so close to his rapidly thickening cock. All he had to do was shift his weight and he’d be palming him in front of hundreds of people.
Aether cracked his neck, trying to force the thought out of his head. Just as quick as that hand was on him, the feeling of warm leather disappeared. He moved out of the heat of the spotlight, standing in the low blue beside Swiss’ stage. He needed to get himself under control before a fan got a different kind of show. Luckily Copia was on the other side of the stage introducing Cirrus and Cumulus. He felt like he could breathe.
“We can smell you ya know” Swiss bent to whisper into Aethers ear.
“Swiss not now.”
“Then when big guy” he laughs “everyone knows you wanna fuck him. Can’t say I blame you though with how fucking tight those pants are.”
Aether turns his attention to his guitar, tuning it to avoid thinking about Copia’s costume choices. Swiss leans in closer.
“If you don’t make a move then I might just see if I can catch a cardinal.”
Aether doesn’t have time to tell Swiss off, before he knows it Copia’s finished with introductions and moving on to the next song in the set. He spends the rest of the show thinking about that pit that settled in his stomach with Swiss’ insinuation. He can’t help the way his eyes track Copia across the stage. Fuck why did he have to wear white? If he let his mind go farther than the music he could feel the caress of hands.
Bows came around and he was reluctant to hand his guitar off to the techie. He was well aware of the bulge of his half hard cock. Dew slapped his ass with a wink when he wandered over to his side to throw some picks and he’s never been more grateful for the mask. He rushes to his spot between Cumulus and Swiss, wanting nothing more than to get to the hotel and take a cold shower. Swiss and Cumulus snicker at the state of him.
The time it takes to get off stage and into his after show clothes is a blur. Before he knows it he’s standing outside waiting for the van to pull around. He’s so lost in his own thoughts he doesn’t notice Copia slide up next to him.
“You disappeared before I could ehh speak with you.”
“About what?” Aether glanced sideways at him, admiring his side profile. The proud jut of his nose.
“You.”
“Me?”
Was Copia finally making a move on him that wasn’t just public fondling? It took Aether by surprise, he never would’ve guessed that awkward little man would have the gall. He’s done nothing but surprise Aether since they met, and he’s dying to see what else the Cardinal is hiding.
“Your performance tonight you did not seem as ehh energetic as your usual self. Are you feeling well?”
Of course not.
“I’m fine, Cardinal. Just a bit of shoulder pain but it’s nothing.”
Copia hums, nodding in response. They stand in silence as the rest of the ghouls slowly fill in. They wait outside for another five minutes before the van that’ll take them to the hotel pulls around. They pile in one by one and Aether almost has a moment of relief before he sees Copia sitting where Mountain usually does. Right next to him. Mountain is in the front seat greeting the driver. Copia must notice the staring because he clears his throat.
“He asked me to switch seats. His ehh legs were bothering him and he did not want to be cramped back here.”
Aether just nods and gets settled. He stares out the window once the van starts rolling away from the venue. He definitely isn’t thinking about how he can feel Copia’s thigh pressed against his. How small it is compared to him. He definitely isn’t letting his mind wander, thinking of all the ways he could prove to Copia just how strong and well built he is.
He’s pulled from his mind when he feels a hand on his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. Before he can even begin to fathom a response it’s rubbing firm circles across his back.
“You looked a little ehh tense, are you sure your shoulder isn’t an issue?”
Oh this man was going to be the death of him.
“I’m sure” he smiles but judging from Copia’s expression it reads more as a grimace “but thanks for the concern.”
It wasn’t long before they were at the hotel. The proximity to Copia had done nothing to help the feeling of his cock pressing uncomfortably against his pants. He offered to carry extra luggage just so he could have something to hide behind while Copia got keycards for everyone at the front desk. Luckily it was late and there weren't many people hanging in the lobby. Copia got their cards, passing them out before they split into smaller groups to ride the elevator up to their floor. Unfortunately that meant Aether was pressed into the confined space with the Cardinal. Swiss and Rain were there too. He could feel their eyes on him, could practically hear Swiss’ teasing tone.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The group walked silently through the halls. It’s not the nicest place they’ve been in, the carpeted floor had a few odd stains and the colors didn’t quite match. As long as the shower worked Aether would be happy. Swiss and Rain split first, saying their goodnights when they slipped into their individual rooms.
Of course it was left to just him and Copia. Why wouldn’t it be?
Their rooms were at the end of the hallway, right across from each other. When they got to their doors they lingered for just a moment. Copia’s hand brushed ever so slightly against Aether’s when he wished him a goodnight. He turned to unlock his door before Aether could react. When his mind caught up he only had one thought.
I can’t take this anymore.
Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s pushing Copia into his room and shutting the door behind them. He drops his bags to the floor in favor of caging him against the wall. Copia yelps with the suddenness of it.
“I’m tired of your teasing, Cardinal. You went too far tonight.”
“Settle down Aether, what about your shoulder? I can’t be out of a guitarist.”
There’s a tilt to his voice that tells Aether all he needs to know.
“So how long were you going to play innocent?”
“I never claimed to be anything” Copia smiles up at him.
He runs his hands over Aether’s arms, slowly dragging his fingertips up until he can cradle his face.
