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netherfeildren · 9 months

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Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .Epilogue

Series Masterlist

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Here we find ourselves again at the end of another story, and I just need to say a quick thing to you all who have been so incredibly kind and supportive and lovely to me throughout this. It has always been difficult for me to talk about myself and the things I feel, and a large part of why I began this writing thing was that I’ve felt for a while now that my life was stagnant and myself without growth or change, and I didn’t really know how to fix it, but I knew that I wanted to do something or say something, and writing fan fiction may seem like a frivolous sort of avenue to achieve those things, but what you all have given me, and the warmth and support you all have welcomed me with, cannot be compared to anything else I’ve experienced thus. Quite simply, you all have been so fucking nice to me, and you can’t know what it means to me or how grateful I am for it. So really that’s all I want to say which is a million times thank you, and I appreciate you all so much, and I hope I can continue to write for you for a long time to come.

Artwork is Cloud Nine by Amy Beager (2021)

Word Count: 1.3K

Read on AO3

.Epilogue

A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.

Joan Didion, The White Album

I had a dream recently: we’re in my grandmother’s house, and I don’t know what it means, but we’re together. You’ll never be able to know my parents, and even though my grandmother passed years ago, you get to meet her here – she was always kind to me, here in this place where only I make the rules. She cooks us a meal, we say grace, and she tells you how happy she is that we've found each other. At night, tucked away into her guest bedroom together, you don’t fit in her little shower, head knocking against the spout because you’re too tall. Too big for this world. We huddle into the little double bed together in the dark afterwards, lace edged pillows scratchy and smelling faintly of moths and roses, and we laugh and press together tightly and whisper into each other’s ears.

I don't know what it means, but I know we’re together. My mother never told me to be what I wanted, but I did so anyway. I chose to live. Now I am here with you.

“I have something for you,” he says one late summer evening. The two of you are sitting on the back porch, watching Sarah run around with the new puppy he’d brought home for her earlier in the week. The air, warm and muggy, the sound of cicadas sounding like the symphony of summertime. It is a small, velvet lined black box, and when you open it, a spool of thread lies within.

Faithlessness is escaped like this: “The first time I got married, it was out of necessity, obligation, a wish for something good or right. It seemed like the right step, the right thing to do, but I think you and I– we know what we are to each other. We have always known – even when we could not yet say it. This is a conscious act, us loving one another, an act of will – out of desire or necessity, even, or perhaps – a necessity for each other – but still, we are an act of will together.”

He takes the spool then, and makes a loop of the thread around your ring finger – then ties a little knot around you. Now you are caught.

“I thought I always had to stick by my decisions until the end, but change is only natural, it’s the intent behind your decisions, I think, that’s what really counts. We’ve learned much about intent together, haven’t we? And you and I, we have always been us – from the very first moment. There was a thread that connected us.” And you cannot speak, for there are tears streaming down your face and flooding your throat, battling with your very heart that’s lodged there too, but you nod anyway.

He pulls his hand back and lets the spool unravel, when he uncurls his fingers a diamond ring slides down the thread and onto your waiting hand.

“You and I – we’re connected,” he says. “Every day we become more entwined. And I want us to stay like this for the rest of our lives. Every day more and more. Will you marry me?” And it is not so much a question, but a promise.

“Yes,” you tell him. Of course you will be his wife. “Of course, I will.” He kisses you.

You wake one lazy Sunday morning, months and months of happiness later, your head anchored over his heart. Warm and soft and surrounded by him, you open your eyes to take in the sight of your hand laying over his heart, the gleam of your engagement ring sparkling in the sun. You stretch your legs and listen to the creak in your knee, and when you shift to turn your face up to him, he’s already looking down at you.

“My love, it’s almost noon,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to your eyelid.

Your eyes are so heavy, your head drowsy, “‘M so sleepy, dunno why…” You burrow further back into his chest, yawning.

“No?” he nuzzles the crown of your head, hand creeping around to cup your breast and gently drag his thumb back and forth across your nipple

“I had a dream we had a baby,” you mumble, voice full of sleep.

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” you say through another yawn.

“Hmm…” He shifts up on his elbow over you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, another over the curve of your ear. You roll into him, hiding your face under his jaw and breathing in his smell, sleep and musk and Joel. “What was it like?” he asks softly, dragging his hand down the length of your spine. “Tell me.”

“It was perfect. She was perfect.”

“She?”

You hum, “Little baby girl…”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then the tolling of the bell: “Your period’s three weeks late, sweet girl,” he whispers into your ear, shares the secret with you, nuzzles into the crook of your neck. His palm sweeps over your belly, and you freeze at his words, thinking back, trying to count days, finally snapping truly awake.

“What? Why– why didn’t you say anything?”

A deep sound hums in his chest as his hand sneaks over your hip to clutch a handful of your ass, and then to cup between your legs, pressing his growing erection into the apex of your thighs.“Thought you’d want to come to it on your own.” He kisses the tip of your breast over your soft, lace camisole.

You don’t cry anymore, or, well, at least not as often as you once did. A constant well of tears ready to spill over at any moment. No longer a weeper, in a long line of weepers. There’s just too much happiness for that now.

But you cry now, at this, you can’t help yourself. The feeling of this, the idea of the two of you coming together to make your own little person, a sibling for Sarah, it’s a call for happiness of the highest order, like nothing else that’s ever come before it. He holds you in his arms, kisses you deep and wet, and as he licks into your mouth, you feel his own tears slide along your cheeks, intertwine with your own.

He finds the two of you singing and dancing to Shania Twain in the family room, Sarah’s own special, revised version, one afternoon. Bumping hips, and then clutching hands to spin Sarah away from your body, and then twirl her back in, squeezing her tight in your arms, picking her up to spin around with her yourself as the two of you sing at each other.

His daughter catches him spying over your shoulder, “Daddy, come dance with us!” and you turn, gracing him with the sight of your gorgeous smile, as he comes over to wrap his arms around the two of you, relieving you of her weight. He anchors a hand to the small of your back to steady you, feeling the small swell of your belly press into his pelvis. Let me let you in on a secret, Shania sings.

“You wanna hear it?” you tease. How to treat a woman right.

“Don’t I know already?”

You sway in his arms and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head, Sarah’s little palm is on his cheek, tugging at his beard, spin us, Daddy, spin us!

“Yeah, baby, you do. Like no one else.” He kisses you, and the three of you spin together, around and around. You’ll see love is gonna play its part.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#someone's fic #Joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller x female reader #Joel Miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller/you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic

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dreamingsnowflake2013 · 1 year

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The team of My Beautiful Man has done it again and delivered another sublime season of Hira and Kiyo’s love story. It all comes down to the fact that even after 3 years Hira is still Hira and Kiyoi is still Kiyoi and the show, despite its short running time, is wonderful at showing that personalities are deeply ingrained and not something that changes overnight or over a course of a few months. They have both made baby steps over the years at overcoming their shortcomings, Kiyoi has become more daring, trying hard to curb his own shyness and the resulting arrogant and cold behaviour, while Hira has dared to come out of his shell a little bit more, even his stammer has reduced, proving that they are indeed good for each other despite their flaws and insecurities. However, Hira’s tendency of self-loathing and inferiority complex is something he’s had for 20+ years and is an inherent part of him, it’s not something that would just miraculously disappear with the power of love. And My Beautiful Man portrays this painstakingly slow process and journey to change in a very realistic and authentic way.

The beautiful thing is that Kiyoi doesn't even want Hira to change, he loves him the way he is which is really what the first episode was all about, that he sees past Hira’s awkwardness and sees how gorgeous Hira truly is, appreciates him and adores everything about him.

He just wants to be loved by him, only by him, he is fine being worshipped by everyone else, and even though that worship had been what made him attracted to Hira, for a long time now, he has wanted to be Hira’s equal, giving Hira the time and space to slowly gain the confidence while he was trying to make himself more emotionally available and became softer so Hira would feel more comfortable with him. He’s been hoping for it with every fibre of his being for years and witnessing all his hopes dashed literally shatters him.

The confrontation scene in episode three is really a direct parallel to the emotional argument in season 1, two scenes which set up the climax of each season. All those little disappointments Kiyoi has been bottling up over time come to a breaking point.

It hurts even more because he's had expectations, the hope when Hira mentions he hated calling him ‘his friend’ lits up his whole face, expecting to finally get to hear from Hira what he's always desired and craved for so long, a love confession where he would admit them being lovers, equals, only to be disappointed and feeling gut-wrenching pain as the result.

He swallows it at first despite the excruciating pain, like he must have done many times before, but Hira denying him to be part of his life, cutting him away from his parents, who Hira obviously loves in his own weird way judging from his story about the shrimp croquettes, which Kiyoi knows, it truly breaks him his heart, revealing that HE DOESN’T WANT TO MERELY BE HIRA’S LOVER, HE WANTS TO BE HIS FAMILY; something enduring and lasting, something eternal, wishing to gain what he had lost as a child and was robbed of when his mother found a new family and neglected him.

He wants to by tied to Hira for life because whether you like ir not, family ties are unbreakable connections. He’s being seeking it for most of his life but Hira’s words make him realise Hira has been denying him that very thing and there is a part of Hira’s life he can’t be a part of; he feels sheer horror and heartache when he finds him he is still on the pedestal, stuck on the very same place where Hira had placed him 5 years ago and which he hates so much. Not a lover, not a spouse, not family member, only an untouchable rock, but rocks don’t have a heart to break nor do they weep like a willow when it’s shattering.

And yet despite his words, in a beautifully symbolic gesture, Hira tries to touch his star and tries to wipe away his tears only for him to push him away now.

Finally, the director of My Beautiful Man is truly awesome at portraying all these emotionally-charged scenes and making them 100% authentic, it’s unreal how raw, intense and realistic everything feels, almost like a documentary where the audience is allowed a voyeuristic peek at a couple’s most intimate moments.

There is no distracting music to destroy the moment, which is where most of Thai BL dramas usually fail and ruin the scene, here, the director lets the script and the actors do the talking and the result is simply beautiful.

#my beautiful man #utsukushii kare #yagi yusei #hagiwara riku #jdrama

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hometothecanyonmoon · 1 year

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in all seriousness, i can’t believe we just. get to have a show like nlmg. like. for free. we get to see this insanely talented director, venturing into a new space but still killing it. we get to see these wonderful (new) actors who deserve the world. we get to see a show that is so refreshing, so beautiful, so well-written, so gut-wrenching, heartbreaking, so so carefully written. i can feel the hard work that has gone into making this what it is now. the efforts they’re taking for every small scene, working on the action scenes for hours and hours, every tiny detail, every angle, every meaning the lighting holds, every small prop, i’m just . speechless. a show that has a plot that is not such a new concept. it’s the same yet so different in such subtly meaningful, complex ways. it’s treated so well, so respectfully. the clichés are not because of lazy writing - they’re to drive harder the point that this show is different. it feels so fresh. every cliché is followed by a completely unexpected moment. the characters are so strong, so perfectly executed, it’s excellent how well the show understands them and how well they are portrayed to us, through pov switches, so that we can understand them just as well. no decision is out-of-character, it fits perfectly with their personality, with their motivations, with their upbringing and their needs and wants and self-perception. every micro-expression has me clutching my heart. THE ACTING. the cinematography, the choreography, the OST, the moody filter that ties the whole thing together, the actions taken by every single character, it’s fucking phenomenal. the way first time teen love is represented so perfectly, especially in a situation that is arguably harder than most teens’. the messy, angry, imperfect, jealous love, marred by forces out of their control, with no other way out than to make it through. with lots of hurting each other, lying, both to yourself and to people you love the most. the angst, the frustration, the little stolen moments that mean so much, every single glance, every single touch, every single action that makes your heart race. the exhilaration, the awkward flirting, the feeling of being loved (back!!!). i literally can’t believe p’jojo is just so incredible and we are given access to this beautiful show unrestricted - it feels like a privilege. i feel so lucky i’m alive to watch this show as it unfolds slowly, that i’m able to partake in analyses, that i can experience this whole process. it’s going to fundamentally change me and i can’t wait to see how it goes. i have so much faith in them doing justice to the director’s vision, to the actors, and most importantly to the characters. what really makes me weak is the fact that p’jojo literally said that it’s not an action series - it’s a romantic drama where the love story is the main plot: that regardless of their circumstances, their parents, their social classes, their roles, their dynamics, the only thing that matters is that they love each other, period. everything else is secondary. palm and nueng love each other, and everything else comes after that. at the heart of it, it’s just two 18-year olds in love. this has even been proven in ep4 where palm is translating mandarin words - love, social classes and separation. the order in which they are presented itself is a direct emphasis on what the show is really about. in short never let me go is an excellent show, possibly the best show i’ve found recently, and you should go watch it on gmmtv’s youtube channel. thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#i cried writing this #sorry not sorry #never let me go #aaaaa i think enough breakdowns for a day

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mirageofadesert · 1 year

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Album Review: FACE by Jimin

As a “Lie”-Enthusiast, this album is everything I ever wanted – but even darker than I could have imagined. Song by song, the album tells a story, that- without the full English translation- I’m only beginning to grasp. The songs seem to reference each other, both musically and lyrically, making this a very cohesive albums all around.

What makes this one of my favorite BTS releases, is that this cohesiveness is going beyond just the songs itself, but is reflected in the concept as well. Every teaser, every video and photo we got ties in with an elaborate and complex concept, that relies on multilayered symbolism. It gives FACE so much depth. As a theory ARMY at heart, this is everything! This is what got me in BTS in the first place and I could not be happier with this album.

Face-off: The first notes threw me for a loop, but the switch up set the mood for the following album: Sinister, emotional and full of despair. However, there is also a hint of anger and fight. The song is absolutely heart-wrenching beautiful and I think it might turn into my favorite. I love the progression of different vocal styles, from high breathy and flowy parts to angry shouts and even rap, that deliver the emotions of the song masterfully.

Interlude: Dive is not a song in the typical sense, rather than different sound pieces layered over an instrumental. I hope we will get an video for this, to really understand what is going on. I recognized Jimin’s trembling breathing, his introduction ment as well as him pouring liquid and drinking in the end.

