#I'm glad to be writing this again

[cloudybarnes]

bad idea right?

Pairing: theodore nott x reader

Summary: after theo breaks up with you, he pledges to make things right and do anything necessary to win you back. however, you are determined to make him work if he wants to win you over again aka part two to new beginnings

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

a/n: LONG AWAITED PART TWO WOOHOOOO also this could be read as a solo instead of a part two if you really wanted, but here's part one in case you wanna read that as well ;)

✰  ✰  ✰

“Please don’t tell me you got back together with him!” Ginny groaned. She sat on the edge of your bed as Hermione braided your hair for the night. 

“No, I didn’t get back with him. I told him if he really wanted to prove it to me, then he could.” 

“So you’re thinking of getting back with him.” She said disapprovingly. Hermione chuckled from her seat in the bed behind you. She was working on doing dutch braids in your hair. 

“I think it’s fine, Gin,” Hermione said. “It’s not as if she’s going to jump back in bed with him.”

You waggled your eyebrows teasingly to Ginny. She gasped and swatted your shoulder. “That’s so not funny, (Y/N/N). Just because you think he’s sexy doesn’t mean you should get back with him.”

Theodore broke up with you very unexpectedly. He barely even had a reason for breaking up with you, which left you heartbroken and devastated. You were in bed for a few days, had a good cry, and then you were back. 

Theo had tried to mend the broken bond between your relationship, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to take him back that easily. Your ego was high, and you knew you would be kicking yourself if something like that happened again right when you took him back. 

“Don’t worry, Ginny. If he really wants me back, he’s gonna have to work for it. He knows that.”

“Alright,” Hermione said as she tied off the end of your hair. “All finished. Your hair’s gonna look so good tomorrow.”

“Theo better be drooling when you see him,” Ginny said, “if not, I’ll give him a different reason to drool.” She made a motion of punching her fists together, insinuating she would punch him in the mouth. 

You chuckled. “Hopefully there won’t be any blood drawn. I don’t think he’d really wanna go through all the trouble if it just got him a busted lip.”

“Oh no,” Ginny grinned, “it would be more than just a busted lip. I’ve got five brothers, I’m known to throw a mean punch or two.”

“Lights out girls!” The prefect yelled as she knocked on your bedroom door. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’ll see you guys at breakfast. But for real, if Theo tries anything you know I’m right there for you.” 

You smiled, grateful to have a friend as awesome as her. “Yeah, Gin, I know. Thank you.” 

She smiled, “night guys.”

You two said your good nights as Hermione moved from your bed to her own. 

“What do you think he’ll do tomorrow?” You asked Hermione as she shut off the lights. You pulled the covers close to your body, waiting for her response. 

“I’m not sure,” she replied, getting comfy in her own bed. “Hopefully something sweet. He’s got a lot of making up to do if he wants to get back on our good side.”

You smiled softly, “yeah, you’re right. Night, ‘Mione.”

“Goodnight.”

✰  ✰  ✰

The next morning at breakfast, the owl dropped a letter in front of you.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, his mouth filled with food. 

Ginny slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. Honestly, you act like you were raised in a barn.”

“We were raised in the same house, you know.” He pointed. 

“What a shame that was,” she replied. 

You chuckled at their banter, and ripped open the seal on the letter. 

“What’s it say?” Hermione asked. 

You scanned over the words before you read them aloud. “It says,

(Y/N), 

I hope you know how much you mean to me. I was a fool to break things off with you. I only hope one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. 

Forever yours,

Theo”.

“Forever yours?” Ginny squealed. “That is so romantic.” 

Hermione raised her brow quizzically. “Weren’t you the one telling her not to get back with him?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I can have mixed feelings about this. He breaks her heart but then he writes her a love letter. It’s got me confused, okay?” 

You chuckled. “I think it’s cute. It’s not gonna win me back, but it was an alright effort.”