“I have been curious about you since I met you, my ghoul. The others they ehh look at you like you are the reason the stars shine at night. I wanted to learn why.”
This catches Aether off guard. The softness of it. He was prepared for banter, teases being swapped back and forth until he was able to bully Copia into the bed, but this vulnerability isn’t what he was expecting from the eccentric Cardinal. Every little thing he learned about him just solidified that fondness that had bloomed in him. He can’t help himself when he leans to capture Copia in a kiss. It’s nothing more than a gentle press of lips, but the sigh Copia lets out coupled with the way he sags into the touch has Aether’s head spinning.
He wants to feel him pressed against him. He wants to drink every delicious noise from him. He wants to see that proud nose buried in the thick hair at the base of his cock. He wants to catch this cardinal and never let him go.
When they break apart Aether can’t help but admire the deep blush that spills from his cheeks to his throat. He runs a clawed hand through his hair.
“I’ll show you anything you want Copia.”
“Dei in basso aiutami.”
Aether chuckles and pulls him off the wall. He picks up both of their bags and walks into the room to set them on yeh chair in the corner of the room. He rummages around in his own for a moment before pulling out a half empty bottle of lube. He nearly drops it when he turns back around only to find Copia sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers, clothes discarded near the bathroom door.
Aether doesn’t think he’s seen a more beautiful human. The hair that covers his chest down to his navel, the swell of his tummy, the tattoo that’s been hidden on his pec. He can’t get enough of it all. He sets the lube down on the nightstand and shucks his own hoodie off. Copia stares up at him, not thinking when he reaches out to run his fingers through the thick fur on Aether’s belly.
“Soft” he muses to himself. He gasps when the stardust threaded into the fur shimmers under his touch.
“I can see why the others are so enraptured with you.”
Aether huffs a genuine laugh “you haven’t seen anything.”
“Then indulge me my ghoul.”
Aether slots himself between Copia’s legs, hands coming up to cup his face. He kisses him again, this time with more fervor. He licks across the seam of Copia’s lips, searching for entrance. When he drops his mouth open Aether tilts his head to get a deeper angle. He licks into his mouth, shoves that forked tongue down his throat. Tasting just to taste.
He crowds Copia back, pushing him so that he’s laying flat on the bed. He doesn’t break contact as he slides up to straddle his hips, drinking down the groan Copia lets out when their clothed cocks brush against each other. Aether can’t help but grind down to hear him make that noise again. And again. And again.
He breaks the kiss for just a moment, just to look at him. Kiss swollen lips and saliva dribbling down the corner of his mouth. Aether bends back down to kiss across his jawline, moving up to suck and bite just under his ear before trailing down to mark his neck. He sucks deep bruises onto his throat he knows the makeup team will scold him for tomorrow. He can’t help it, he needs everyone to know he got the Cardinal first.
He trails further down, leaving open mouthed kisses down his entire abdomen. He pauses his ministrations to nose at his cock through his boxers before hooking a claw into the waistband and pulling them down. Copia shudders when the cool air of the room hits his flushed dick. He cranes his neck to look down at Aether. Oh was that a mistake. The hungry look in his purple eyes makes his stomach swoop, a thick blurt of pre pearling at his tip. Aether holds his eye contact as he unfurls his tongue, licking from root to tip before swiping his tongue to taste him. He presses a kiss to the tip of his dick before pulling away. Copia makes a mixed sound of wounded and confused and Aether can’t help but laugh.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Aether shucks his own pants and boxers off before grabbing the lube off the nightstand. He can feel Copia’s eyes rack over him and he can't help but be a little cocky.
“See something you like?”
“Dio qui sotto you are the most beautiful thing I have laid my eyes on.”
Fuck Aether was beyond his limit. He couldn’t take the sweet words from the Cardinal anymore. He uncaps the bottle and squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. With the clean hand, he spreads Copia’s legs open to settle between them. He rubs his fingers together, spreading the lube before brushing the tips against his rim. He traces his hole with the tip of a claw until Copia is shaking, hips twitching, searching for more. Carefully Aether slips one finger into his hole, groaning at how tight he is.
“I’ve thought about this for so long” Aether pumps that thick finger in and out of him.
“Give me more please give me more” Copia begs from above.
He could draw this out. Take as much time as he wanted savoring every twitch and hitched breath, but Aether wants this. Bad. He can save the teasing for another night. He slips a second finger into him, reveling in the wet sound that echoes through the room. He curls those fingers, pumping them in and out until Copia is shaking, a mix of Italian and English falling from his lips.
He pulls out, grabbing the lube and squirting more into his hand. He jacks himself slowly, spreading a mix of lube and pre over the length of his thick cock. He positions the tip to brush against Copia’s waiting hole and they both groan. He bends to capture him in a kiss when he pushes in. He’s so tight it drives Aether insane. He should’ve given him a third finger, but fuck he couldn’t wait anymore. He had to be inside of him. It's almost agonizing how slow Aether sinks into the warmth of his body. Inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside. By the time Aether’s hips are flush with Copia’s they’re both shaking.
He’s still for a moment before giving an experimental roll of his hips. Copia makes a strangled sound and for a second Aether thinks he might’ve hurt him. Copia wraps his legs around Aether, keeping him close.