Like Crazy: Jimin’s smooth vocals over the soft synth track are magic! It really plays tribute to the 80s synth music. The song makes me want’s to dance and cry at the same time. There is an edge in Jimin’s voice, which makes this one of my favorite BTS-related tracks of all time. And while Jimin sings, that this is going to break him, I feel it as well. The song is beautiful from start to finish and leaves you with an empty, hallow feeling, that can only be counteredby listening to the song over and over again.

Alone is a beautiful (pop-)ballad. Jimin’s deeper register really shines in this songs. The song is completely in Korean, so I can’t say much about the lyrics yet.

Set Me Free: After listening to the whole album, this is the most important song! Not only does it reference the lyrics of the songs before it (e.g. Hennessey at night being a reference to Face-off), it also interrupts the dark album, bringing a glimmer of hope and freedom. Without this song, this album would have broken me.

The hidden track (CD only) – It seems to be message/song to the members. It’s soft, breathy and beautiful! The little “oh-oh” are everything! I’m can’t wait to find out, what he is singing and if that relates to why Jungkook is doing backup vocals. Their voices go so well together. If your favorite Jimin songs are Promise or Serendipity, this might be the song for you!

Album packaging: Like I had hoped, the surface of the album is reflecting, working asa mirror, in which you face yourself. The concept of this whole release is so detailed and well thought out! The pictures are beautiful and we finally got a good view of all his tattoos! The quality of the photobook and the photo cards are great as well.

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memryse · 3 years

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The magic of 3rd Life, or why such a simple hardcore miniseries works as well as it does

For a series which only lasted for eight sessions, 3rd Life has had a profound impact on the MCYT fandom. While it did go comparatively unnoticed on Twitter (as is consistent with YouTube-based Minecraft content as a whole, admittedly), Tumblr and other platforms have fallen in love with this series, and it’s become a vector for many fans to familiarise themselves with Hermitcraft and Empires SMP as well. But at its core, 3rd Life is a simple vanilla survival series with a gimmick. What about it resonates so much with so many people?

I would argue that its simplicity, its small cast, its vanilla gameplay “with a twist” is certainly part of it. It’s an easy series to consume, with many POVs totalling four hours or less, and it doesn’t require any prior knowledge of any of the members. Its mechanics are easy to understand. As a standalone, it functions perfectly – it’s immersive and can be followed easily by anyone, regardless of any prior knowledge they may or may not have. However, these factors alone don’t quite encompass what makes 3rd Life so special. Its true charm point lies in the format of the series, and how well it utilises improv.

[more below the cut; this is a fairly long post about 3rd/Last Life meta and my love of its improv. I'm mostly talking about 3rd Life here as it's a completed series, but this most definitely does apply to Last Life as well]

3rd Life is an entirely improv-based series. Whilst members may have a brief concept of the direction they’d like to take their series in – how heavily they want to roleplay, for example – the actual content of each session is fully improvised. Each episode is recorded in one three-hour block, and members are not allowed to play on the server outside of the allotted time other than specifically to finish builds. This time constraint prevents any planning from going into each episode, and interactions between players are completely spontaneous. Players simply run around the map looking for others to interact with (which is significantly easier with the limited world border) and chat about various events on the server, form alliances or deals, etc.

By definition, this almost completely negates the possibility of bad writing. Each player’s reaction to any server event is spontaneous, a legitimate reaction; they aren’t trying to play any specific roles or shoehorn in any specific events (with the exception of the Red King/Hand of the King roles, who were still completely improvising). Even the finale – a distinctly heart-wrenching and tragic scene – was improvised without Grian or Scar attempting to tell any specific story. According to Martyn, they weren’t roleplaying, they didn’t have any aims with that scene. It just happened to turn out in the way that it did, and they were legitimately sorry to one another. The server progressed in this natural way, and every person’s perspective tells a completely different story. It’s hard to identify any specific heroes or villains – fans of the Dream SMP can surely relate to this feeling, but I would argue that 3rd Life takes this one step further. 3rd Life is a tragedy from all perspectives, a tragedy which tells one cohesive story in its entirety before stopping as abruptly as it began.

3rd Life hinges entirely on its interactions between its members. Whilst solo content does exist – base building, for example – the majority of each session is spent interacting with others. 3rd Life is carried by its dialogue; nothing else drives the story, and yet many episodes are between 30 minutes and an hour long. It’s that dialogue-heavy. Members of the server have expressed trouble with even editing their videos because there is so much key dialogue that they don’t want to cut. People don’t watch 3rd Life for the actual gameplay, at all – there’s so little of it! They watch it for how each member interacts with the people around them. This is something not found in any other SMP I’ve encountered. SMPs livestreamed on Twitch have plenty of downtime, and people will happily watch streams on that SMP no matter what’s occurring on the server; people often watch them for their interest in specific members. Other currently popular YouTube SMPs, namely Hermitcraft and Empires, are well-balanced between solo content and interactions, and all server content hinges on the members’ various skills like building and redstone. 3rd Life is, to my knowledge, the only SMP which does not rely on building or redstone skills (what’s the point, when they’ll be dead the next week?), it doesn’t rely on the creator doing solo work talking to their chat, it doesn’t rely on planned roleplay. People legitimately just want to hear various members talking to each other. It’s a fascinatingly unique series in this regard. This dialogue-heavy aspect of 3rd Life ties back to my earlier point about 3rd Life feeling like a completely different series from all perspectives; with all of this dialogue being conveyed through proximity chat, so many events are entirely left out of other POVs, or presented in very different lights.

The pure improv format also helps significantly with worldbuilding, whilst also leaving plenty to the imagination. MCYT fandoms always require a significant amount of imagination to become invested in them, let alone make fan content of them, and 3rd Life is no exception to this. As discussed in this post, which was incidentally the inspiration for me to write this one, 3rdLife is full of lines which flesh out the series, which illustrate what happened better than can be shown in Minecraft. These lines are improvised on the spot, and are often complete throwaway lines in the creators’ eyes. In the fans’ eyes, they make 3rd Life feel alive, they provide plenty of material on which to base headcanons. Again, this isn’t necessarily unique to 3rd Life, it’s a common aspect of all Minecraft series, but I think this is where the rather angsty nature of 3rd Life comes into play. A dramatic survival game, entirely unscripted, with all events hinging entirely on your interpretation of them? It’s not hard to see why 3rd Life fans are so creative with character designs and fanfiction – hell, a lot of 3rd Life fics simply narrate canon in their own more dramatic light. Canon-compliant fics are significantly more common for 3rd Life than other fandoms I've encountered, because people hear these simple lines and want to dramatise them, put their own spins on them. I don't feel that this would be possible with any other series, not to the extent that 3rd Life fans do it. Other series' canon is either already dramatic, and so rehashing it can feel repetitive, or so lighthearted that people write AUs/new storylines. 3rd Life strikes a brand-new balance.

The development of its characters is also bolstered by improv. As no events on the server are pre-planned, members have to react completely spontaneously to anything that occurs. They don’t get time to think – only to react as though they genuinely were in that situation. As I said at the start, 3rd Life inherently lacks bad writing, because it’s not written. Ren, for instance, began 3rd Life as a kind and harmless person, with others often walking right over him. His reaction to his death by Grian and Scar’s trap spurs him to become the Red King; he raises an army and goes to war, and ends the series having taken countless lives, becoming hardened by war. He begins Last Life by isolating himself from others, seeming jaded and unwilling to form alliances, ready for another war to break out. Being improvised, it’s impossible to say how much of this was deliberate, or if Ren just started building his base without thinking about continuity from the previous season. This improv is what makes it feel so natural. It isn’t planned beforehand. This is Ren’s natural reaction to starting Last Life. It makes his character feel so much more real than it would if this was all scripted beforehand.

3rd Life is, overall, a testament to the power of improv. It manages to be compelling and dramatic without any acting feeling forced or wooden. Its characters’ arcs feel natural, because they are natural. Placing such a heavy emphasis on dialogue, with the gimmick of the server being a vehicle for interactions to happen rather than the sole appeal of the series, makes it truly feel as though we’re getting a glimpse into the characters’ lives, rather than watching a story which has been written beforehand. We get to watch everything unfold in real time. 3rd Life has a magic to it that, to my knowledge, no other SMP has been able to recreate.

#3rd life smp #last life smp #trafficblr #mae analyses #THIS IS REALLY META BUT I JUST <3 I HAVE SO MUCH LOVE FOR HOW WELL 3RD LIFE DOES WHAT IT DOES #THERE'S A *REASON* IT'S SO COMPELLING #it has this different feel to it #one that i've never encountered before because there is NOTHING like 3rd life out there #ohh i love 3rd life a normal and reasonable amount

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yazthebookish · 3 years

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Hello all🧡

Today's post will be a tad heart-wrenching

I'll analyze the story of Helion and Lady of Autumn and their forbidden romance.

There is so much we do not know yet, but I stand by with my assumption that they are 99% mates.

So.. let's get into it!

The first time we learn of their story is in ACOWAR pg. 452.

Helion had looked at the Lady of Autumn repeatedly during the meeting.

The conversation starts out with Hybern and the War. It begins to gradually shift towards Beron and the Autumn Court.

“Will Beron choose to listen to reason, though?” Mor mused. Helion tapped a finger against the carved arm of his couch. “He played games in the War and it cost him—dearly. His people still remember those choices—those losses. His own damn wife remembers.”

So we get the impression that Beron messed up pretty badly in the War 500 years ago. It's what led him to send his children to their other relatives while the Lady of Autumn was sent to stay with her sisters at their manor.

Helion folded an ankle over a knee. “The Lady of the Autumn Court’s two older sisters were indeed …” He searched for a word. “Butchered. Tormented, and then butchered, during the War.”

Helion’s jaw clenched. “The Lady of the Autumn Court was sent to stay with her sisters, her younger children packed off to other relatives. To spread out the bloodline.” He dragged a hand through his sable hair. “Hybern attacked their estate. Her sisters bought her time to run. Not because she was married to Beron, but because they loved each other. Fiercely. She tried to stay, but they convinced her to go. So she did—she ran and ran, but Hybern’s beasts were still faster. Stronger. They cornered her at a ravine, where she became trapped atop a ledge, the beasts snapping at her feet.”

And this leads Feyre to this conclusion...

He didn’t speak for a long moment. Too many details. He knew so many details. I said quietly, “You saved her. You found her, didn’t you?” A coronet of light seemed to flicker over that thick black hair. “I did.” There was enough weight, anger, and something else in those two words that I studied the High Lord of Day.

“What happened?” Helion didn’t break my stare. “I tore the beasts apart with my bare hands.” A chill slid down my spine. “Why?” He could have ended it a thousand other ways. Easier ways. Cleaner ways. Rhys’s bloody hands after the Ravens’ attack flashed through my mind.

Here is a significant evidence that Helion and Lady of Autumn are mates. The way he killed those beasts reminded even Feyre of Rhys's bloody hands after he killed those Ravens.

Helion didn’t so much as shift in his chair. “She was still young—though she’d been married to that delightful male for nearly two decades. Married too young, the marriage arranged when she was twenty.”

But it was Mor who said coolly, “I heard a rumor once, Helion, that she waited before agreeing to that marriage. For a certain someone who had met her by chance at an equinox ball the year before.”

The fire banked to embers and Helion threw a half smile in Mor’s direction. “Interesting. I heard her family wanted internal ties to power, and that they didn’t give her a choice before they sold her to Beron.”

“Too bad they’re just rumors,” Rhys cut in smoothly, “and can’t be confirmed by anyone.”

Here is some history. Helion and Lady of Autumn likely met at an equinox ball a year before she married Beron. Mor mentions a rumor that Lady of Autumn waited a year before agreeing to marry Beron. Helion seems not to believe that rumor, and simply said her family gave her no choice and they wanted powerful ties.

This here seems to me as if Helion may found resistance in trying to pursue her or got the wrong information about Lady of Autumn. He might not believe that she waited for him. He might believe she simply followed her family's orders.

“Does Beron know you saved his wife in the War?” He hadn’t mentioned anything during the meeting. Helion let out a dark laugh. “Cauldron, no.” There was enough wry, knowing humor that I straightened. “You had—an affair after you rescued her?”

Helion shrugged. “On and off for decades. Until Beron found out. They say the lady was all brightness and smiles before that. And after Beron was through with her … You saw what she is.”

After being married to Beron for 20 years, her and Helion's affair started sometime during the War after he rescued her. It was an on and off affair for decades. We can assume that she had already had her six children by then or was still giving birth to her other children despite her and Helion's affair.

Though my question here is:

How did Helion know where Lady of Autumn was that he had to move and rescue her? Aren't her sisters' mansion is located within the Autumn Court's borders? Where did they go after he rescued her?

“What did he do to her?” “The same things he does now.” Helion waved a hand. “Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them.” I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face. “Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.”

We do not know whether Helion was already a High Lord back then or not (likely). Feyre hit him with the hardest (why didn't you stop it?). His answer emphasized on the word "Chose". We could assume that Helion offered her to live with him, but instead Lady of Autumn chose to go back to Beron for her children. She was also pregnant with Lucien at the time so thag also might've prompted her to go back and not cause a political conflict while she's pregnant.

If they are mates it's likely that Lady of Autumn rejected the bond? That explains Helion and his endless supply of lovers. He might've went mad because of the rejection and I can sense anger and hurt in his answer to Feyre.

I didn’t back down, didn’t apologize. “You barely even looked at her today.” “We have more important matters at hand.” “Beron never called you out for it?” “To publicly do so would be to admit that his possession made a fool of him. So we continue our little dance, these centuries later.” I somehow doubted that beneath that roguish charm and irreverence, Helion felt it was a dance at all.

Beron knows about the affair. He made Lady of Autumn suffer. He would've killed Lucien if he couldn't pass him as his own son.

Beron must have discovered the affair when she was pregnant with Lucien. He likely suspected, but there was no way to prove it—not if she was sharing his bed, too. Rhys’s disgust was a tang in my mouth. I have no doubt Beron debated killing her for the betrayal, and even afterward. When Lucien could be passable as his own offspring—just enough to make him doubt who had sired his last son.

But it doesn't end here because...

“What does this mean, though?” “Nothing—ultimately nothing. Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir.”

There is no doubt that this story is far from over. I believe we will learn more of it through Lucien's POV.

I would love to read a novella about Helion and Lady of Autum's forbidden romance. I can feel theirs was full of love, longing and passion.