“Oooh, what a burn,” Harry chuckled. “Poor bloke must’ve forgot how stubborn you are.”

You shook your head with a smile, “nah, he didn’t forget. If I know anything about Theo, he’s just getting started.”

“So, (Y/N/N),” Ron said, “do you want to get back with him or what’s going on with this?”

You shrugged. “I mean, obviously I still love him. It just sucks what he did and I don’t think he should be able to get off the hook that easily. He shouldn’t be forgiven for breaking my heart just because he writes a little letter.”

“I love you for that,” Ginny said as she nodded her head. 

“Hey, (Y/N/N).”

Looking behind you, you could see Enzo give a sheepish smile and a small wave. 

You grinned, “Hey Enzo, how are you? Sorry about yesterday, by the way, Theo’s a little crazy sometimes.”

He chuckled and awkwardly rubbed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. But, yeah, no, Theo and I are all good. He apologized last night and told me all about his plans to woo you.”

You chuckled with a roll of your eyes. “Go figure.” 

“Yeah,” he smiled, “anyway, I just wanted to come by and resume how we were before, you know, the whole break up thing, and drop off this book I think you’ll like.” 

Enzo pulls out a book from his satchel and hands it to you. 

“Coraline?” You asked as you flip it around and skim over the synopsis. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of spooky and psychological which I think you’ll really enjoy.”

You grinned up at him, “that’s perfect. Thank you, Enzo.” 

He sent a tight lipped smile, and nodded before turning away and walking back to the slytherin table. 

“I like Enzo,” Ginny said with a dreamy look on her face. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Go get him then. He’s a sweetie.” 

“You guys and those Slytherin boys,” Ron shakes his head with a scoff. “Not even that cute, I’ll tell ya.”

“Oh, what?” Ginny asked sassily, “like you’re cute?”

“I think Ron’s cute,” Hermione winked at her boyfriend. 

“Ugh, barf,” Ginny said. 

The bell rang. You all stood to gather your things for first class. 

“We’ll see you guys later,” you smiled as Hermione and you walked out to your shared first class. 

“That was a pretty cute letter,” Hermione said as the two of you started walking down the hall. 

“Yeah, I think it was sweet, but like I said, he can’t win me back that eas-“

“Excuse me?” Someone tapped your shoulder. 

Stopping, you and Hermione turned to see a younger Slytherin boy, presumably a first year, standing before you. 

“Uh, yes?” You asked confused, “do you need help with something?”

“Um, Theodore says I have to carry your satchel and books for you.” The first year stood awkwardly. 

“Oh, uh, that’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You blushed, a little embarrassed that Theo would make a first year cater to you. 

“I have to.” He said adamantly. “Theodore said he’ll set me up with this hot girl I like if I carry your books for you.” 

Hermione snickered from next to you. You turned back to her, a bewildered smile on your face as you tried not to laugh.  

“Well,” you said as you handed the young boy your satchel. “I can’t be the one to stop your true love, now can I?”

The boy grinned as he held on to your satchel as well as his. 

“Theodore is crazy,” Hermione remarks as you continue walking to your next class. The boy followed behind the two of you all the way to your first period. 

As soon as your classroom came into view, you could see Theodore standing there with a bouquet of flowers in hand. He grinned a devilish thing as he saw you approach. 

“I’ll meet you in there,” Hermione said with a knowing smirk. 

You walked up to Theo. He was beautiful as ever, but even he knew that wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

“Hi (Y/N).” He smiled at you then turned to the kid. “I’ll take it from here. I’ll have my guys put in a good word with Maizy for you.”

The kid nodded his head and smiled as he ran off. 

Theo threw your satchel over his shoulder and held out the beautiful assortment of flowers towards you. “For you, to say I’m sorry for being a douchebag and an idiot and a stupid motherfucker. All in the words of Draco by the way. Never knew how much he liked us together.” 

You chuckled and grabbed the flowers out of Theo’s hand. “Thank you.”

He smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, have you thought about what I said yesterday?” 

You sighed. “Of course I’ve thought about it Theo. Just like I’ve thought about how much you broke my heart when you dumped me.”

“Okay, I deserved that.” 

You chuckled. “Yeah. Thank you for the flowers, Theo. And… I still care about you, I just need time to figure this all out. I can’t just forgive you that fast when you broke my heart, just  last week!”

Theo sighed, “I know. I know! Fuck! I know I fucked up, baby, but I am going to do everything I can to win you back. I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait as long as it takes, baby, I swear it to do. The boys are down my back yelling at me for how hard I screwed everything up. They think I’m stupid, and I think I’m stupid too for letting you go. I promise you, I will do everything it takes for you to trust me again, mi amore.”

Your eyes softened. Theo knew exactly how to make your heart soar. 

“Theo…” 

“No, baby,” he shook his head. “You take your time. I’m gonna be here whenever you decide if you want to forgive me or not. Hopefully you decide you do want to forgive me.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

You matched his awkward laugh. “Well, thanks again for the flowers. They’re very pretty.” 

Theo smiled and nodded before turning around and walking away. 

✰  ✰  ✰

Later that night, you sat in the library studying for your Herbology final. Ginny and Hermione offered to help you study, but you knew you’d be here too late to want to burden them. 

As you flipped through the pages of your herbology book, you tried your best to take down any notes that you thought would be important. 

Your stomach growled. 

“Knew that was inevitable.” 

When you looked up from your textbook, you could see Theo sheepishly smiling as he held two trays from the cafeteria. 

“What was?” You asked with a smile. You cleared some papers to make space for Theo to sit down. 

He grinned and placed the trays on the table as he took his seat next to you. 

“Knew you would forget to eat while you studied for this exam.” 

You chuckled and peered over to see what Theo brought you to eat. Ham, potatoes, and stuffing from the dining hall. 

“Thank you, Theo. That’s really sweet of you.” 

He slid a tray closer to you, and you eagerly picked up the provided fork and dug in. 

Theo chuckled as you scarfed down your food. “Pretty hungry?”

You nodded as you finished chewing. Theo smiled to himself and started to take a few bites of his potatoes. 

“You’re being awfully sweet to me, Theo.” 

“Haven't I always been sweet to you, darling?”

“Well, yes. But that was before.”

Theo sighed. “I know I screwed up royally. I’m trying to make up for my mistakes. I’m still the same boy I was just a few months ago. I had a lapse in judgment and that cost me the best thing in my life.”

You frowned. “Theo…”

“Don’t you miss me, (Y/N/N)?” Theo shifted to face you straight on. He nervously leaned forward on the table, staring into your eyes, waiting for your response. 

“…of course I miss you, Theo. How could I not? You’re everything to me, and I’m just so scared of something like that happening again.”

“(Y/N),” Theo started. He tentatively grabbed your hands in his. “I promise you, with everything in me, if you decide to take me back I will never hurt you or disappoint you ever again. You have my word mi amore.” 

You were conflicted. You miss Theo like crazy. You couldn’t help it. No matter what you said to your friends about him having to work hard for you, it tore you apart every time you saw him knowing you still weren’t together. You missed being his. 

“Okay,” you said. 

“Okay?” Theo’s face lit up. “You-you’re giving me another chance?”

“Yeah,” you softly smiled, “I miss my boy.”

Theo grinned and yanked you toward him, engulfing you in a hug—one you’ve been waiting days for. You missed him. You missed being held by him. 

You held around his neck tightly, scared to let go. You never realize how much you craved his touch when it was gone.  

Theo buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. “God, I’ve missed you.” 

You smiled and pulled back. Theo smiled back at you. Slowly, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his in a warm, longing kiss. Your hands rested on his cheeks, his on your waist as you kissed with all the love stored up between you. 