“If you do not start moving I am going to lose my mind.”
Aether doesn’t need to be told twice. He sets a steady rhythm, not quite pounding into him but enough to pull a sigh out of Copia each time he pushes back in. Aether’s head spins with the sweet noises. He clenches down on his cock with the next stroke and Aether nearly chokes. He digs his claws into the bedding near Copia’s head and fucks into him harder.
“Touch yourself” he pants, watching the words register in Copia’s mind.
His eyes flutter closed when he gets a hand on himself. Aether can’t look away as he starts to stroke himself in time with each of his thrusts. The pinch between his brow, the way he chews his bottom lip each time Aether drags over his prostate, the deep blush that’s spilled down to chest. Fuck if he could take a picture he would. He etches that face into his memory, something to go back to when he’s alone.
He watches a thick bead of pre squirt into Copia’s happy trail the same time he clenches hard around his cock. He knows he’s close. He picks up his pace, thrusting into him until the sound of skin against skin is deafening, desperate to cum when he does.
“Aether oh fuck don’t stop.”
Aether bends, sucking at the place where neck meets shoulder, grinding deep inside of him. A combination of a well timed thrust and fangs grazing against skin is all Copia needs. He spills hot between them, coating both of their stomachs with rope after rope of cum, a broken moan following. Aether double downs, rutting and spreading the mess further. Copia wraps his arms around his shoulders, leaving open mouthed kisses across his face. Lips drift too close to the base of one of his horns and sensation is enough to throw him off his own edge. His mouth falls open in a silent scream, cumming deep inside of him. He hips rock forward at their own accord with each twitch of dick.
He pants, pausing for a moment to catch his breath before running a hand through Copia’s sweaty hair. Nothing but affection fills his eyes and it makes Aether’s heart beat that much faster. He turns his head and kisses the wrist that’s still by his face.
Aether carefully pulls out of him, rubbing his hands over his thighs to soothe the muscles. He crawls into the bed to rest against the headboard before pulling Copia over to rest against his chest. They’re sticky and sweaty but neither of them seem to care in that moment.
“I can see it now. Why everyone looks at you the way they do. You truly are something my ghoul.”
“And all it took was getting my dick in you.”
“That’s not—I didn’t mean it like that” Copia stutters, blush returning to his face at the insinuation.
Aether chuckles “Relax I was only teasing. I think it’s fair after what you put me through.”
Copia hums. Silence falls over them as they bask in each other's company, too tired to even think about moving. Aether is fading in and out of consciousness when he hears him clear his throat.
“You were serious? When you ehh said you had been thinking about this”
“You have no idea” he pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
Copia smiles to himself, content with the sentiment. He settles against Aether, tucking his nose into the crook of his neck. He falls asleep with those big, well built arms holding him like he was something to cherish.
#the band ghost#ghost bc#nameless ghouls#the band ghost fic#aether ghoul#cardinal copia#ghost copia#aether x copia#18+ mdni#golfball writes
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Tis mermay and trying how to incorporate Cron, Earrh and Moon in Merformers but i think i got it (mostly)
Big underwater world. Unicron injured from a fight barely awake falls deep to the bottom of the water floor.
He crushes lot of abandoned dead eggs but one. His blood is absorbed into the egg and it comes back to life and creature inside grows
Some time passes Moon finds him slumbering..Earth pops out staring him down with dark eyes and munching on a "fish" (she collects parasites from body of her savior and eats them Cron is a sleeping buffet basically)
She refuses to leave the area. Moon not being a deep dweller creature(eventualy he adapts) tries to visit as much as he can and keeps her company and teaches her stuff(and tries to give her better diet because "No! Stop that that is not healthy! " *cue her chewing faster*)
Once when she convinced him to sleep in the area Moon almost cried histericaly when the giant in his slumber shifted and hugged Earth and by proxy Moon to himself
The two used to(moon saw her doing it and decided to teach her properly and joined in) groom scales of Cron when he still slumbered (if Unicron knew he rumbled happily once during these he would deny it forever)
When Unicron wakes they all start traveling together. She outgrows Moon but is not bigger than Cron
That all i got happy mermay 🧜
Ooooh this is a fun merformers idea! Allow me to mess with it a little bit!
In the beginning, Primus and Unicron were twin leviathans born of the same pod. Primus was intended to settle and brood, raising generations of new life forms. Unicron on the other hand was created to guard and destroy the threats to his brother's fledgling offspring. Their conflict began after Primus grew to see Unicron as a threat to his firstborn. Unicron didn't like sharing his brother and Primus would rather die than watch his children be slaughtered.
Thus, they fought. In the end, Unicron was cast away by Primus's thirteen firstborn. Unicron fled to the deep parts of the world, hiding away in places where Primus's children would be unable to handle the pressure and thus leave him to recover in peace. He bitterly planned his revenge even as he fell into a deep slumber, unaware of the fact that the place he had chosen to reside was filled with the pods of a creature killed in his and Primus's skirmish.
Deep in the trenches and slumbering his injuries away, Unicron's blood infused the pods he slept upon. Most were unable to handle the taint and perished. Some grew too quickly and emerged malformed, dying soon after their birth. But one of the pods received the perfect amount of Unicron's blood, and it was from that pod that Earth was born.