#acosf #acowar #lucien vanserra #helion #lady of autumn #helion spell cleaver

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pocketfulofrogers · 3 years

Text

To Outlive the Devil

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: A good save and a case practically solved leads to intelligence almost losing one of their own. Can you get out before it’s too late?

Notes: Canon violence, nothing worse than a typically dark episode. This is a past and present cut together story and it’s just shy of 4k.

Now

Your bleary eyes open up to a cold and damp bedroom. An abandoned… apartment? The peeling wallpaper had given way to yellow stained drywall. From the small window on your left, it appeared as if you were several stories in the air, but there were no distinguishable landmarks that told you if you were even still in Chicago.

As you begin to come to your senses more, you feel the thick rope tied around your wrists and ankles. The rough material burns against you skin and you notice you already have sores.

How long have I been here?

Your memory is fuzzy and your head throbbed violently. It isn’t until you shift uncomfortably that you realize it’s a heavy metal chair you’re tied to.

Slowly your body begins to pick up on the danger your muddled brain had managed to identify and your pulse begins to quicken. As much as you try, your heartbeat continues to pound in your head as you try to twist your arms free.

The pain that responds is only a small price to pay for even the chance of freedom. Desperately, you continue to twist and pull until one of the knots manages to loosen up enough for you to squeeze your hand out. It’s just a short sprint to the front door in front of you.

You will your frozen fingers to work faster as you pinch and tear at each knot and then internally scream at your stiff muscles to carry you forward just a little bit more.

When your hand reaches the doorknob and it isn’t locked, relief floods your system. But when you’re able to wrench the door open, the person behind the door barely registers in your mind before everything goes black once again.

Then

Jay leans against his fist on his desk and tries to keep his frustration at bay. They’d been at this for two days straight and had been on the case for the last three months. “That’s two bodies in as many weeks. Is no one else starting to think…”

“That maybe hunting Chicago’s very own Criminal Minds level serial killer couple is out of our depth?” You interrupt, tilting your head towards him. “Doubt it.”

In fact, over the last two weeks, it’s the only thing you could think about. A younger woman named Madison roped, at least you were hoping she wasn’t a willing participant, into a horrific and violent life by a man you had yet to learn the identity of. You’d spent many nights pacing your bedroom, ranting and theorizing to Jay when all he wanted was just a bit of sleep.

The further you dove into it, however, the less hopeful you became for a quick arrest.

Voight had about ripped your head off when you suggested passing the case to the FBI and got to hear the ‘this is our city’ speech once again. But the truth was you were running out of ideas, running out of leads to chase down the rabbit hole, and running out of time.

“I hate to say it, but Voight’s right.” Antonio almost looks pained, but he continues on before you can question him. “The first time these two surfaced five years ago, CPD went full force. They shut it all down, had every uniform pulling overtime, and tried to smoke them out. Instead, it scared them into hiding.”

“Five girls in three months, Dawson, they’re escalating.” You take a breath before looking him in the eyes. “I can’t keep notifying parents.” There’s a certain pang in your voice only those who have had to watch a parent’s life crumble around them can hear. Jay reaches out to squeeze your forearm for just a bit of comfort and you run your fingers over his.

It’s enough.

“Then we end this.” Voight’s eyeing you, sympathetic to where you’re coming from, but not willing to give up yet. “Let’s find these monsters and make them pay.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you nod and turn to Adam. “Ok, let’s go over everything together, see if we can find something we missed.”

“Since it’s all we have, let’s revisit the address on Madison’s unemployment file.” Jay suggests.

Adam looks confused. “The house was condemned last year, torn down in the spring.”

“I know, but what about the name on the house, did anyone look into it?”

“Figured it was a stolen identity.” Kevin pipes up. “Clara Knight, died in 2012 of a heart attack at 66. No other properties in her name.”

“Knight?” Mouse perks up and starts shifting through his files. “I found a few erased emails from a Robert Knight, but I couldn’t find any relation or connection.”

Adam is already typing ferociously. “Got a death certificate for a Robert Knight, 68, died a few months ago. Seems like the guy barely existed.”

“Any children?”

“A daughter.” His face is grim. “Murdered in 99, she was 16.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. “Pull up a picture of her.” You don’t need to see it to confirm what you already feared, but still the image of her face churns your stomach. A beautiful blonde girl with the hope of the whole world in her smile. “He’s been at this a lot longer than anyone thought.”

“Any property still in his name?” Voight asks.

Anxiety rippling through your chest, it feels like an eternity before Mouse nods. “His nephew Isaac put his house in Roseland on a tax form.”

Now

When you come to, the first thing you notice is that your restraints have been changed to zip ties and for a moment you’re concerned about your circulation. You’re worry is cut short by the cup of water on a table to your right, the plastic straw close enough for you to reach it.

The sudden realization of the searing pain in your throat and the cracked skin on your lips lets you know it’s probably been about two days. It’s the dryness of your tongue that overrides every single rational thought of concern that maybe the glass beside you isn’t safe to drink. But, fifteen minutes pass with no incident so whoever it is probably wants to keep you alive.

The thought sends ice down your back.

Alive for what?

“What do you want from me?” You scream into the empty apartment.

Then

“We need a vacation after this.” Jay declares as he leans the seat of the car back a little. “Somewhere warm with water so I can look at you in a tiny bathing suit all day.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the small smile you give before bringing the binoculars up again. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

“Hey lovebirds.” Adam calls over the radio from the car down the street from yours. “Have you seen anything yet or are you too busy staring into each other’s eyes again?”

It’s Jay’s turn to roll his eyes. “Didn’t you just take your third piss break?”

“Hydration is very important.” He defends.

“I told him to wear the diapers.” Alvin adds. Adam tries to defend himself, but you can barely hear him over Kevin’s laughter next to him.

Just then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the movement of a curtain, the flash of blonde hair, and the air shifts. Jay immediately catches the tense set of your shoulders and starts asking questions.

“They’ve got a girl up there.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure? I didn’t see anything.”

You nod and get out of the car despite the hushed protests from Jay as he follows you. To do what? You weren’t sure yet but you had felt so powerless these last few months that maybe you weren’t being the most rational right now.

The curtain moves again and, rather than getting caught, you quickly spin around and push Jay against the car before crashing your lips to his. Other than a noise of shock sounding from the back of his throat, he doesn’t miss a beat.

“North corner window.” You mumble against his lips and slide your hands up his chest, tilting your head to the side to give him a better angle.

When he pulls away, he brings his phone up and looks you in the eye. “We’ve got confirmation on the nephew Isaac, but he’s got another girl up there. If we bust in, he might get spooked and hurt her.”

It’s quiet longer than either of you would like.

“What should we do, boss?” Adam asks for you.

“Do you think you can get in quietly?” Voight asks.

Jay waits for your nod. “We’re on it. Going silent.”

Picking the lock was nothing. Sneaking around a house you know nothing about except for a quick glance at a blueprint from 2005 was the difficult part. Jay splits the two of you up, sending you upstairs while he clears the lower level. Circumstance didn’t allow you the option to argue with him that splitting up in a situation like this is the worst thing to do.

He was your partner and it was your job to always have his back, as difficult as he makes it, but he’s rounded a corner into the living room before you get the chance to cuff him to you.

Your breath catches in your throat when a step on the stairs creak, but you keep moving until you find a girl in the second room you clear. She’s blind folded with on leg tied to the bed. She tenses when you approach, but relaxes once you’ve gotten close enough to whisper who you are.

“Tracey.” She says he name with a whimper and your heart breaks as you cut the rope and take off her blindfold.

When she sees you’re really who you say you are, she throws herself into your arms and begins to cry. There’s nothing more you want to do than to sit here and comfort her, but your ears picks up on a man’s voice you don’t recognize.

“Ok, Tracey, I know you’re so scared, and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I need you to be brave a little longer.” You pull back and look her in the eyes. “My partner and I came in here alone. I need you to tell me where the man and woman who took you are.”

She nods. “I don’t know where she went, she left a while ago. He’s here, downstairs I think, in his office.”

There’s a crash downstairs, the sound of broken glass and your blood runs cold. Immediately, you look for any other way out, but there’s nothing. No balcony, no window, nothing. Voight’s on the radio already, but you silence him.

“Stay directly behind me.” There’s a kind of urgency in your voice that puts her even more on edge.

Creeping down the stairs, you can hear Jay struggling in the kitchen, but it sounds like he’s holding his own.

“Bringing the girl out.” You whisper into your radio and glance back at Tracey. “As soon as we get down, I want you to run to the door. Do not stop. When you get across the street there are people who will help you.” She nods but she looks terrified. “I swear I won’t let him get anywhere near you.”

It’s the door opening that alerts Isaac that something else is going on. You round the corner with your gun drawn and the scene before you makes your knees weak.

Jay is bruised and cut up, struggling against the man behind him, the arm around his neck, the gun pointed at his head.

“She said you were cops, but I told her she was paranoid.” Isaac snarls.

“Madison? Is she here?” You ask, your voice as level as your gun trained on his head. Voight is yelling over the radio, but you tune him out. “I’d love to meet her.”

He snickers and smiles wickedly. “Even if she could be caught, neither of you will be alive long enough to see it.”

He only manages a twitch before you pull the trigger and land a shot right between his eyes.

Jay falls forward, breathing heavy and you rush towards him. “Jay’s hurt!” You call out when the door is broken down. Adam kicks the gun away from the obviously dead suspect and you let them handle the scene.

“Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? I told you it was stupid to split us up! How’s your breathing?” Your hands are frantically searching every inch of his body. He has to grab your hand and grip it tight in his to stop the assault of questions rapid firing from your lips.

He sits up with a groan and kisses your knuckles when he sees the panic on your face. “I’m okay. Because of you it’s just a few cuts and bruises.” He manages a smile and you almost cry right there.

Voight places a hand on your shoulder. “Tracey is on her way to Med. Medics said she’s going to be okay. We’ve got another bus on the way for you. Nice work you two.”

Now

The creak from the front door opening pulls you from a daze and you wince at the sunlight flooding the room. A blonde woman stands before you with a duffle in her left hand and a gun in her right.

She tilts her head to the side. “You’re still alive. What a shame.”

You struggle to focus your eyes from the concussion you’re assuming she must’ve given you. “Maddison.” You croak out. “What are you doing?”

She drops the duffle next to you and grips your hair to pull your head back, pushing the barrel of the gun into your temple.

“I’m going to make you suffer.” She hisses and roughly lets you go. “I tried to warn him that you were watching us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Isaac?”

“Don’t say his name!” She screams and the sound cracks through your skull. “He told me to get some supplies, but when I cam back, I watched from the back window as you murdered him.”

You shake your head and try to reason with her. “Maddison, he was hurting people. He was going to kill my partner.”

“Partner.” She repeats sarcastically. “You mean Jay Halstead, your boyfriend of 3 years?” Maddison moves in front of you to revel in the fear that has filled your eyes and smiles sinisterly. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

You start quickly, the panic in your voice betraying the training you were struggling to hold onto. “If you want to kill me fine, do it. But don’t hurt him, Maddison. Please, he’s done nothing.”

She tsks as she opens the duffle and begins to pull out long metal pieces until finally, a long-barreled shot gun. “Why would I kill you when the alternative is so much better?”

You begin to struggle against the restraints as your mind starts to put together scenario after scenario of awful images. Maddison pays no mind to you begging and pleading to see reason. Instead, she pauses from building some contraption to walk over to you and jam a needle in your neck.

When you come too again, she’s sat casually in front of you. “I thought hitting you in the head again might actually kill you, and that’s not what I’m going for, so… you’re welcome.”

You glance around again and notice the barrel of the shotgun behind you just to the left of your shoulder. “Yeah, thanks.” You deadpan looking back at her. “What’s with the ‘Saw’ set up?”

She raises a brow. “Hold onto that strength while you can.” She points out the wires and hooks running along the floor and ceiling to trace it back to the door in front of you. “I used to be a STEM major. Did you know that?” She doesn’t stop long enough for you to respond. “Turns out I still remember a few things.”

You stare past her towards the door and then look quickly back to the gun, beginning to piece together her plan.

“Yes.” She coos. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking. The first person that opens that door, if he happens to be the right height, will get a life ending shot to the face. And I’d like to ask you what the chances are that anyone other than your boyfriend will be the first through the door.”

None.

For the first time you feel utterly defeated, hopeless. Madison watches closely, soaking in every moment of your anguish.

“Now you’ll know what it feels like.”

Then

You phone buzzes for the fourth time in the last hour. “Yes?”

“He’s actually insufferable, where are you?” Will speaks quickly, his tone seeping in irritation.

You laugh. “April already sent me out to get him food because he was whining so much. I am in route with a burger and some other stuff from his favorite place. Should be there in 15.”

“Thank god.” He says quietly. “Would you give it a rest? She’s 15 out with enough food to hopefully put you in a coma so I don’t have to.” You laugh as Will continues to yell at his brother.

“I almost died! Where’s your compassion?” You hear Jay yell back and only laugh harder

“You have ONE bruised rib and a concussion. I’ve seen high school football players handle worse with less complaining!”

“If it’s not so bad, why won’t you let me leave?!”

“I’m stepping up the pace, be there soon.” You laugh and hang up.

The Chicago night was chilly, but something else causes the hairs on the back of your neck begin to prickle. You don’t stop walking, don’t even pause a single step. Instead, you glance in a shop window and catch the reflection of a woman, a flash of blonde, not too far behind you.

Casually, you switch the bag of food to your other hand, but before you’re able to grab your gun, there’s a pinch in your neck and everything goes black.

Now

Jay had forced his way back to work sooner than anyone recommended. You’d been missing for 5 days. Disappeared with no trace other than your cell phone and a bag of cold diner food spilt on the sidewalk. If it were up to him, he would’ve been at his desk the moment 30 minutes hit and you weren’t there.

Alvin called two hours later telling him what they found and Adam and Antonio had to physically restrain him, Will almost sedated him. Voight promised him that they’d find you, and Jay knew they’d do everything they could, but he needed to be a part of the search.

“Did she have any enemies?” Alvin asks and he doesn’t flinch when Jay begins to laugh sarcastically.

“Any enemies? Do you hear yourself? She had tons. We all do. But let’s stop pretending like her being taken the day we closed that case isn’t connected.”

Alvin tries to sympathize with him. “We have to ask. You know the drill.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Are you seriously going to treat this like any other missing person? It’s Y/N, Al! Y/N!”