When he pulled away, Theo stayed close with his forehead rested against yours. “I promise you baby, I’m here for good.” 

“You better be.” 

[yeonjune]

Yeonjun about the strain he felt while preparing for his debut solo project ✙ "GGUM" MAKING FILM

[mattodore]

birthday boy 🎂

[deliciouskeys]

Lena is 3 months old. It took me <2 months to update since last chapter, so I'm still writing ahead of my timeskips. And that's all that matters.

Thanks @vanshoundd for inspiring me to think about Lena's reaction to Billy going clean-shaven (unfortunately less dramatic than the art).

This is what Hart 216 looks like. Always amused by the photographers just sitting on the floor:

[chiliger]

The things we could have been.

(Art for my Multiverse AU)

[yamsgarden]

Wow OK so… I just finished reading the 🧊🍈 short novel and I'm in denial, how good it was

I laughed so much, idk if it was intentional, but just…

I love it so much

That's all the words that I can say atm… I still need to digest how good it was

[cringefailvox]

“Now, with that out of the way, it’s time for you to rest, pet.” “If you’re expecting me to succumb to exhaustion, you will be waiting an eternity. Not even a bullet to the skull can put me down at this point.” Lilith smirked. “You will sleep for as long as your body and your mind require.” Oh, dear. That was a command.

the one in which alastor's seven year absence was spent napping, and it actually solved a lot of problems

[delimeful]

I have developed a love-hate relationship with you and your writing. You keep starting these wonderful stories but you don’t finish them like bestie please I just want an ending 😭

i'm truly sorry that the freely available stories i write online for my own joy and whimsy aren't being completed fast enough for you. i hope you can forgive me for not churning out perfect completed fanfictions at a premium rate for you to mindlessly consume and then never comment on. how could i forget that my life's dream has always been to work myself to the bone for the soulless content creation grind until i die.

[baenakinskywalker]

am i bad, or mad, or wise?

When her eyes finally flutter open, it’s the sitting room ceiling she finds. Instead of her bed, she’s on the sofa, buried amongst the deep velvet throw pillows. Soft morning light streams through the linen curtains, and Feyre watches dust float in the air like glittering stars. She sits up, stretches her arms above her head, and frowns. Do I sleepwalk? And that’s when she casts her gaze toward the hallway and sees him. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court…painting? He’s sitting on a stool before a great easel, blocking out shapes on a towering canvas. As she stirs, he turns — a lazy grin pinned across his devastatingly handsome face. “Hello, Feyre darling. Awake so soon?” or what happens if Feyre doesn't dream about the Attor after exchanging magical flirty notes with a certain High Lord during ACOMAF. written for @officialfeysandweek!

rating: m

words: 2,966

a/n: this is inspired by guilty as sin? by our lord and savior taylor alison swift, because of course it is. quoted text at the beginning belongs to sjm herself. all mistakes are my own :) enjoy!

read on ao3 or under the cut:

I was under duress, his next note read. If you want, I’d be more than happy to prove you wrong. I’ve been told I’m very, very good at licking.  I clenched my knees together and wrote back, Good night. A heartbeat later, his note said, Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me. I need my beauty rest.

- A Court of Mist and Fury, chapter 29

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

Sometime between getting the last note from Rhysand and readying herself for bed, shame starts to bubble in Feyre’s stomach. It creeps up slowly, steadily replacing the joy from earlier and making her doubt every decision made on that magical paper. By the time she slides into bed, there’s no trace of happiness left in her mind. Just three words, repeated ad nauseam. 

Killer. 

Traitor. 

Whore. 

What if she’s all three? What if everyone in Prythian thinks the same, or even worse? What if her traitorous human heart costs them all this war?

As sleep barrels toward her, Feyre braces for a night of turmoil. Of nausea forcing her to the toilet in the early hours of the morning. Please, she begs someone. Anyone. 

Her eyes finally close, and she sees violet before complete darkness.