Colored like the kelp that grew further up in the trenches, Earth was perfectly hidden as he fluttered about the form of the one she immediately claimed as her father. After all, mothers merely lay the pods. Fathers say with them. Unicron may not have looked like her in the slightest, but to Earth, that was irrelevant. He watched over her, and she in turn cleaned his wounds, removed parasites from his scales, and ensured that he was in as good as health as possible. She only left Unicron's side to feed on the plant life further up the trenches closer to the surface.
That was how Moon found her. He saw her merrily collecting kelp and other plants to take back down into the trenches and he decided to follow her. As one of Primus's second generation spawn, he was larger than the rest and his and his siblings purpose was to fill the void left by Unicron. Of course he had to investigate a young mer without a guardian.
He almost lost his mind when he found just who Earth was returning to and caring for. He tried to get her to leave, but Earth was having none of it. She did not know his language, but she made it quite clear that Unicron was her father and she had no intention of abandoning him. With no other choice, Moon resolved himself. He couldn't leave Unicron unobserved, especially not when a strange creature like Earth was guarding him. She was not strong, but she was... interesting.
Moon took it upon himself to visit her whenever he could. He forcefully adapted to the deep and learned to force his body to glow brighter than normal to pierce the gloom of the trenches. Slowly, he earned Earth's trust, and together they worked to keep the Unmaker comfortable. Moon did so in order to hopefully keep the slumbering leviathan calm. Earth was just happy to have someone to teach her how to clean her father's scales properly. As time passed, Moon grew larger to compensate for his extended time in the deep, and Earth became stronger. They came to rely on each other.
Moon would go up and drive away threats that were too much for Earth to handle. Earth would in turn forage and hunt for food for all three of them. Unicron didn't eat much in his slumber, but every now and then he stirred for a snack, which Earth was all too happy to provide. Mars and Pluto became involved when Mars took it upon himself to set up shop on the surface near the trenches. He was afforded protection in exchange for his silence regarding Unicron. Pluto was a pain to convince to say out of it, but he too agreed to leave Unicron alone in exchange for regular cleaning from Earth who was quickly becoming well known for her gift in putting scales in order.
By the time Unicron woke, he had unintentionally garnered a pod of four leviathans, one of which was technically his spawn. Did he still want to crush Primus? He wasn't entirely sure anymore. After all, despite their disagreement, Unicron couldn't exactly find himself disappointed in Earth or her choice of companions.
Moon made killer meals.
#transformers#maccadam#transformers prime#unicron and earth au#moon#earth#unicron#mars#pluto#mermay#merformers#alternate universe
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we will be everything we say - Chapter 6
masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 3.5k // updates Mondays (aest)
Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.
As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.
But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
a/n: TW for mentions of parental death and abusive behaviours. if you're unable to handle that right now and would like a chapter summary, head to AO3 and look at the chapter's end notes! please look after yourself.
Chapter 6: twenty-three and twenty-four
Tension lingered in the air like a heavy fog, accompanying the grey clouds overhead that helped set the incredibly morose atmosphere. It was fitting, considering what was happening today.
Feyre sat with her sisters, side by side, in the front row of the funeral home. It was a small, simple service - their father had never been a very outgoing man, and it had only gotten worse after their mother had died. Elain had been the one to handle all of the correspondence with the florist, a blend of tulips, carnations, and baby’s breath all stark white in large bunches over the casket. Elain barely looked like herself, with the long-sleeved black dress seeming to drain her of life so much so that she seemed to rival the lifeless body of their father in the coffin at the front of the room. It didn’t help that Elain probably took his passing the hardest. Nesta, on the other hand, looked like she was in her element. Cold, sharp, all angles and precision. Her outfit looked like she was ready to go to a board meeting or an interview, all practicality and projecting that strong visage she held so deeply on to. Both sisters knew there were a lot of complicated feelings towards their father that were simmering just barely underneath the surface of that tailored coat and her a-line skirt, but nobody dared speak it. They just wanted to get through today and put it behind them. The three of them could unpack their own baggage at a later date.
Today Feyre was nervous for a couple of reasons - she’d never been very good at public speaking, and yet she was the one who was giving the eulogy. She heard the funeral officiant say her name, rising from her seat and moving to the front of the room like a ghost of herself, hands shaking slightly. Her hands smoothed out her dress anxiously, fingers moving to fiddle with the oversized sleeves of her long cardigan before she gripped the cistern. Her eulogy was true, but simple - he was a caring husband, a father who loved his daughters, a man who never quite recovered from his demons. The details of what she wrote were merely a haze in her mind as she read it off of the paper she had prepared. But that wasn’t the main reason she was nervous.
What really made her nervous today was the pair of piercing violet eyes looking straight at her from the very back of the room, feeling as if they were piercing her right in the gut.
He had shown up. She had been the one to invite him, after all, but she’d be lying if she said a part of her hadn’t wanted him to come simply to avoid having to talk to him at all. How do you pick back up where you left off with your best friend when you hadn’t talked to them in two years?
She already had to pace the apartment for an hour or so as she tried to send the text to him in the first place to let him know, to get the wording and the tone right, to hope to every god known to man that he still had the same number. To hope that he would come at all. She kept it clinical, at the end of the day.