“We know.” Voight says from his office door. “I made a few calls, Jay, we know where she is.” For a fraction of a second, Jay is frozen, but the thought of what you could be going through right now moves him. He’s grabbed his jacket and is in the car before anyone else has moved.

“I thought only the CIA had access to things like that.” Adam whispers lowly in the car into Kevin’s ear.

He shrugs. “Do think it’s out of the question that he’d break several constitutional laws to save any one of us?”

Adam sits back in his seat with pursed lips, nodding.

You struggle against the restraints long after Madison leaves you with only a gag in your mouth. The multiple cars pulling up and all the people shouting told you that you were running out of time. As of this very moment, you were locked into your fate of watching the man you loved die.

This was not an option.

The hard plastic digs into your ankles and wrists, your movements quickening with each door you hear them break down. You try to scream, to warn whoever was on this floor that there was a danger they couldn’t possibly see, but your muffled cries wouldn’t carry.

Tears soak the bandana shoved in in your mouth and you try to scream again.

No! Stop! It isn’t safe!

You hear Voight’s voice a few doors down and begin to try and rock the chair back and forth. It was considered heavy for a good day, and today was not that. Having not eaten or really moved in so long had left you weak and foggy. The adrenaline coursing through you veins only aiding a little in your efforts.

The sound of the front door breaking down sends a jolt of energy through you and you send yourself flying in front of the gun just as the bedroom door opens.

Jay raises his weapon at the sound before his brain can register what has happened. His wide eyes find yours just before you’ve hit the ground.

“Y/N!” He screams and rushes towards you. Frantic, shaky hands move quickly to remove the bandana and zip ties before applying pressure to your shoulder. “I need a medic!” He calls franticly over his shoulder, but when he turns back to you, he has to shut down the thought that you might not make it that long.

“You found me.” You try to say, but instead sputter blood onto your cheek.

“Oh, God.” He gasps. “You’re okay, you’re going to be fine.” But the more he says, the less you hear him.

“I love you.” You try to reach out to his face and graze his cheek, but your fingers won’t cooperate and only leave smudges of blood across his skin.

When your breathing starts to quicken and become more raged, he knows time is running out. So, in defiance of the orders and suggestions coming in through his ear piece, he lifts you up to cradle you to him and runs.

An annoying, incessant beeping is the only thing you can hear, but when you move to reach for it, a shooting pain stops you cold. You groan softly and pry your eyes open only to see both Will and Antonio hovering too close to your face.

Will starts to wave a flashlight in your eyes and you push him away. “When was the last time you guys brushed your teeth?”

Antonio chuckles softly and places his hand atop your head, his thumb brushing softly. “We got her.” He says quietly. “She couldn’t help herself. She stayed close to the scene to see the fallout and Kim caught her.”

Will nods his head towards Jay who was sleeping soundly in what you had to imagine was a very uncomfortable position. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him as well as you. Do you want me to wake him?”

You look back over at him and smile before turning back. “Better not. These are the last few moments of peace I’ll get for the next year at least. You would think someone would be a little more grateful towards you for saving their life, but I can already hear how mad he’s going to be.” Only a small part of you is joking.

“Well, I’ll get shot next time and we’ll see how you feel.” Jay’s sleep riddled voice carries from the corner, but he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. “I’ll give you an hour.” He adds before settling back in.

Now that’s the love of my life.

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #Chicago PD #hank voight #antonio dawson #alvin olinsky #Adam Ruzek #kevin atwater

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poltoreveur · 3 years

Text

We Eventually Faded

Pairing : Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary : Sexuality was never the matter in your relationship, but it started to become a problem when Remus had something else to pursue.

Warning : Cheating.

Words count : 1,5k+

A/N : I just randomly started writing and it lead to this. What is with me and writing sad stories.

The gif is not mine. Credits to the owner.

Remus never appreciated how warm you were until he was gone away for the first time and he couldn't buried face into the soft hollow of your neck.

You are the limelight, the light in his otherwise dreary day, and he'll never be able how to articulate how thankful he was for you.

Especially during moments like this.

It was the school’s winter break, with Sirius still crashing the Potter’s resident and Peter doing his own things ━ Remus decided to spend the holidays with you.

But ever since he had arrived, he had acted hostile towards you.

Not muttering a sentence unless it was necessarily, skipping meals and you barely seen him around the manor.

Though this had already been going on even before the school break.

The day he came out as bisexual to the group and came forward about the two of you having a relationship, everyone was absolutely thrilled.

You were the most proudest person besides Remus, that he was finally starting to feel comfortable in his own skin and was truly being himself.

But that happy moment didn’t go without a cost.

You accidentally found him and Sirius in the library, being much more friendlier than they usually were.

At first you didn't question it, because they were already friends before the two of you were a couple but it wasn’t until the day you saw them kissing each other at their usual spot in the library when you couldn’t stand to turn another blind eye.

Since then, your school day were usually content with studying, avoiding each other in the morning until night came then the screaming and fighting come in, but in the end the two of you would always make up and ended up sleeping on Remus’ bed before you go back to same routine again.

So when the time Remus asked if he could stay with you for the holidays, you were staggered with his request.

Not only you both had not been seeing each other for the past few days, the rumours of him and Sirius cheating and having a secret relationship behind your back, hurt you, it wasn’t because the minor gossip ━ it was because you knew that it’s true.

Staying in your room and in opposite wing during his stay was the best idea you had, giving that your parents were off visiting the family for the holidays.

Your bedroom was dark despite the early hour, but you didn't complain when he came in; exhausted and in desperate need for comfort.

He couldn't tell you the exact reason why his day had turned out so shitty, yet you turned off the TV and put down the remote all the same.

Early that morning, you saw him in the yard.

He was trying to plant your roses but he got frustrated, he toss the shovel across the garden, he then continued to shoved the flowers off the table and with rage ━ he stomped on it, leaving the roses flat on the ground.

You were watching from the window, but you didn’t bother to check on him, knowing he doesn’t want you to help to fix his own mess.

Now, as he listened to the gentle sound of your breathing, he could feel the stress rolling more and more his shoulders in waves.

This isn't what he needed; a night in with questions, platitudes, anger or rage.

You were definitely concerned and confused, he was so agitated, you haven't seen this way since ever.

The last time he was so nervous was coming out to his friends and it doesn't even compared to how he was acting now.

You could feel his nervousness and as you tried to calm him down ━ placing a hand onto his shoulder, he pushes it away before letting out a big sigh.

"I think we should cut ties here."

It was the first thing Remus told you after entering your room for the first time after two weeks of staying there, and the first thing he had said in a long time where you knew he really meant it.

Over the pass few weeks, you knew his love, his care and all of his affection, even his touch didn’t felt or even belong to you, like it used to.

It was longing someone else.

You saw this coming, you really did.

From a thousand miles away, it was inevitable but it still hurt though nonetheless.

Even with the two of you not being your best lately, you wanted to ask him what made him do it. What started this whole mess in the first the place. If you had something to do with him falling out of love with you and in with Sirius.

You wanted to know what wasn't cutting it anymore.

Was it the late night letters which in neither of you were all that conscious about, or was it the act of being alright to the rest of the world when the both of you knew that you weren't really happy anymore; maybe it was the apologising, convincing yourselves how the both of you truly love each other, only to fight the next day and come back with a heavy heart?

Was it the non-stop dating rumours, or the fact that he couldn't tell the world that he was longing someone else without it sounding heartless, but you think it was a little too late for that.

You felt as if, the day he started to feel comfortable with himself, was the day you started dejecting yourself.

Maybe you were the reason that he resulted to move on when you were paying less attention to him as he started to get from someone else.

In your head, you had begged Remus to stay and he said yes.

In your head, you replayed all the memories of the two of you for him to see, all of the happy moments and the heart wrenching ones as well.

In your head, you had fixed everything.

Everything was fine.

The silence on your end stretched on for years and years until you found it in yourself to muster up the courage to reply.

"Alright."

"If that's what's best, then let's end things here."

You didn't let him show any tears falling down in your side of the end. Neither do you let him hear any signs of pain or hurt in your voice.

In that exact moment, to you the Remus Lupin you knew, is gone.

Slipped away through your fingers and you don't even know the person who was standing right in-front of you.

"Okay then. I'd be leaving in that case. I’ll pack my things and I’ll get a train to James’ place.”

James' place.

You knew why he was heading there, and yet you didn’t question him.

He walked out of the door, and when he did, tears slipped through your eyes. You quickly wiped it away and took in a big breath before letting it all out.

The clock in your room was ticking loudly. Minutes went by before you heard your front door close.

When your front door closes, you knew Remus’ heart did too.

As you sat on your bed, thinking about what had just happened. You couldn't remember the boy you completely fallen in love with.

The boy you fell your head over heels for.

Then your mind quickly wandered around in your head. You thought to yourself, if your relationship with Remus was based completely on this mysterious hunger of having somebody by your side; in your bed.

Was he really your soulmate, as you thought in the beginning when you would pull an all-nighter, pretending to study even if you knew it was only an excuse to see him? Or maybe only your bodies were meant to be together. Nothing more less or so.

You still can't figure out the answer.

You and Remus were friends ever since the year he noticed you having a struggle with one of the bowtruckle during Cares of Magical Creatures. And you cared for him, yes, and you have never felt the way you felt with him with anyone else.

His sexuality never mattered when the two of you secretly started your relationship and then he came out to you that night too.

Remus was your fresh breath, he made you feel alive, wanted and wanting.

Thinking back about the relationship, you both knew it was a risk.

A risk of friendship. A risk of loving. A risk of aching. A risk of being in a real committed relationship.

Everything was at risk; at stake when you're with Remus.

And in the end, it was a risk that was not worth taking.

As you collapse down onto your bed, letting your back make contact with your sheets ━ you were left there wondering that exact question.

Risking everything to be with Remus.

So why did you took it?

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fruitless-nonsense · 3 years

Note

would you analyze haylijah?

You read my mind (literally I was just thinking about this last night)!

Firstly, I’m sorry how long I took to answer, work was killing me. I also wanna say how appreciative I am that people like you are interacting with me, so thank you!

Okay, so Haylijah! What I take from them is a simple issue that the writers continue to make in to and tvd: beating a dead horse. Confession time! I genuinely liked these two in season one. They were cute, had good chemistry, a connection that wasn’t inherently toxic, and just cause they were paired didn’t mean they were tied to each other (I.e - had different storylines and stuff to do). I also liked how they took their time with it (like I said, they had stuff to do). I mean, I guess Hayley falling for the brother of her baby daddy is a bit weird of a dynamic, but it’s not like Klaus owns her just cause they slept together once. It also helped that I enjoyed both characters at the time. That’s really it, just a surprisingly unproblematic pairing. So what happened? A lot, a lot happened.

In season one, we are introduced to Jackson (who’s his own can of worms, believe me) and is immediately presented as a love interest for Hayley (love triangle oh boy!). It’s not really until season two that Hayley shows signs that she might feel things for the man, and then they have to get married. Couple that with Elijah inexplicably being distant towards Hayley for reasons I can only guess are to raise conflict and nothing else (cause seriously it made no sense). So they sleep together (I don’t know either, guess they patched things up and love each other again. You’ll notice that’s a theme) after Hayley explains that she’s marrying Jackson and they can’t be together. We skip to the wedding and they both have a heart to heart and end their relationship for good. I have to be honest, as a finale to this ship, it was perfect! It wasn’t just Hayley repeating “I’m marrying Jackson for the pack, we can’t do this anymore,” Hayley brought up her issues with Elijah. He’s the kind of guy who isn’t good at showing his feelings (to each their own), and Hayley wants more. She gave her entire heart to Elijah and got barely anything in return. Maybe she doesn’t love Jackson now, but he’s what she wants and perhaps she can learn to. Good scene, good episode, good season. This talk was expanded a bit in the finale when Gia had gone to Elijah, and just when it looks like he’s pushing another person he cares for away he goes back and kisses her (this might be me stretching but I have an overactive imagination). So what happened? It wasn’t over.

Season three had these two interacting a lot more (I mean Hayley didn’t have her own storyline at this point, so it’s unsurprising), and the writers decided to give them this lingering tension as to hang onto the pairing. Now I don’t know about y’all, but at this point in the show I had moved on. Why can’t these two just be friends, why is this still a thing? This is the nature of every scene they share (which is a lot of scenes, Hayley do you have nothing better to do? Wait, I just remembered thanks to the writers you don’t!) until Jackson dies, and suddenly things go from lingering tension to will-they-won’t-they. Now, I don’t have a problem with this trope when done well, but the problem is this is less of potential and more dunking it in the water and taking it back out over and over. These two were together, but now it’s over, wait never mind it’s not over but we can’t be together, now the obstacle keeping us apart is gone we can do this, but I have to respect his memory, wait never mind let’s do this. It’s not even exhausting, it’s just boring. This is all during season three! They finally hook up again after Elijah tells her he murdered Marcel and Hayley just doesn’t react. Who cares that the man who saved her as a baby and has done everything in his power to protect her and her daughter was killed by this man? Hayley needs to assuage Elijah’s man-pain. Then she has the audacity to demand Klaus forgive him, and when he addresses the irony she just ignores him. This is the moment it got through my head that Hayley was no longer a character, and was just a puppet for the writers, but tbh it happened way earlier than that. The season ends with the fate of the Mikaelson’s falling on Hayley. Does this mean Hayley gets her own storyline again in season four? You see where I’m getting with this.

We get the first episode’s A plot starring Hayley exclusively as she fights to save them, and it was actually pretty fun, especially when she went into wolf form to tear apart some vampires. Unfortunately it doesn’t last long as she reunites with Elijah immediately. Okay, so at this point Elijah is dead to me and Hayley has ceased to be a real character. Outcome, they’re together now and I couldn’t care less. I could say it’s infuriating that Hayley doesn’t care that Elijah contemplated killing a bunch of children no older than Hope or actually killed four innocent teenagers for the harvest ritual (she does bring them up with him, but it’s always in a scolding manner that doesn’t affect how she feels about him), but what he does to her in the necklace is what makes her believe he’s not safe to be around Hope. Okay. Not much outside of this, they end things again shortly after he returns from the dead (another cliche that y’all keep doing!) The finale has them separated by the hollow and Elijah’s amnesia. So how are they gonna bring this back for season five? It’s much worse than that.