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

When her eyes finally flutter open, it’s the sitting room ceiling she finds. Instead of her bed, she’s on the sofa, buried amongst the deep velvet throw pillows. Soft morning light streams through the linen curtains, and Feyre watches dust float in the air like glittering stars. She sits up, stretches her arms above her head, and frowns. Do I sleepwalk now? 

And that’s when she casts her gaze toward the hallway and sees him. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court…painting? 

He’s sitting on a stool before a great easel, blocking out shapes on a towering canvas. As she stirs, he turns — a lazy grin pinned across his devastatingly handsome face. “Hello, Feyre darling. Awake so soon?” 

There’s paint on his hands, curling up his arms and stopping just short of where the sleeves of his crisp, black shirt are rolled up. When did Rhys learn to paint? Feyre thinks dimly, trying to recount any mention of him favoring the arts. But then he’s crossing the room, and before she can ask out loud, he’s leaning down and —

Rhys is kissing her. Actually kissing her. His lips find hers easily, like he’s done this a million times before. Like he could do it blind. And it’s not the fiery, all-consuming kiss she sometimes imagines in the dead of night, either. His mouth is feather-soft against hers, moving slowly and sweetly in a good-morning greeting.

It feels like they’ve done this before. 

It feels good.

“Sweet dreams?” Rhys asks when he pulls away. “Must have been. I think I even heard some snoring from the general direction of the couch.” He presses another quick kiss to her mouth, then the tip of her nose. 

“I do not snore,” Feyre huffs. Her head spins. 

Rhys laughs, and her heart clenches. Has she heard him laugh like that before, so completely unbidden? “I think I would know,” he says. “After all, one of us” — he shoots her a mock glare — “falls asleep like that these days.” He snaps his fingers and nods, still smiling. “I hear plenty of cute snoring from your side of the bed, darling.”

Her side of the bed? Snoring? 

“It’s a good thing you’re finally up,” Rhys continues. “I need your help with this painting.”

She cocks her head to the side. “What on earth are you painting?”

“Only my favorite subject.” A wicked grin spreads across his face.

“Yourself?” Feyre asks, one foot back into familiar territory. The banter between them makes sense even if other details don’t. 

He laughs again. “My lady wounds me,” he says, voice gliding like the nighttime breeze through the mock-hurt on his face. He gestures at the canvas, where there are a few rudimentary shapes certainly meant to become a portrait. 

Feyre squints at the soft oval meant to be the face. The curve of two human ears. Already, a sweeping of freckles where the cheekbones will be, as if the painter got ahead of himself. She tilts her head and steps back, eyes going wide when she realizes that the canvas is no more than a mirror. Rhysand is painting her.

She raises her brows. “Me?”

“Is there anyone else?” Rhys asks, suddenly earnest. Something shines in his violet eyes, something other than star-flecked night. Something warm and healing and —

In a flash, it’s gone, replaced by that all-too-familiar smirk and mischief she’s come to know since living in the Night Court. “I thought it a fitting anniversary gift for my favorite artist.”

“Our anniversary?” Feyre breathes. The kiss. The ease of conversation, how Rhys has heard her snore. What sort of wicked dream is this? It must be a dream. She looks down at her left hand and spies the ring retreated from the weaver’s cottage. 

Cauldron boil her. 

“Did my sweet wife forget?” Rhys muses, yet another smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “How should I punish her?” 

His smile turns wicked. The glint of his canines sends a spark down Feyre’s spine that she’s seldom felt before. Not with Tamlin, as much as she’s tried to convince herself otherwise. And certainly not with Isaac. From the roots of her hair down to her toes, she feels a flush that’s no doubt painted her beet red. 

“Oh, Feyre darling,” Rhys croons, paintbrush appearing in his hand out of thin air. “Then I suppose we should make this portrait a nude.” He dusts the brush down the bridge of her nose, traces the edge of her mouth. Her lips part, and Rhys finds her tongue with the soft bristles. A question. A challenge. 