“Hi there, Rhysand. I know it’s been a while, but I wanted to let you know that my dad passed away a few days ago.
The funeral is next week to the day at 11:00am if you’d like to attend and pay your respects. Prythian Funeral Home.
I hope you’re well.”
It was anxiety-inducing enough to have sent the text in the first place that she hadn’t even bothered to see if Rhys had replied. Instead, Feyre threw herself into funeral preparations - inviting all of her and her sisters’ close friends who had known him and any of his previous business associates he had left. It didn’t fill the room, but it made it feel less pathetic than just the three of them, and that’s all that mattered to them.
The whole time Feyre was up there, it was a pointed effort not to meet Rhys’ eyes. If she did, she felt like she was going to break. So her eyes kept flickering around the room. From Cassian to Amren, from Vassa to Lucien, to anyone but him. Him in his immaculate dress shirt and perfectly tailored trousers, his artfully arranged raven-black hair and his hands adorned in a smattering of silver bands he fiddled with out of the corner of her eye.
The rest of the service after that was a blur. Most people had cleared out of the funeral home to head to Elain’s for the wake - she had tried to offer to cook for everyone, but Feyre and Nesta insisted on catering as Elain had already done so much, was always doing so much. She was already letting Feyre live with her for the time being and it made her feel awful asking for much else. Feyre opted to linger behind, talking to almost each and every person who had come. She gathered up the flowers, made sure that they knew exactly which plot to bury him in - right with their mother - and that there was nothing else to be tended to. Really, she was using it as an escape and a moment to breathe. A moment to delay the inevitable.
And yet, Rhys had always had impeccable timing for better or worse. Today was no different.
He caught her sitting outside on the concrete steps of the funeral home, gazing listlessly into the near-empty parking lot. She didn’t turn to meet his eyes, couldn’t bear it, but was so acutely aware as he sat down on the steps with her. Rhys pressed his side into the wall, Feyre pressing into the railing, a gap that lingered heavily between them. Two years of self-imposed exile that she couldn’t help but feel ashamed about, and this is what it amounted to - two people who knew each other so deeply pretending like they barely knew anything anymore on the steps in a town they’d both called home. She could hear Rhys inhale, ready to break the silence, but she raced to go first. She was the one who had pushed him out in the first place, it was only fair that she had to be the one to try and let him back in.
“Thanks for coming today. You didn’t have to.” Feyre’s eyes were trained firmly on her hands folded into her lap. She could hear his breath hitch slightly, whether it was in relief or confusion or something else, she couldn’t tell.
“Of course I had to. Even if he wasn’t always the most… present person. He was still like a father to me. Still let me in his home, eat his food, stay over. It wouldn’t be right to miss it.” Rhys’ eyes flicked up to Feyre’s face and she could feel them practically burning a hole in her temple, her cheek, her eyes, everywhere she knew he was observing. Trying to get a read on her, trying to ask without being demanding.
“That… means a lot, Rhys. I know it’s been a while.”
A dry laugh escaped him. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s an understatement. But I can’t blame you for it.”
Feyre’s heart twisted in guilt and hurt at that. She deserved it - while he had been the one to kiss her, she had been the one to force that distance no matter how much she just wanted her best friend back. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Rhys would have probably been in a similar way. A heavy sigh passed her lips, turning her head to finally face him properly after two long years apart. He was very much the same, yet different. The same slant of his jaw, the same expressions she had known since she was young. But he was slightly taller, hints of tattoos peeking out beneath the collar of his shirt, a mild weariness about him that wasn’t there before. Maybe it had been hidden by his confidence the last time she saw him. It didn’t matter now - all that mattered was that he had shown up.
“Yeah, well… You weren’t the only one that fucked up that day. Don’t shoulder all of that on your own. God knows we’ve all made enough mistakes over the course of our lives, can’t keep beating yourself up for every slight you’ve made.” Not that it was going to stop her from beating herself up about it, but Rhys didn’t need to hear that part.
“I don’t know, I feel like I fucked up pretty bad. Lost my best friend a couple of years ago because I wanted to make things easier for her. Read the room wrong and ended up hurting her instead, it’s probably one of the biggest regrets I’ve ever had.” He turned his head to meet her gaze, eyes full of hurt and regret, yet an ever-present hope lingered behind them regardless. Feyre struggled to keep looking at him without faltering from nerves.
“What a coincidence, I lost my best friend a couple of years ago, too,” Feyre said, a dry chuckle escaping her. “I thought I knew exactly how my life should go and that he was a little bit insane. Pressure from my fiance didn’t help, so I iced him out and now I’m basically at rock bottom. I miss him a lot, but I don’t know if I can get him back. I hurt him pretty badly.”
“Feyre, I-”
“Rhys, if you’re about to apologise, I don’t want you to because you shouldn’t have to. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want to be friends or didn’t ever want to see me again after this-”
Before she could continue, Rhys’ hand darted out to grab a hold of both of her own, folded in her lap anxiously until he had bridged the gap between them.
“Feyre, I can’t imagine a world where we’re not in each other’s lives. Living through it was hell, and I’d rather die than experience that again.”