So season five skips to seven years later, and they both appear to have moved on with respective partners. Declan is boring (more of a Matt clone than people keep insisting Cami was) and Antoinette is interesting but also problematic, not that either of these people matter. They’re only plot devices (another female character who doesn’t get to be a character? Nice one guys!) to put a wrench in Haylijah despite Elijah’s amnesia already doing the job just fine. Surprisingly their relationship isn’t relevant at all for a good few episodes (mostly due to Hayley being missing. And then, he kills her. You know what I’m talking about. X character being responsible for loved ones death while they don’t remember said loved one cliche. Remember when this ship wasn’t inherently toxic? Tbh it hasn’t been harmless in a while. So we get stoic Elijah, and the others trying so desperately to make him and to the extension me believe that him and Hayley were this unbreakable love story for the ages, when in reality their relationship was a hot-and-cold nightmare. Take notes, if you’re gonna do a slow burn, don’t get them together and break them up over and over again unless you’re planning to spice up the relationship in some way every time. Because I lost interest so early, and I don’t think I’m the only one. So once Elijah gets his memory back his story arc is over for the season and he spends the remainder moping around (we could have gotten an entire story between him and Hope instead of one episode and a scene in another). He almost doesn’t go to his own sister’s wedding cause he’s man-paining too hard. Finally, he decides last minute to undercut Klaus’ self sacrificing so they could die together (cause who needs actual growth between these two?). It is speculated that Elijah reunites with Hayley in the afterlife and they live happily ever after (I say speculated because we didn’t get to see their afterlife even though we saw Hayley and Josh’s?).

So what is there to learn from this? Elijah was an interesting character who’s arc inverted Klaus in a clever kind of way, but would not stop hanging on Hayley. And Hayley herself is yet another female in this show who’s agency and character is stripped away to service the man. The main problem with this couple is how repetitive and predictable their story became. Unlike kolvina their beginning had promise, but they never grew from there, they only shrank.

#anti haylijah #I was pro it in the beginning #hayley marshall #elijah mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaelson #marcel gerard #hope mikaelson #freya mikaelson #anti to writers #female character assassination

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 3 years

Text

Ghosts Still Have Souls

Pairings: Luke x Reader, mentions of Willex

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none?

Summary: For his whole life Luke Patterson had anxiously awaited the day he’d meet his soulmate, and then he died. 25 years later he and his bandmates are mysteriously resurrected and Luke’s hopes return. Could he find his soulmate in death? After all, Willie says ghosts still have souls.

A/N: it took me all day but here is my submission for Day 2 - AU for @jatp-week JATP appreciation celebration. I’m such a sucker for soulmate aus and I haven’t written any in the JATP universe yet so this was the perfect opportunity! Send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in any future works and as always, let me know what you think!

Masterlist

___

Luke Patterson had always loved the idea of soulmates. When he was a little boy his parents would regale him with the story of how they met. They ran into each other on the quad at their university, his mom knocked to the ground and his dad dropping his books. In her flustered state Emily had combined “Hey, watch where you’re going!” with “Are you okay?” and ended up crying out “Hey, watch where you’re okay!” while his dad had cursed “Shitfuck, are you okay?” When Mitch offered his hand to help her up they noticed each others’ tattoos and the rest was history.

It was Luke’s favorite story in the whole world and he grew up daydreaming about the day he’d meet his soulmate. He couldn’t wait to see what words would appear on his skin when he or she said their first words to him. He wondered if he’d feel the tingle that some reported feeling when the mark formed on their skin, or what the handwriting of his soulmate would look like permanently inked onto this skin. No matter what he knew he’d cherish the mark, it would be from his soulmate, after all, his other half, the person he was destined to spend the rest of his life with.

Dying before he could hear the words that would change his life forever kinda threw a wrench in his plans.

The thought of his soulmate out there, having grown up without him, never to meet each other because of his untimely death had plagued him for days after Julie “resurrected” them. Then Alex had met Willie. The skater ghost had died more nearly a decade before they had and yet he and Alex were soulmates, “You dinged my board.” proudly displayed on the blond’s wrist.

The knowledge that soulmates existed even in death had brought hope back into his life and he started spending his free time daydreaming about them again.

He’d been channeling his daydreams into songwriting one afternoon when Julie had walked into the garage with Flynn and another friend. He assumed you hadn’t been informed about the ghosts as neither Flynn nor Julie made any remarks towards the guitarist despite typically doing so. He wished that wasn’t the case as you were quite cute. You were absolutely the type of girl Luke would’ve crushed on hard back when he was alive, soulmates or not.

“Oh, and who is this?” Luke asked, employing his teasing tone as he spoke to the newcomer as you set down your backpack though he knew only Julie could hear him.

He had expected a quiet laugh or at the very least a dramatic eye roll from the girl but when he turned to look at her she was staring at her friend’s wrist. Luke turned to look as well and his stomach immediately sank.

There inked on your wrist in his chicken-scratch handwriting were the words he had just spoken to you.

“Oh my gosh,” Julie gasped aloud, drawing everyone’s attention as she opened her mouth to announce what she had just observed.

Before he even had time to think about it, he was stopping her. “No! Julie don’t!”

She stared at him puzzled for a moment but closed her mouth anyway.

“What?” Her friend asked, looking at her perplexed.

“I just… forgot to tell my dad you guys were coming over,” Julie saved. “I’ll just text him real quick.”

You and Flynn nodded, unfazed by the excuse, and plopped down onto the available seating. Luke sighed, pulling his eyes away from you and poofing out of the garage.

He reappeared at his parent’s house. He had hoped to vent to his mom but she wasn’t home so he plopped down on his old bed. His parents hadn’t done much to the room since his death and as he laid there in silence it almost felt like it was still ’95. That pit that had started to form in his stomach continued to grow as he laid there, his thoughts swirling as his hopes thrashed around him once more.

He’d finally found his soulmate but she was- what had Alex called them?- a lifer. She couldn’t even see him. How were they supposed to meet and fall in love and build a life together when she couldn’t even see him and he couldn’t even touch her? How were they supposed to pass their story on to their future kids when she hadn’t even been able to hear the words that were now permanently etched into her skin? As he thought more about it he realized that he hadn’t received a mark of his own. His heart sank as he ran his thumb over the bare skin of his wrist. He’d stopped Julie before she could tell her he was even there so she’d never had a chance to say her first words to him.

It was worth it, he decided after a while. It was worth never hearing the words, never having the tattoo and knowing for certain that his perfect match was out there. It was worth it if he could spare you from the pain of knowing that your soulmate was there but he was dead and invisible.

___

Luke was almost grateful for the distraction of the Hollywood Ghost Club. The last few weeks had been torture, him constantly trying to avoid being in the same room with you and Julie. She had told you about them being ghosts not long after the appearance of your soulmark and had even invited you to meet the band which you had readily accepted. Luke, however, had run away before you could come that day. It killed him that you had met Alex and Reggie and not him, but he figured it would kill him more to have your first words to him appear on his wrist.

They talked about you sometimes, about how funny and adorable you were. It made his blood boil but he had to restrain himself, what right did he have to be jealous when he refused to even meet you.

Still, the rush to book the Orpheum was a welcome distraction from his internal turmoil. It was even enough to distract him from the fact that no matter what happened at the end of the night, he’d never see you again.

He’d miss you. That much was obvious. He’d miss hiding in the loft when you came over to work on homework with Julie, just out of sight so Julie wouldn’t see him but he could still watch you. He’d learned a lot about you that way, how your smile could light up a room, how gorgeous your laugh was but he could tell you hated it by the way you covered your mouth when you did it, how you fidgeted with the hair ties on your wrist whenever you were thinking (he noticed you always had at least two), and that you were almost always cold. He wished he could give you his flannels, you’d look so cute wrapped up in them and they’d certainly keep you warm.

He was thinking of you as he and the guys gathered around the piano in the studio. Julie had just left to head to the Orpheum with her dad and the mood in the garage had immediately grown somber. Their heads filled with worries of what would come next, what was on the other side? Luke’s only comfort was the thought that maybe if he crossed over you’d get a second chance at a soulmate, one who was alive. You’d never even spoken to him and yet he’d do anything for you.

It was that dedication to you that had pulled him out of the Hollywood Ghost Club and onto the Orpheum stage.

It was that dedication that kept him from running straight to Caleb to save his soul when they didn’t cross over. He’d let his soul be destroyed if it meant your happiness.

He never could’ve anticipated what had happened that night nor the repercussions.

He’d spent the next day journaling, writing down all his thoughts- and there were a lot seeing as he had expected to die yesterday, again. He was alone in the studio, Alex out celebrating with Willie and Reggie was who knows where (probably showing Ray like usual), then you walked in.

He sighed, getting ready to poof up to his hiding spot in the loft before Julie showed up when he was stopped.

“Am I dead?” You asked, staring at him in alarm.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked warily, not understanding the premise of your question.

“Well, you’re dead, and with the exception of Julie, you’re only visible to other dead people and I can see you,” you explained carefully, eyes wide.

Luke nodded at your train of thought before it hit him.

“Wait, you can see me?” He gasped, and you nodded. “You can see me! You talked to me!”

His head snapped down to stare at his wrist, sure enough, “Am I Dead?” was scrawled across his skin in the most beautiful handwriting he’d ever seen. Sure, some might say it was a little messy but to him it was perfect.

Before he could even think about his actions, he was rushing towards you and pulling you into his chest. You stiffened, shocked by the sudden action.

“What’re you-“ started to ask but you were cut off by him violently throwing himself away from you.

“I just touched you,” he gasped, once again stating the obvious. “Why can I touch you? Are you dead?”

“No! At least… I didn’t think I was but now I’m really not sure.” You shook your hands anxiously before reaching for one of your hair ties as you started pacing.

“Sorry for taking so long Y/N, I got caught up with Reggie in the house- what on earth is going on in here?” Julie paused in the doorway as she observed your pacing and Luke’s panicked look.

“Oh thank god, you can see me,” You breathe out before turning to Luke, “Julie can see me, so I must not be dead.”

“What?”

“Y/N and I thought maybe she was dead since she can see me and I could touch her,” Luke explained and you nodded.

“What?!” Julie repeated, more shocked than the last time. “You can see him? And you, you can touch her?”

“Yeah, look!” Luke exclaimed, reaching his arm out to tap your arm but it just went right through you. “Huh, why…?”

“Maybe the first time was a fluke?” You supplied before something caught your eye.

You reached out to grab his arm as it fell back to his side. This time it worked, and you pulled his limb closer to you, turning it over to examine what you had seen.

“Woah, see?” Luke said pointedly to Julie, though you weren’t listening.

“That’s- how? You’re-“ you sputtered as you stared at the mark on his wrist. “Soulmates.” You whispered finally.

“Um, I’m gonna give you guys some time,” Julie said, eyes wide as she walked backward out of the garage.

You didn’t let go of his wrist, your eyes flitting between your words and his eyes.

“That’s why I didn’t hear them,” you muttered, bringing your own wrist next to his.

It had been puzzling you for weeks, how you couldn’t remember hearing the words the day they had appeared on your wrist. It made sense now, you couldn’t hear them because Luke had said them.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, dropping his wrist from your grasp. “I thought maybe if you didn’t know you could find happiness somewhere else. With someone who wasn’t invisible and intangible.”

Your gaze softened as you looked up at him, his face was tilted down, unable to look you in the eye. You sighed, taking a deep breath before reaching your hand up to cup the side of his face. It took a couple of tries but you were finally able to place your hand on his cheek, tilting his face to look up at you.

“Luke,” you said softly, “How could I want anyone else?”

He shook his head at your words, though his hand came up to rest over your own. “How could you know that? This is the first time we’ve ever spoken.”

“Because the universe put us together,” you answered surely, bringing your wrists together again in the space between you. “I have no idea how this is going to work but I know it’ll be worth it because these mean we’re meant for each other.”

“You are better than I could ever imagine,” Luke confessed softly, and you smiled shyly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Well you’re stuck with me now,” you joked lightly, before pulling him to the couch. “Now c’mon soulmate, we’ve got some catching up to do.”

#jatpweek #jatp fic #jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #luke jatp #jatp luke #luke patterson fic #willex #willie jatp #alex mercer #reggie peters #julie molina #sunset curve #soulmate au

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

Gǫfga (Ivar’s PoV)*

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Gǫfga: to worship, to honour (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: A continuation of the events of Chapter 42.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, once again, smut, plus the usual and a focus on Ivar’s past experiences, and his issues with his body. A bit of angst. And, once again, there’s a top and it definitely isn’t Ivar.

A/N: So, this is my first time writing smut on a male’s PoV, so this was a challenge but a fun one! I don’t know if this is any good, but I hope you like it!

This goes alongside Chapter 42, that I also uploaded today. You can find it here :)

If Ivar could choose to linger somewhere for the rest of the time he has on this earth, it would be here, it would be in this.

In any moment with you, really, but this moment more than any other.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling slightly to make him crane his head back. Ivar almost wants to resist if only for the thrilling sting of pain to be felt when you pull on his hair, but the pleased sound you hum against the skin of his throat at how easily he complies renders him mindless, and there is not a world where he would resist you.

Over the beating of his own heart in his ears he makes out that you are talking, and he almost wants to ask how, how are you managing to disarm him with but a touch and yet remain able to whisper all this gentle praise by his ear, making his chest pull tight and the cock he thought useless for too long twitch at every word that leaves your lips.

“I gather I should tell you more often,” You are musing to yourself, or maybe to him. “How much I love everything about you,” The smile he offers at your words is overwhelmed and pitiful, he knows it is, and is almost grateful the only witness to it is the ceiling above him. You continue, dragging your nails against his scalp and making him shiver, “I love your mind, you are so sharp, so clever. And I love your hair, more than anything because of how you react when I do this,” To prove your point, you tug forcefully on his hair, your grip tight, and even through gritted teeth Ivar cannot help the groan he lets out at the sharp sting of pain that he feels all the way though his body. You chuckle, darkly pleased, but pull back and meet his eyes, expression softening, “I love your eyes, they give a lot away,” The tip of your finger traces the shape of his upper lip and, lovesick fool that he is, he finds himself pressing a kiss to the delicate digit. “I love your mouth. Mostly for selfish reasons.”

The glint in your eye makes him chuckle, and he drawls, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” You promise, a blinding smile that you softly press against his own. “But I also love it for what you say, and for each kiss,” Pulling back, you let your hands grasp his, and you lift one between you, pressing a kiss against the back of it. Ivar only looks at you, letting you have your fill and pretending not to be filled with warmth at such a simple gesture. “I love your hands. I love how they feel against mine, or my body,” You drop his hand, continuing your path up his arms, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps to chase after your touch. “I love your shoulders, your arms,” You continue, your small hands squeezing lightly at the muscles of his shoulder-blades and upper arms, before you continue, determined, on the path you’ve decided. You trace familiar designs on his back, before you move to his chest, tracing the ink shapes there as well. “I love these, even if I don’t understand them. I love your chest, and I love how I can tell when I make you want me because it starts moving with your breathing, quicker and quicker.”

“You always make me want you.” He confesses, but only half his mind is on the words leaving his lips, the rest is focused on the determined path your hands are taking, and how you move your body down to follow that trail with your lips, pressing a kiss over his heart that after everything still makes his chest pull tight with emotion.

“I know,” You tease, side of your mouth quirked into a smile. “It is only fair, love.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so,” You argue, not missing a beat. Still, you drag your teeth lightly over his nipple and chastise, “Stop distracting me.

He says nothing, reluctant to speak and his voice give away how such a simple gesture made arousal cloud everything else for a few moments too long.

Any thought of arousal leaves his head when he feels you press a kiss on each side of his hips, your hands trailing down his sides and not even slowing down as they reach his upper thighs.

You have touched his legs before, but it was distant -or so he told himself- and he distracted himself with the story you told him of your time learning how to heal. But now…

He never really knew what to do against your softness, and the gentleness you so easily offer disarms him more than coldness and distance ever could. Affection threatens to break him more than anything else could, and he knows how pitiful that is, he knows how that speaks of a weakness he could never eradicate no matter how much he tried, and it shames him, but he cannot help it. He cannot help but shudder at each of your soft touches, he cannot help but let his eyes flutter shut when you kiss him gently, he cannot help but want nothing but to press closer when you whisper his name in the mornings.

And now, as your hands trail softly over his legs -thin, cursed legs- Ivar feels more than ever that you might just break him with a touch.

He cannot look at you, and he cannot do anything but try and fight that part of him that just pleads with him to get away, to hide himself, to keep you from seeing how abnormal he is, how broken.

“I love your legs,” You say, voice quieter, more restrained. Your words drop on his chest like a weight and he wonders absently if he is still breathing. “They are a part of you, and I love them as much as I love the rest of you.

You continue leisurely exploring, not appearing disgusted or put off, simply tracing gentle fingers over his thighs, his knobby knees, his scarred calves, as easily as you did over the rest of his body.

And Ivar is pulled between giving in and accepting your touch, basking in the affection you so easily offer to every part of him; or bracing himself for the eventual fall, refusing to accept the softness at the certainty that he will lose it and it will all prove to be a lie.

And so he remains frozen in between, hands clenched into fists so tightly he feels the sharp press of blunt fingernails on his palms as he tells himself you are pitying him, that you are disgusted; yet tears filling his eyes that he squeezes shut as he finds himself relishing in the gentle caresses.

You trace with a tad more dedication over the worse of some of the scars, the agile fingers of a healer trailing over a badly healed broken bone from years ago. You press a kiss against his thigh, and that is all the warning he has before you wrench your touch -your softness, your warmth- away from him.

The loss of your touch unbalances him more than he would like to admit, and with his eyes closed the lack of the warmth of your skin against his makes him lose his hold on his control -on his mind- for a moment.

It is barely a moment where your warmth is gone, and your voice is gone, and parted lips try bringing air to frantic lungs and the smell of lavender is gone too, and you are not there, you are gone. Gone, gone, gone.

Ivar doesn’t realize his breaths are as labored and quick as they are until you put one hand on his chest, doesn’t realize the sound of his own panicked breaths that sound more like sobs than anything else is clouding everything else until your voice reaches him as if from underwater.

“Ivar,” You say, the same love intertwined with iron that your voice has always had. You’re here, you haven’t left. Your hand is on the side of his face and he can’t keep himself from leaning into the touch, still keeping his eyes tightly closed. Of course you wouldn’t leave, he knows you wouldn’t leave him. He knows, because you understand and your voice is quiet as you soothe him, “I’m here, love.”

He nods to tell you he knows, to promise he trusts you, but says nothing. He isn’t sure he can.

You are straddling him again, and when he sits up to be closer you don’t hesitate to hold him, your hands soft and warm as they settle on his back, your voice low and soothing as you say something he cannot understand.

It suddenly is all too much, and he cannot stop trembling.

You promised him forever and still tied to his wrist is the proof you chose him, and not even when he was convinced Freyja had sent you to him had he believed you would willingly choose to stay with him, willingly choose to love him. You looked into his eyes and promised him he had you and your heart and your everything and a part of him still refuses to believe it isn’t a trick, a vision, a mirage.

Because it cannot be real, he knows it can’t. You love him, and you chose him, and you somehow want him enough to make his useless cock work, and you bring him pleasure and you leave your mark with nothing but gentleness all over his body, even his cursed legs, that you don’t hesitate to caress and promise to love as much as the rest of him. One of those things alone would have been enough to believe he was somehow living in a vision.

And it overwhelms him, it throws him under a rip current where he cannot make up from down, he cannot know if he has to force himself to see it isn’t real before he can lose himself in the fantasy or if he has to make haste and seize how everything he’s ever wanted is being offered to him in the shape of one stubborn woman he would give the world to if she asked.

Ivar wants to grunt out a curse at his own weakness, but his voice refuses to be heard, and he wants to get his body under his control, but for some stupid reason he can’t stop trembling.

You pay no mind to his weakness, you make no mention of the pathetic display, choosing instead to hold him tightly to you, letting his face be hidden against the curve of your throat, and only run your hand up and down his back as his breaths waver between somewhat normal to gasping and panicked.

He has never felt so much of your bare body pressed against his, or maybe he has, but it has never felt like this. This, all-encompassing, overwhelming, maddening, soothing.

He truly doesn’t know how much time passes, how long he lingers in the safety you offer, how much of your affection he basks in. Time has proven to be pointless to him lately, with the coming of spring being one cold morning of winter and the borrowed time he thought would mean the end of it all marking only the beginning, so he doesn’t care much for time anymore.

But he knows enough time passes that his heart returns to a normal pace and no longer trashes in his ribcage, he knows he lingers in the safety of your embrace for long enough that his hand start aimlessly exploring your body again, he knows he basks in enough of your affection to put him back together, though he knows there really won’t ever be enough if you ask him.

Eyes still closed, his mouth seeks yours, and he kisses you deeply, realizing only once he is begging entrance into your mouth of the urgency that had overcome him, of the desperation to have you as close as he can, to feel nothing but you.

Soon enough you are quivering at the dance of his fingers against you, tightening your walls around him, and crying out his name in a way that will never cease to fill him with pride and warmth. He takes in the sight of you as he always does, awed and reverent and desperate for you, for what you sound like when you come because of him, for the praise of your moans and cries of pleasure.

Relentless, ruthless, Ivar chases after your pleasure as if it were his own, and feels the daze of arousal set upon him as he watches you unravel for him.

When your hand reaches down for his cock it takes everything in him not to stop you, not to jump with the by now familiar words of how he cannot do this at the tip of his tongue. Instead, he hears your voice as clearly as if you were speaking those words again, give in to me, Ivar.

And he does, helplessly yours.

And he focuses on nothing but you, nothing but the feel of your body against his, of your wet center around his fingers, of your delicate hand around him, of your mouth on his. He gives in, he willingly follows you to the edge of that abyss and trusts you will be there when he falls, to pull him back to safety or fall with him.

He hardens even further at your touch, and soon enough you have him robbed of breath and of sanity, muffling frenzied moans against your lips and unable to help the way his body presses harder against you, against your touch.

He has never felt this before, this painful desperation, this urgent need, this want.

“I need you,” He tells you, a choked whisper. The look in your eyes tells him you very much want to delay this, want to truly test how far you can take that need. His heart trashes madly in his chest, and he finds himself insisting, “I need you, my love.”

It is then that your expression softens, and you look as overwhelmed as he feels, naked want and this particular kind of longing reflected in your eyes as much as Ivar knows is reflected in his own.

Your hand lifts to caress the side of his face -your left hand, he feels the cold of your ring, and his throat tightens- and you look into his eyes with a sigh of his name.

His chest hurts. It pulls tight at the open adoration in your face and the soft touch you grant him, and he can’t say anything, only look at you with wide eyes with nothing to hide.

The dainty fingers of your free hand circle his length, and Ivar tries not to whimper at the touch.

You meet his eyes, draw him into your gaze and keep him trapped. Bewitched, some might say.

“I love you, Ivar.”

“I-…”

His words die in a choked groan when you finally take him inside you, guiding him in until he fills you completely.

Ivar knows he is gripping your legs tight enough to leave imprints but he cannot release the tension from his body, he cannot…Gods.

Nothing could have prepared him for this, feeling your mouth on him was nothing compared to how your walls feel tightening around him, stealing from him whatever breath he had left.

“Gods, love,” You breathe, voice almost a whine, “You look…”

You don’t’ finish your sentence, instead rocking back and forth in your place, sending jolts of pleasure so jolting they are almost painful down Ivar’s spine.

His grip on you tightens, and he breathlessly pleads, “Don’t move.”

He is certain if you do he will peak then and there, and he cannot have that. He wants to feel you tightening around him like you do around his fingers when he makes you come, he wants to be inside you when you draw your pleasure from him until you are calling his name breathlessly.

But the woman he married wouldn’t let him off easy, of course. You don’t move, but he is certain the way you tighten around him and make him gasp helplessly is very much on purpose.

“Does it feel good to be inside me, Ivar?” You ask, accented voice sultry and rough. And he opens his mouth to tell you to have mercy, but no sound leaves his lips, only a choked gasp that once could have been your name.

He is used to feeling like his body is betraying him. Incapable of walking as he wishes to, fragile bones keeping him from motion. He has learned to live with that, has learned to endure.

But now, now the way his body threatens to betray him is entirely new, and Ivar finds himself robbed of breath and of control and of his own body. It all is yours, just as he is.

There is only you, you and the maddening scent of lavender and something else, you and the feeling of you around him, you and the quickened breaths that taunt and tease him.

Ivar wills his body to settle, to adjust to the feeling, and eventually he relinquishes the tight hold on your thighs. He doesn’t have to say a word, but you understand and you begin to move.

It is a sight to behold, to have you above him, a slow dance of your hips as you lift yourself up and come back down, a sensual grind that makes you gasp with every movement.

He finds himself dangerously close to letting pleas leave his mouth, throat tightening in tandem with his lower stomach.

“Gods…” Is what leaves his lips instead in a helpless whisper, though it feels like a prayer to you and you alone.

Restless, he reaches with his hands to cup the underside of your breasts, thumbs trailing over your nipples and making your back arch in pleasure, sending a rush all the way down his spine at the sight.

A stuttering moan leaves your lips and you grind as you come back down upon him, and you brace yourself against him, one of your hands gripping at his shoulder.

Your hand comes to rest dangerously close to his throat, close enough that he once again almost finds himself pleading. Ivar feels himself quiver, and lets his head fall back with a clenched jaw, heat lacing his entire body.

He feels weightless, overwhelmed. He feels owned, and finds he doesn’t mind one bit.

You are pressed against him, and your moans and whines are gentle praise that breezes by his ear and makes him tremble. He tries telling you, hopes he does in a way that isn’t as broken and undone as it sounds to his own ears, of how much he wants you, of how beautiful you are, of how he loves everything you are doing.

Reaching between you, he lets his fingers trace a familiar dance as they draw more pleasure from you, and you begin to tighten almost painfully around him.

Gentle hands turn into talons that desperately claw at his back and Ivar finds himself losing a bit of his mind with each scratch and each sting of pain that you draw on his back.

Breathing becomes harder and harder, now that you are coming undone around him, because of him, clinging to him and moaning out praise and need. He feels it building in his spine, depriving his lungs of even breaths, stealing the steadiness of his hands as he grips at you tighter, guiding your motions with growing desperation.

With a sharp cry that leaves your lips, the maddening movement of your hips stutters out of rhythm, and your thighs clench tight around Ivar.

His eyes want to fall shut but he refuses to miss a moment of this, and opens them to watch you, head tilted back and lost in your pleasure, still moving above him. More than ever, he thinks he sees a goddess in human form.

“I-Ivar…” You call, repeated pleas of his name that make his heart stutter

He cannot say anything, he cannot find the words to articulate what you are making him feel, and so he brings your lips to his. His mouth urges yours open, biting down on your lip and dipping his tongue without hesitation, trying to convey without words how he feels so tethered and yet at the edge of an abyss.

But he cannot find it in him to make you move faster above him. If anything, he uses his grip on you to urge you to slow down.

He feels his release is close, and while everything about him is screaming urgency and need, he keeps the motions painstakingly complete, wanting to feel everything about this moment.

Your eyes meet his and he is tethered there, kept anchored to this world by your gaze alone, as you move above him, thorough motions that make the pressure build more and more.

His breaths are ragged, and he cannot focus on anything at all, he cannot fight it anymore.

Ivar succumbs to his release with a sharp cry, a stutter of your name that becomes drawled moans that he breathes against your throat, burying himself as deep inside you as he can as he spills himself.

Your arms are tight around him, and he finds his breaths are in tandem with the trail of your hand up and down his back.

“I love you.” He tells you, words not enough but somehow all-encompassing. You both ignore the way his breath hitches, the way his voice is thick with emotion.

“And I love you.” You promise quietly, lowering your face to press a kiss against the sweaty skin of his shoulder.

Ivar buries his nose in your hair, breathes in the smell of lavender and something else, remaining in that quiet afterglow with only your breaths and his own permeating the silence.

It felt strange, to be held like this, to be held as he gave you everything he had to give. It made his heart feel raw and exposed, it made the familiar prickle of tension, of the instinct to push back against the weakness that you drew from him; but the feeling of peace, the safety of having fallen and having had you there to catch him -or to fall with him-, the warmth that surrounds him and lulls him into closing his eyes, it trumps any fear.