She could feel the dam of emotions she’d been holding inside of her heart begin to crack, tears welling up until they spilled over her cheeks and Rhysand was pulling her into his side, legs pressed together as they gave each other the first hug they’d shared in two whole years. Feyre’s arms squeezed around his waist like her life depended on it, his arms wrapped around hers like a comforting blanket. Like home.
“I missed you so fucking much, Rhys. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, if I’m not allowed to apologise right now, neither are you.” Amusement had snuck into Rhys’ voice, and despite her tears and sniffles she couldn’t help but laugh a little. As her head moved to his shoulder, he moved his own head to rest on hers. Relief and catharsis thrummed through her veins all the way through to her toes.
“God, we’re fucking idiots. I can’t believe we let this go on for so long.”
“Tell me about it. I have no fucking clue what you’ve even been up to for the past two years.”
Feyre broke from the hug, wiping at her eyes with a small frown on her face as she sat up. “Wait, not even from Mor or anybody else..?”
“Not a peep. You said you wanted space, so I tried to respect your privacy.”
She couldn’t help but wheeze dryly a little at that. “So you don’t know? NIce of you to be so chivalrous, but even I’m surprised this didn’t get back to you. Fucking hell, okay.”
Confusion contorted Rhys’s features. “Feyre, I can’t emphasise enough how much I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A tense moment of silence passed between them, Feyre taking a breath as she let the pause hang in the air for just a moment.
“...Tamlin and I split up. Probably about six months ago, now. Wasn’t exactly amicable to say the least.”
His hand came to rest on her shoulder softly. “Oh Feyre, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend to be sad about it. I know how much everyone else couldn’t stand him.”
“I mean… Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy. Run me through the past two years, tell me how this happened. We have a lot to catch up on anyway, right?”
“That's true. Were you after the full spiel or the summarised version?” She laughed slightly as she turned to him with a small smile. It was nice to be able to sit with him again, feeling at ease for the first time in a long while.
“Whatever you're willing to give me.”
“Well,” Feyre started dramatically, placing her hand over his on his knee. “About six months after we saw each other last, Tamlin and I ended up moving to Seattle so he could do… Business bullshit, I don't know. He very deliberately never involved me in the brewery stuff more than I needed to be, which was usually just as a pretty little toy. I mean, at the time I felt so special, y'know? All these trips, the move, the dresses. Really, it was the smaller things that got me - the food, the comfort. Things that I had to work for before. He told me so many wonderful things and that I was soooo perfect, so it was easy enough to fall into.
“It was kind of a whole ‘boiling a frog’ situation. He would make me feel so safe and loved before slowly coaxing me to do different stuff. Tamlin certainly didn't like me talking to you before all of this.”
“Of course, it's hard not to be intimidated by all this latent natural charm.” Rhys postured, fussing with his collar in a flair of dramatics that made the both of them giggle like they were back to being kids again.
“Of course! But, haha, he definitely wasn't enthused. So he let up for a bit after that. But soon it was getting me to dress up a little more each and every day, even when I was ducking out to get groceries or something. Phasing out things that we had in the pantry or the fridge - snacks would go missing, judging looks, shit like that. Then about a year ago we moved. It got worse after that.
“Literally the only people I knew after we moved were Tamlin and Lucien. Even Lucien didn't wanna be around him more than he had to by the end of things because it was getting unbearable. He could dress how he wanted, eat how he wanted, act how he wanted. He'd be perfectly content. But the minute I questioned things, it was like a fucking heel turn. Sometimes asking who he was on the phone with prompted him to start blaming all his problems on me. Telling me I was nothing but a piece of shit who made him feel depressed and awful. Every time I stepped out of line in his eyes he just got… angrier. Never hit me or anything, but fuck, I think he got close some days.”
She felt his hand on her shoulder tug her in close once more - the warm tears spilled reluctantly down her cheeks, though she'd be lying if she said she was surprised she was crying about it. The only other person who had heard about it until now was the therapist Lucien and her sisters had all pitched in to get her a few sessions with - she didn’t end up sticking with them, though. Not that Feyre hadn’t appreciated the gesture, but she didn’t feel quite ready. But with Rhys? She couldn’t help but spill her guts bare. She gently wiped at her eyes, taking a heavy breath before resuming.
“Anyways, uh… Finally got sick of it a little while after trying to cover up some of the mirrors in the house. I wasn’t painting or drawing anymore, he said that it was a dumb hobby and that it was beneath me. Didn’t have any hobbies anymore, really. No job, either. My entire wardrobe was full of these designer labels and uncomfortable dresses - piles of heels and bags and accessories. Gaudy, flashy jewelry as far as the eye could see. I was so gaunt, I didn’t have any life left in me. I dressed how he wanted, looked how he wanted, talked how he wanted, ate how he wanted. Thought how he wanted me to as well, that I wasn’t worth anything unless I was by his side,” She scoffed slightly, looking up at the sky a little as her head came to rest on Rhysand’s shoulder.
“But I had a kind of lucid moment where I was covering up those mirrors, not wanting to even be here anymore where I was just like, what am I even doing here? I was in such a gilded fucking cage and so sick of it. Tamlin was on one of his rare solo trips at the time so I just… left. Texted Lucien - he’d seen me deteriorating for a while and tried to get me to see things differently before, but it was hard when I was so isolated, y’know? He helped me get all my shit out. Left Tamlin with nothing but a note and that ugly fucking ring. Blocked him on everything. Let Nesta and Elain know, and the rest is history. Been living with Elain back in Prythian since, teaching nighttime painting classes and working as a cashier to try and save up enough money to move out.” Feyre sniffled a little before putting a big smile on her face and turning to Rhys, bringing her hands under her chin to frame it in an effort to lighten the heavy atmosphere. If she didn’t try to take it at least a little less seriously, then she was just going to get in her head about the whole situation all over again, and that’s the last thing she wanted. Not when she had come so far already.
“Shit, Feyre… Can’t say I can beat that in terms of a one-eighty.” Rhys smiled at her slightly, a smidge of sadness mixed with a dose of pride in his stare. She let out a little laugh in turn.
“Hey, go big or go home, right?”
“You never did anything half-assed, that’s for sure.” Rhys took her hand resting upon his knee into both of his, squeezing gently. “I’m just glad you’re happier. That you’re safe. We have plenty of time for all of that ‘I told you so’ type of shit later.”
Feyre simply rolled her eyes, nudging his side with her own. “Thanks, Rhys. But what about you? I can’t just dump all of the ways my life temporarily turned into a tire fire only to not hear about you in return.”
Rhys shuffled a little uncomfortably beside her - he always had trouble when the focus shifted to him in anything more than a surface level, necessary capacity. It was his turn to sigh heavily, looking down at the ground. His head tilted to rest on top of hers, like not a second had passed between when they had been thick as thieves up to now.
“Well, it’s kind of weird. I mean, I’ve done a lot but at the same time not a lot has changed. I’m still close with everybody, especially Cass and Az, but I know that wouldn’t surprise anybody.”
Feyre chuckled slightly. “Well duh, you guys are brothers at this point. It’d be weirder if you weren’t still close.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, the two paused for a moment. There was a sentence unspoken between them that they both knew deep in their bones, hanging in the air like a sword of Damocles - it wouldn’t have been as weird as when the two of them stopped talking. But neither of them needed to tell the other that. That fact was as true as the sky being blue or the grass being green. Rhys broke the tension first, not wanting to linger on it any longer than the two of them had to.
“I ended up leaving Prythian about a year ago, though. Dad had died - he hadn’t been in good health for a while, so nobody was surprised. I finally fully inherited the business instead of just being a figurehead beneath him, but I never really had any interest in it. I did well in my business degree but it just… never quite clicked with me the way I think he hoped it would. It wasn’t exactly a huge emotional loss to me when he went. Ended up selling the whole thing and moving to New York, actually.”
“Makes sense - you always struck me as a city guy.”
“What can I say? I have very particular taste.” The two chuckled in tandem, the warmth of it rumbling through Feyre’s throat and chest.
“But anyway, I actually ended up putting my degree to use and started my own business. I picked up tailoring and design from Mom way back when and I always enjoyed it, so why not, right? It felt good - feels good - to still have that connection to her. Started out just selling stuff online before I moved into some actual brick and mortar stores. There’s not a lot, but they’re going well at least.”
Feyre sat up, surprise and delight written all over her face at the news. “Holy shit, that’s amazing Rhys! I’m so proud of you - ‘not much has changed’ my ass! You’re like a big business mogul now.”
Rhys raised his eyebrows at her. “Feyre, I’m literally just a small business owner.”
“Yeah, now, but you’ve always been ambitious. You’re gonna be some thriving CEO type in no time.”
“Sure, whatever you say, Archeron.” Rhys smirked, mussing up Feyre’s hair a little while taking care to make sure the silver rings he wore didn’t catch in the strands. She didn’t hesitate to mess his own hair up in return, mock offense spreading over his features before melting into a laugh.
“But seriously, I meant it when I said not much has changed, in a way. I live in a new place now and I’ve got a business going, but I still talk to the same people. I don’t go out much, I’m a pretty big homebody unless it’s for any of our inner circle. It all feels so… the same. But not, if that makes sense.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I get that.” With that, Feyre pushed up and off of the stairs, brushing down the back of her dress and cardigan to neaten them up as she stood. She turned to Rhys, reaching a hand out to help him up. It was a handy excuse to touch him again anyway, to feel some of the closeness she had been missing for so long.
Sitting and talking with Rhys so casually felt like a puzzle piece she didn’t entirely realise had gone missing clicked back into place. Everything felt so right and comfortable - like her world had been spinning on a slightly wrong angle, only to be righted with a gentle touch again. He took the hand she offered as he stood up - not that he needed the help. Rhys looked down at her with something that Feyre couldn’t quite pick, something between reverence and relief. She would take either. It didn’t matter so long as they could be in each other’s lives again.
“C’mon, we should head to the wake. If we’re overly late, I think Nesta might lose it a little.” Feyre cocked her head in the direction of her car, a small black thing in the back corner of the parking lot.
“...As in, we go to the wake together?” He almost looked like a lost puppy as he posed the question. Feyre rolled her eyes with a little smile and dragged him by the arm towards her car.
“No shit. You’re my best friend, and I’ve missed you. I’m not gonna have you wasting money on an Uber when we could spend more time catching up on the way there. If I can’t spend my days beating myself up for shutting you out, then I can at least make the most of letting you back in.”