____ ____ ____

I hope this was okay, thank you for reading!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside@aprilivar @msrawog

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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raplinesmoon · 2 years

Note

my isi, 3 & 25!

Hi Mai!! Thank you for sending in an ask, you are wonderful mwah <3

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

There’s multiple ties for this one, but I’ll give you some Yoonjin soulmate energy and choose their works! I feel like everything I’m proud of is from my earlier work because the brain rot hit me hard 😅

October: “How both of you were two ships in the night, navigating the same murky waters yet never crossing paths. And now you’d become his anchor, and he was your lighthouse, guiding you to safety and security every hour of the day.” 🥺🥺🥺

Burn After Reading (ch. 4): “We were fools, Seokjin. Fools to think that love could have blossomed, could have thrived in these shades of grey. Love needs light to grow, to develop, it needs happy memories. It doesn’t need secrets, lies, and death.” 😭😭😭

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

Call me a cheater, because I love bending the rules and I feel like spreading the love, but these are fics that I’ve fallen in love with this year and haven’t gotten around to reblogging with a little love more yet, but everyone should absolutely 100% read them! I’m gonna do one for each member:

Seokjin:

Last November by @kithtaehyung: I’m always so in awe of Ryen’s talent, and the Jin in this story just made my heart ache. The whole exes to lovers dynamic set during the turn of the seasons and the way these two just knew each other so well… I was clutching my pillow and tearing up because their love for each other runs so deep. When Seokjin said, “I want to love again”, I felt it deep in my bones.

Yoongi:

Set Me Free by @myooniverse : RK’s writing is so beautiful, it feels like you’re reading poetry or music notes because the words just fly off the page. Her writing is an experience you feel, and this arranged marriage au is one of the best I’ve read. The build-up of the relationship between them and the way these two broken souls find their way to each other and pick up the pieces together… it’s stunning.

Hoseok:

A Silent Heart Still Beats by @akinnie75 : I know this fic has been around forever, but I read it for the first time this year, and I think I’ve re-read multiple times since then. It’s such a difficult read at times because of the heavy subject matter. Seeing how life can change in the blink of an eye, and reading this powerful story about love and forgiveness, had me choking back tears at every word.

Namjoon:

Black Silk by @bangtanfancamp : I told you I was a cheater, right? I reblogged this one, but I can’t recommend it enough, reading it actually changed my life. The way the loving relationship develops between the dark mysterious mafia man Namjoon and his now-wife is so well written and feels realistic. There’s a second part to this too that is full of domestic goodness (and kitchen smut!!)

Jimin:

Syntax Error by @hueseok: I normally live angst, can you tell hehe? However, reading this fwb au was really refreshing! It didn’t have any of those frustrating communication errors. It was just nice to read about two people who started off hooking up, but realized the feelings ran deeper and decided to date without all the angst getting in the way! They were so cute together

Taehyung:

Et Sic Incipit by @lavienjin: I’ve never read something so filthy that’s also so hauntingly beautiful? Moon outdid themselves with this one, it reads like an old gothic novel that you’d open under your covers beneath the candlelight. This Taehyung feels so powerful and ominous, he’s such a formidable character.

Jungkook:

está dañada by @minyfic : the angst!! ripping my heart out and not even bothering to sew up the pieces!! This is so so sad, but written so well. I love the flower metaphors for their relationship and how just when you think things are looking up, Yus surprises you with a twist. Heart wrenching, but it’s realistic, and I love the duality of each character and how well they’re fleshed out.

fanfic end of year asks <3

#asks #ask games #jinpanman

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now-im-a-belieber · 3 years

Note

speirs + "you're scaring me" or "you're so cute when you're mad" it goes without saying, but please make me cry ❤️

prompt: "you're scaring me"

ron speirs x reader

a/n: hi, i have no idea how to write speirs, but i tried? please forgive me for how bad this is. i was just anxious to post something again :/

taglist: @capsparkyspeirs @wecomrades @tvserie-s-world

══════════════════

Everyone had a breaking point. Some men would meet it, and stumble to the ground and bleed out for good. Others would claw their way back to standing and carry on best they could. Some men lost their wits trying to avoid the inevitable crash and burn that came for everyone. They could fight and curse and cry, but no man could escape war without facing the end of their rope at least once. Everyone had a breaking point.

Even Ron Speirs.

Some said he'd already lost it long ago. And his high strung manic behaviour was born from some horrific terror that he vowed never to be affected by again. Some believed he was truly immune to any such stumble and was built inside and out to handle the weight of any war. You didn't quite know what to believe, really.

You'd never known exactly what to think of Ron Speirs.

Even tonight, after all this time. It was as if you were always hearing about Ron. Never hearing nearly as much from him. Though he tried, bless his heart. He tried so hard with you. And that's how you knew there was some kind of real honest love in the pull that kept pushing the two of you back together.

He'd steal you away to join him for useless patrols and for drinks in local pubs when there was time. When there wasn't, he'd maintain quiet by your side in a half dug fox hole- not daring to frighten you with his chatter about being some kind of dead man walking. He'd tried once, somewhere back in France. And you couldn't help but let out a giggle at his scare tactics. You might've regretted laughing at what he'd said if he hadn't been so quick to smirk at your reaction. It was all a blur since that night. A mess of memories of stolen midnight meetings and winks across briefing rooms... And rumours about the man when he was away.

Tonight was no exception. All the things you'd heard about Ron before you'd dared to try and get to know him, all the rumours that arose still, were being traded like campfire stories one room over.

Your nerves gathered in heaps each passing minute, while you stole cigarettes from the pack Luz left on the tiny coffee table he and Talbert were using to play some card game. It was a futile distraction. Both men would glance past their deck and toward the parlour where some replacement was getting the ever-loving shite knocked out of him.

You had almost missed everything. You weren't anywhere around when Talbert came rushing through hours earlier, gathering friends to head off on a manhunt. You'd almost missed the group of guys shoving a stranger into the closest room of the building you'd been calling home, for now. If you hadn't breezed in from waiting up for Ron just then, you might've very well gone the whole night without hearing what happened.

And it was only because Luz and Talbert stayed behind that you managed to ask what the hell was going on.

It was Easy's favourite funny man who'd passed on the gut-wrenching news. Chuck had been shot, and the man who dared to fire his weapon was in the next room over, facing payback at the insistence of Ron Speirs. Only he wasn't here, not yet. Talbert said the man you so often concerned yourself with would only return from the hospital they managed to open in the nick of time, when he knew the Sargents fate.

So you smoked while the boys pretended to play a card game. You watched time pass much too slowly for your liking, promising Luz to repay all the cigarettes you'd stolen in an effort to stay calm. There was no one you wanted to hear from more than Ron, now, for more reasons than one. You battled the selfish feelings as all sorts of other worries had you pacing the hall. The war was supposed to be over. Ron was supposed to have met you for dinner. But he was off someplace, taking charge.

Just as you began marvelling over the man's fortitude, and wondering if it was his courage that might inevitably send him into a spiral, he appeared.

Ron breezed in, but you heard him before you saw him. His demands to know where they'd taken the assailant echoed through the hall you'd wandered toward the stillness of. At that, you stamped out the cigarette you'd only just started and rushed toward the man who'd been on your mind all the while.

Ron was passing through the doorway you'd been avoiding by the time you reached him. So you dashed in his direction but had to stall in the frame of the opened door to take in the scene.

The room was full of men you'd come to trust and admire, their faces pulled down with frowns. Their eyes heavy, fists bloodied. It wasn't much of an unusual sight. You just thought you'd seen the last of nights like these.

You thought you'd seen the last of the gazes your friends cast toward Ron in moments like now. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the soldier, expressions reminiscent of those they wore when the stories about Ron were traded to spook the new kids. They looked afraid of what they'd heard he was capable of. Afraid of what he might do now.

Ron managed to scare everyone, somehow, some way. But never you. Not until now.

Of course, you understood when he lashed the end of his gun across the bastard's face. And you couldn't blame him for pointing the weapon right at the waste of space who'd put your friend's life on the line.

But there was a certain fury in Ron's eyes. The gaze he wore brought every story and rumour to life for a moment, whether they were ever true or not. And you weren't sure what he'd do next. You never really were. But this time, that frightened you.

Everyone watched on silently. Maybe they were scared, too. Maybe they'd been waiting to see something like this with their own eyes. But you weren't. As the gun shook with the tremor of Ron's hand, you realized he was just as frightened of what might happen next.

Despite your halfhearted and very brief attempt at shoving your feelings deep down, they only swelled more fiercely. And Ron's paused action was the final straw that toppled over your will at keeping calm. The words you'd been biting back clawed their way through your throat and pushed past your lips by what seemed to be their very own volition.

"Ron... You're scaring me." You managed to croak, in a whispered plea from the doorway, ready toward bolt to or from whatever commotion came of the scene.

At your desperate, frightened call the soldier seemed to ever so slightly turn toward you. He considered everything for another moment, everyone's collectively held breaths in the palm of his trembling hand.

Then he seemed to notice the blood soaking his fingers. He wiped the side of his hand on the shoulder of the man they had all tied up, as he fought for an easy breath. But none of your comrades seemed to let out their own sighs. Not until Ron reached for his hat, letting it slide away, exhaustion every so slightly evident in his movement.

You watched as he turned toward the door, not looking at you but instead instructing Talbert to get the MP's to take care of the criminal's fate.

"Grant's dead?" Your friend begged to know.

"No. Kraut surgeon says he's gonna make it," Ron replied, a sure statement spoken with confidence. But you heard the waver that lived on the edge of his tone, and the dread in your gut only stirred more so.

Before you could reach out to him, Ron stormed out of the door without a further word, or a glance your way.

You were left with no choice but to scramble after the man. The only goodbye you manage to offer your friends is a pointed apologetic look before dashing off, hot on Ron's trail.

Your heart raced as you watched the man you loved saunter further down the road. His shoulders square, his pace steady, like he was on duty, like his mission was never-ending.

You called his name in your hurry to keep up with him, hoping he'd pause, or call back, or something. But he just kept walking, turning a corner as if your voice never reached him.

You moved even quicker now, at his silence. In a worried haze, you rounded the corner quickly, never thinking of stalling. But Ron had stopped just there, causing you to nearly crash into him.

You held your hands to his shoulders, half steadying yourself to stand, half digging your claws into him so he might not ever go so far from you again. And right as you opened your mouth to ask a dozen questions, Ron beat you to it.

"I don't know if I did the right thing, just now." He spoke so much more softly than he'd just been that it made your worry grow tenfold. Ron's eyes glazed over, unfocused. His quandary hung heavy in the air between you. And you'd barely processed its meaning, let alone any sort of answer in the seconds that passed in silence. Then your man met your eyes. His slowly came to lock with yours, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something, anything.

"I... I don't know either." You half shrugged, still holding his shoulders as if that would keep him from sinking deeper into the darkness you could see start to fill him up.

"I didn't mean to scare you... I didn't-"

You shook your head at his discombobulated way of apologizing and moved your hands to his face. Holding him much more tenderly in hopes the sweet gesture would calm the usual electric tide about Ron that seemed to be buzzing out of control tonight.

"Let's go see Chuck. Can we?" You wondered suddenly. Would he even be aware of your presence by his side? Would it even help Chuck? Or Ron, for that matter?

Your man nodded, though, and drew one of his hands closer to grab ahold of one of yours. And with a furrowed brow, he started yammering another vague apology. Saying something about how he wondered if he'd regret letting the replacement go like that. And it just wasn't like him to battle with such uncertainties. So you stopped Ron's murmurs by saying the first thing that came to your mind,

"I still think you're the meanest, toughest son of a bitch in the whole regiment. " You assured with a smile, meant to encourage his own. "And I'm sure all the others do too."

Then he grinned, and let his eyes roll away from yours. And some part of him seemed more alive at your jest. After a beat, he nudged you to walk on, with his hand in yours. And you knew this was only the start of the worst night ever. And that maybe once you got him all alone, really alone, your man might really lose it.

Everyone had a breaking point. Maybe this was Ron's. You hadn't quite figured him out yet, even after all this time. Maybe you never would. But so long as you got to tough it out at your favourite soldier's side, there wasn't really much to fear.

#ron speirs #ronald speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #band of brothers

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zombryz · 3 years

Text

★ needy ★ a Frieza story pt.4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

TW - mentions of lemon

Please enjoy ⍟ sorry it took me forever to upload this pls dont hate me

The next morning felt different, not just because you woke up to an alien's arms wrapped around you but still you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You were still lying comfortably in the position you had fallen asleep in the night before. Frieza held you close to his chest, your leg wrapped over his lower abdomen and his tail clung itself to your lower waist. You didn’t want to move, you were so at peace. As you became more awake you noticed your surroundings. The air had shifted slightly and the sun was peering through the window, not like before where the sun seemed distant in the starry filled sky. You heard birds chirping beautifully in the background as you finally fluttered your eyes open. Birds? Wait a minute, you were on Earth!

The realization caused you to jump up in excitement. As you sat up in bed you found yourself trapped in by Frieza’s tail, you had almost forgotten that you were still a prisoner. There was no way Frieza was just going to let you go, last night didn’t matter to him. His words echoed in the back of your mind, “I will only breed with you this once.” You sighed, melting back down in bed, upset at the world and upset with Frieza.

“Good morning, my little human companion,” Frieza shifted comfortably and let the grip of his tail tighten around you as he yawned himself awake. You’d be lying to yourself if you said he wasn’t adorable. You grew more annoyed at your situation, wishing you could just take him back to your apartment and keep him there forever. He pulled you away from your thoughts by pulling you into his arms and into a tight embrace. His chin was resting on your forehead. Damn you, Frieza.

“Hello, my Lord,” you smiled at him up at him, unsure if you actually enjoyed calling him that or if you were just trying to mock him.

“You may have noticed that my ship is docked on your home planet, are you excited to see your friends again?”

This had to be a test, he’s trying to see where your loyalties lie. You thought to yourself, where do your loyalties lie? Obviously with your friends, last night doesn’t change anything. It can’t change anything. Right? You decided to have the upper hand here, you climbed on top of Frieza straddling him once again. The gesture was sweet unlike last night which was pure sex.