Rhys nodded almost dumbly as he climbed into the passenger seat, looking over at Feyre as the two buckled themselves into the car.
“...I’d really love that, Feyre. I’ve missed you too.”
The feeling that washed over Feyre’s bones was something that she didn’t think could ever be beat - that things would work out and be okay after all, in the end.
#feysand#rhysand x feyre archeron#fanfiction#rhysand#feyre archeron#acotar#acotar fanfiction#friends to lovers
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I was reading terrible things about Sansa Stark and now my blood is boiling. How could people HATE an 11 yr old child who has absolutely no control over her own life. They went as far as to saying the mountain-clan will kidnap her and she will marry Timit!!!!😳
They also say Sansa will remain in the Vale until the end of the last book, but have no objections to Arya and Dany on a revenge killing spree. And for God's sake don't mention Sansa with Jon. They absolutely go INSANE, saying Dany and Jon will save humanity. Dany can't save anyone if she is killing millions of people and burning others alive.
Sansa will kill LF with the help of Timit is what they say and OHHH, Jon will marry Val. How TF can Val be QINT when she is a wilding and no real princess. She looks the part as Jon says, but we ALL know what kind of woman Jon REALLY CRAVE. A high born willowy creature who brushes her hair waiting for some knight to save her.
Jon craves Sansa Stark aNd I personally believe he always HAVE. My response to "these idiots was this: (and I could be wrong) but who knows.
Alyas Karstark was a red herring. Sansa is definitely the girl in grey. Miranda also has a grey cloak that went missing and WHY would Miranda mention Jon being LC to Sansa? There is a reason for all of that. Just like Arya and Jon were to fall in love in original version, it's going to be Sansa and Jon.
Jon even says he has no sister (,5Never considered Sansa a sister) he then says “my half sister truly” (that's what he and Sansa referred to each other as) He mistakes Melsandra for Ygritte, and says all robes are GREY in the dark, yet suddenly hers were RED. Martin is a hell of a writer, and I was in denial about Sansa being the grey girl as well. Not anymore.
Sansa is getting the hell out of the Vale. There will be no kidnapping from mointain-clans or falling in love with a secondary character such as Timit. What sense would that even make? Some people act as if Sansa doesn't matter, or she is some side character when she has one of the most tragic SAD stories in the whole series. She is scared and do whatever she has to do to survive, even if it means allowing LF to kiss her and molest her in which she has NO CONTROL over. It also blows my mind how people were “shipping” (and I hate that word) Sansa Stark and the HOUND of all monsters. Sansa has had 4 FALE BEASTS in her life. Joffery, Tyrion, The Hound, and LF. These men are evil and takes advantage of a young lonely 11 yr old girl who has been captured like a butterfly in a Jar. They are evil, YES; BUT they are NOT the real BEAST.
The real BEAST is Jon Snow. As we know, Jon was already a bit ruthless before the stabbings. (I do not think Jon died that night) For ONE: We need to think about the SNOW and hypothermia which can save the lives of people who are bleeding by knife wound or gunshot would. It's simple Science. Will Jon be on the brink of death and have a Near death experience? YES. There will be a lot of chaos at Castle Black and the wildings are very loyal to Jon. Eventually they will be ruling the wall while Jon recovers along with a few other loyal CROWS that love and respect Jon.
Master Ameon had a dragon dream when him, Gilly and Sam sailed off. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to tell Jon Snow that “ the cold preserves.” A fan asked GRRM about Jon's resurrection, and Martin said, “You think Jon is dead do you?” Maybe he was toying around, but everyone automatically assumed he DIED when there is absolutely NO EVIDENCE.
“He never felt the 4 knife only the cold” How do we even know there was a 4th knife or any other knives afterwards? Why was Jon’s hand clumsy when he tried to pull his sword out? Did they drug him? Why was Ghost acting hostile before the stabbings? Of course Ghost knew what was up. There is no telling who is involved in the attempt on Jon's life. Melsandra told him to watch the ones who smile in his face while they sharpen their daggers. I don't even rule Satin out, as Ive said many, many times.
On the show, Ollie was Satin in my opinion. They did not want to give it away. Back to Jon and Sansa and a few other things. First I want to say, Melsandra will definitely burn Shrinee thinking Stannis is actually dead. She will play absolutely NO PART in bringing Jon back from his “coma”. It's going to be Jon's wolf who saves him and release his soul back into his body, and Ghost will die, also sliding his shadow into Jon because Jon IS GHOST.
He will definitely be a beast and he will not be the same Jon as we know him. This is where Sansa Stark ( girl in grey) will come along and temper Jon just like she did the hound. They will eventually work together and fall in love and struggle with these feelings because keep in mind, Jon and Sansa does not know each other AT ALL. Yes, he will welcome her in open arms and be extremely protective of her, and yes they will fight while trying to get their home back or when they have to rebuild Winterfell together. (The blood of Winterfell)
Sansa Stark is destined to go North because she is the only one out of all the Stark children who has her wolf buried at Winterfell, and as Melsandra like to say: “the bones remember"
#jon snow#jonsa#jon x sansa#sansa stark#jonsa meta#girl in grey#jon x sansa meta#i dont think jon died the boy in him did#jon is in a coma like bran and will warg ghost
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