“I would rather lay here with you for all of eternity,” you leaned down to kiss him. The kiss was brief but pleasant and he didn’t pull away. After a moment you were the one to pull away slowly leaving him wanting more. You played it smart, if Frieza was here with you then he wouldn’t be a threat to your friends. If Goku and Vegeta weren’t back yet then the others wouldn’t stand a chance. Frieza looked you up and down and fixed his eyes on your lips. He was trying to read you to see if you were telling the truth. Luckily, it wasn’t a full lie. You definitely did want to lay with Frieza forever, you could die happy laying here with him getting fucked by him over and over again.

Frieza’s evil, shameful smile had returned. He brought his pointer finger to your face and shook it up and down, “Ah, tsk, tsk Y/N. I warned you and you should have listened.” His hand formed into an open palm as he held it over your forehead. This was a familiar motion and unfortunately, you knew what was to come next. Your eyes felt heavy and started to close involuntarily. He had drained your energy and you had fallen into a deep sleep.

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

You were very uncomfortable, there was a sudden gust of wind that hit your face waking you from your slumber. You had no idea how long you were out. From what you could tell you were outside now, the sun was shining brightly through your closed eyelids. You attempted to open them but the sun's rays were blinding causing you to pull your hand to your face to shield the sunlight. When you finally adjusted to the brightness you removed your hand from above your head and placed it back down near your knees as you sat up on them. You were on a floating metal platform. Your collar was still around your neck and you felt a chain connected to your hands and feet. You were locked onto the platform, when you looked to your right you saw Frieza’s tail hanging out of what looked like a hover pod. He was hovering just slightly higher than you so you were unable to see his face. There were soldiers surrounding you and looked to be guarding Frieza. You looked down on the hill where the soldiers were facing, you saw all of your friends. Bulma, Whis, and Beerus were standing with Goten and Trunks. Gohan looked injured and was standing over Piccolo, it was hard to see but he looked very injured as well. Krillin was leaning over him with a worried look plastered all over his face. Standing in front of everyone was a very angry Vegeta and Goku, you sighed with relief seeing that the others were in good hands now that they were here. The realization of the situation finally set in, Frieza actually went through with his attack. You weren’t sure what you expected but you had hoped he’d have a change of heart. You were a fool to think that. There wasn’t much you could do so you stared at your friends until one of them noticed you. Goku looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours. His angry face breaking, giving you a slight smile.

“She’s awake, She’s okay!” Goku yelled out for all of the others to hear. The worry in his voice was quickly replaced with relief. You smiled down at him, it was so good to see him again. “Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll be right there to get you!” he added speaking directly to you this time. Vegeta had now fixed his eyes on you also, his eyebrows lifted slightly after seeing that you were okay.

“Monkeys, sadly I do not believe your beloved Y/N is in need of being saved. In fact, I believe you’ll find that she has grown very fond of being with me.”

You looked up at Frieza to see he had left his hover pod. He was now flying on his own and heading towards Goku. You sat up on your palms nervous for what was about to happen.

“Oh yeah? Then why is she tied up against her will?” Goku furrowed his brows at Frieza, he didn’t believe his lies. He began flying up towards Frieza to meet him halfway. This was going to be bad.

They were too high up for you to hear their conversation, it was brief but you could feel its intensity. A few moments later they backed off and began to trade blows. They were clashing at insane speeds and you were no longer able to see their attacks. Vegeta looked very impatient and irritated. He flew up to both of them and Frieza and Goku paused to listen to Vegeta. You were still unable to hear what they were saying to each other. They must’ve come to a conclusion because Vegeta let Goku continue fighting Frieza, this time Goku turned Super Saiyan Blue. You were growing concerned for Frieza, unsure if he was powerful enough to fight Goku. Suddenly it became very bright, it looked like Frieza was also powering up. There was a bright orange aura surrounding him, blinding you and everyone else in the sky. When his aura dimmed he revealed a new form, he was Golden. He was absolutely stunning to say the least, even Goku looked surprised. It didn’t take long for them to begin fighting again. Your eyes tried to follow their dances across the sky and you bit your bottom lip in fear. From what you could tell Goku was losing. Just like that, Goku fell out of the sky returning to his base form. Oh no, you thought. Your heart was racing. Frieza hovered over Goku’s body and it looked like he was preparing to kill him once and for all, you screamed out Frieza’s name with tears in your eyes. Frieza hesitated at the sound of your voice but still sent out a ki blast. His hesitation bought Vegeta time to jump in front of Goku.

Vegeta deflected Frieza’s ki beam sending it into a nearby mountain top. Vegeta powered up to Super Saiyan Blue and began to throw punches at Frieza. He fought with more anger than Goku, knowing the history between them you understood why. They both took off to the air and you lost track of their movements. Goku was returned to the rest of your friends on the hilltop and given a senzu bean. Everyone focused on the fight, even Whis and Beerus who seemed to be unfazed and enjoying something Bulma had brought them to snack on. Within a few moments Goku was up and he must’ve used instant transmission to appear in front of Vegeta and Frieza’s fight which looked to be coming to an end. You had just noticed that Frieza’s men that were surrounding you were no longer there, you were floating alone in the sky. Frieza was on his knees in front of Vegeta who was holding his palm over his exhausted body. Goku was behind them preparing his ultimate kamehameha and you felt your heart shatter in your chest. Goku was going to kill him. You had to do something. You let out a gut wrenching scream calling Goku’s name. The saiyans had never heard so much pain come from you. Vegeta, Goku, and Frieza all turned their heads towards you. Tears were falling down your face, your throat dry and raspy. You were shaking, pulling at your shackles trying to break yourself free.

“STOP! PLEASE!” You yelled, trying your hardest for your voice to reach them. “DON’T KILL HIM!” you cried.

Goku swept in front of Vegeta and grabbed Frieza before he could escape. They had both let their guards down and Goku knew Frieza would have used that against them but he didn’t. Frieza was beat up and was back in his base form, he was in Goku’s grasp and he stared at you slightly confused as to why you were pleading for his life. The three of them flew over to you, Frieza still being held at the shoulder by Goku.

“What is it, Y/N? Are you hurt?” Goku questioned as he got in close enough proximity to you.

“No, I-I just... Please don’t kill him.” you begged.

“I don’t understand. Do you even understand who he is, woman?” Vegeta chimed in spitting anger through gritted teeth, fuming that Frieza wasn’t already dead.

“I know, it's just that,” you paused, unsure how to exactly say the next part, “I care about him.” you said softly, your head dropping low because you couldn’t look them in the eyes. Frieza was their sworn enemy. Vegeta was once his slave. They wouldn’t not kill him just because you care about him, it wasn’t good enough. You allowed yourself to care about Frieza, you gave yourself to him. What would they do if they found out? They would never forgive you. They would see you as their enemy too. There was a long pause before Goku finally decided to speak.

“I don’t know what happened to you up there, Y/N, but I know that no one has ever cared about Frieza. We’ll let him go this time but if he tries anything we will not hesitate to put him back in the ground that he crawled out of”

Vegeta looked upset with the outcome, he huffed and puffed. “Kakarot, what the -”

“Oh come on Vegeta, if Frieza trained up to get this strong then we can keep sparring with him and get even stronger.”

You weren’t really listening to them anymore, your eyes were on Frieza’s. He stared back at you with a look you hadn’t seen before. It was with adoration. No one had ever cared about him before, you were becoming special to him. He may not have a heart but with you he hesitates and he doesn’t understand why. He finally saw what the ‘Monkey’s’ saw in you. It was as if his revenge didn’t matter anymore, you gave him a purpose. Once everyone accepted his fate they escorted him back to Capsule Corp where he was told he had to stay under your watch on probation. If anything got out of hand Goku would be there to stop it. He was also going to be under Vegeta’s roof. You could get used to having Frieza around, this time he’d be the one in a collar. You smirked at the thought.

#frieza #dbs frieza #dbs goku #lord frieza #freeza #frieza imagine #friezaneedyfic #fanfic #Bryannawrites

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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PFFFF The newest Witcher trailes LITERALLY throws shade! They have the 'Geralt, but you've been such lone wofl so long, what change' and deadass show JASKIER before later shoving Geralt saying 'Yennefer' like a cheap 'no homo!' excuse. I can't. xD Whoever edited it knows what's on. xD

I feel so conflicted about the Jaskier-Geralt relationship in the show because on the one hand, yeah, they're definitely leaning into this non-romance in a way that can get uncomfortable for some, how shall I put this... jaded viewers lol. We know they'll never be canon. No matter what else we might say about Netflix's inability to accurately adapt the books, Geralt/Yennefer has always and will always be endgame, so getting intimacy between Geralt and Jaskier in these particular ways (flirty jokes, bath scene, argument staged like a breakup), while not explicitly queerbaiting, can make viewers feel... icky about it all. Especially for any show-only fans who might not know that Geralt/Yennefer is endgame. Many viewers, particularly American viewers, approach shows as malleable forms of entertainment that can provide them with the representation they crave, provided the fanbase is vocal enough about wanting it. And the more talk that surfaces about major, crucial changes to the plot that reinterpret huge swaths of the books' purpose and intent, the more it can feel like they might just change Geralt's love life too! Even though they (obviously) won't. And frankly shouldn't given that this is supposed to be a faithful adaptation.

Yet on the flipside, the Netflix versions of Jaskier and Geralt don't feel intimate to me at all. Their hostile introduction, Geralt outright punching him, the continued performance of 'I'm a big strong manly man who can't admit that he cares about others,' reducing decades of their bonding to a surprising, throwaway line, that argument when Geralt blames Jaskier for all his problems... it's terrible and I've never liked this dynamic for them (even as I, somewhat hypocritically, play with it in fic). So I'm like, you're intimate enough that fans are starting to side-eye the creators' intentions and yet simultaneously not intimate in any of the ways you should be if you were actually faithful adaptations of the book. And these problems, I believe, go hand-in-hand. By ignoring the actual friendship of the books, Netflix has been forced to "prove" that they care for one another by falling back on tired buddy tropes that, historically, fans have used as evidence for a potential romantic relationship. By not writing Geralt and Jaskier as having the open, witty, philosophical, caring-but-also-taking-no-shit relationship they had in the books, Netflix has fallen back on a dynamic that isn't doing their show any favors. Fans either hate it, or love it to the point where they expect something of the show that the show can never deliver.

So it's a mess! And that mess hasn't done Yennefer any favors either. I'm really not in a position to be defending that pairing - I've never hid that I'm not a Geralt/Yen fan - but whatever the books did that made others love their relationship... I don't think Netflix is capitalizing on that either. In that other ask I brought up how in the games their relationship seems to revolve entirely around Ciri and sex. If they're not talking about their daughter (or if Yen isn't being cruel) their relationship is just about how horny they are for each other, which... isn't really a relationship to me. Or at least, not the deep, "We belong together forever, we're basically soulmates" relationship that the franchise is going for. Same with Netflix. I never liked the foundation of their relationship being an ambiguous wish that tethered them irrevocably and a quickie in the rubble as a replacement for actually getting to know one another... but Netflix takes those aspects and emphasizes them to a disappointing degree.

"You spent a lifetime alone. What changed?"

"Yennefer of Vengerberg."

Yet when it comes time for the trailer to show us what this deep, insightful relationship is that changed a man after an entire lifetime of wandering alone... it's just sex. That's literally all Netflix is able to show us because that's the only meaningful interactions Geralt and Yen have had together. Here's a clip of them falling into bed together and Geralt, without any of that emotional work shown to the viewer, professes that he loves Yennefer the way she's always wanted to be loved.

Here's a clip of the joke we got where Jaskier is gaping over them having sex on the floor post-Yen nearly killing the lot of them.

I'm like... what out of any of this is meant to be appealing to me? Besides the fact that they're both hot as hell? (The casting does make my little bi heart happy lol.) For me, Geralt and Yen are a classic case of a story insisting they're meant for each other because That's Just How Stories Work, without doing any of the actual, you know, work to show us why they like each other, or how they got there, or why these superficial things (the sex is great!) trump the huge hurdles they should be working through. The games might have their flaws, but god bless 'em for letting the characters point out, "Hey... how do we even know this love is real and not just a byproduct of the djinn's wish?"

Geralt and Jaskier, as established, absolutely have their problems in the show, but I can understand why so many fans ship them over Geralt/Yen. And no, though bigotry can play a part, we also can't demonize the entirety of its popularity with, "You just hate women/are racist/creepily obsessed with queer men/whatever the latest accusation is." Rather, the popularity exists because, whatever their faults, it feels like they actually have a relationship in the show. We see them developing together in a way we simply don't get with Yennefer/Geralt and because that development isn't largely reduced to sex scenes—the narrative trying to pass every bonding moment off as True Love, with True Love equaling physical attraction—it comes across (at least to me) as more realistic and believable, especially given Geralt's character, someone who is emotionally closed off. If Vesemir (I think it's Vesemir) asked what changed and we deliberately cut to that moment of Jaskier leaving after Geralt drove him away... I'd more easily believe that yeah, this relationship is causing Geralt to rethink things in a way he hasn't for an entire lifetime. We've seen them travel together, become (begrudging) comrades, defend one another, do favors for each other, tease each other, have a major fight that they'll inevitably make up from, Jaskier is presented as Geralt's first friend, and none of this is tied to a questionable wish, or passed off as the totality of Geralt's development.

The fact that Netflix would include those lines, cut to a legitimately heart-wrenching moment between Geralt and Jaskier, but when it comes times to show his relationship with Yennefer, the most powerful moments are her without him (smashing the mirror, undergoing her transformation, stepping out in her new body for the first time, etc.) and their moments together are just sex—one of which is used partially for comedy—well... that just illustrates the problem for me. What relationship? The one that supposedly exists simply because the story says it's there? I don't think I'll ever be a Geralt/Yen shipper, but I'm perfectly capable of separating my personal preferences from subpar writing choices. Netflix is far into the latter. The way that they're adapting the story is, imo, hurting both fans of the book material and fans who are on the fence about book material. Because so few of these changes are working well, we've lost all the good the books contained and are now stuck with so much new bad. Basically, "No one liked that."

Except, of course, for the Geralt/Jaskier shippers riding the coattails of those tropes... though many will likely be disappointed and hurt by the series' end when they're not made canonical, with others growing frustrated with how the fandom has turned on them simply for liking what they were given. It's really turning into a lose-lose for everyone involved.

#witcher #twn #twn critical

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