Though he’s her husband in this topsy-turvy world, though they must have gone to bed together before, Rhys makes no move that she doesn’t want. It stumps her. What on earth is this fantasy she’s living in?

It’s not like Feyre hasn’t thought about it. Thought about Rhys like this. On Calanmai, even though it felt traitorous to think, he was easily the most beautiful male she’d ever seen. And back in Spring after Amarantha and everything they’d all been through, sometimes violet eyes were what she saw in Tamlin’s bed. 

Since living here in Velaris with Rhys, getting to know his family — well, those eyes have made more appearances in her daydreams. And in her fantasies. So maybe this is the culmination of all of that. Of the flirting, the dancing around each other like something inevitable is just beyond the horizon. 

Is that so bad? 

Is she so bad for wanting Rhysand?

He’s still before her, waiting to see what she decides.

Without another though, Feyre closes her mouth around the paintbrush and hollows her cheeks. Her eyes stay on Rhys, and she watches how his eyes darken, how all the air in his lungs disappears. She hears his groan, and then the paintbrush is gone, his hands are on her, and his mouth — 

Mother above.

Gone is the sweet greeting kiss from earlier. This one is a roaring fire they’ve just thrown a log on. Smoke and embers and sparks everywhere Rhys’ mouth presses, everywhere his tongue sweeps. Feyre’s knees go weak as he parts her lips with that cunning, devilish tongue, meeting hers with a curl that has her seeing stars. 

It’s so much better than she could have imagined.

Rhys pulls away, breathing heavily and smiling. She wants to commit that perfect smile to memory, wants to paint it a thousand times until it covers the walls of the townhouse — maybe even plaster it on every street in Velaris. Everyone should be so lucky to see this smile. “Wicked, beautiful thing,” he croons, gaze dropping to her swollen lips. “You’ll remember I asked for your help, Feyre.”

“That you did.” A challenge for him.

He flicks his wrist, and her nightgown is gone. 

All of her clothes are gone.

Somehow, standing stark naked in front of the High Lord of the Night Court doesn’t scare her. Doesn’t embarrass her. Feyre feels strangely powerful as Rhys takes in every inch of her body. So powerful that she cocks her head and asks, “What did you need from me again?”

He smirks. “There are a lot of things I need from you, darling. You can start by sitting down, so I can get a better look at that face.” 

Feyre sits on the stool just in front of the canvas, covering her bare breasts with her hands. “Since you’re only interested in my face,” she says. “There’s no need for these” – she squeezes, delighting in how Rhys’ eyes go wide – “to be on display.”

That rips a growl from his throat. “We’ll see,” is all Rhys says as he walks to the other side of the room. “To make sure the composition looks right,” he adds.

On the stool, Feyre wrinkles her nose. Then sticks her tongue out. She crosses her eyes, bares her teeth, and then scrunches her whole face, eyes squeezing shut. Trying out poses like a good model. “Any of those work for you?” she asks. 

“I see something that works quite nicely,” he says, drawing near her again. When he’s barely an arm away, he gives the command. “Lean back, Feyre.”

Against the canvas. The freshly painted, wet canvas. “But your hard work will be ruined,” the artist in her says. She’ll surely smear the paint, making the few shapes behind her completely unrecognizable. 

“My hard work has barely begun,” he answers, looking down at her hungrily. “Now lean back.” So she does. With a sharp inhale when her bare back touches the cold, wet paint behind her. Rhys’ paintbrush is back in one hand, and he has a palette with fresh paint in the other. He dips the brush in a dark, inky indigo, and starts painting her. Wherever the his lips land, the brush follows, from her forehead to the tip of her nose, finally reaching her hands — still covering her breasts. 

Kneeling before her, Rhys plucks her left hand from her chest and presses kisses to the whorls of magic ink signifying their bargain. He kisses each finger, then draws her thumb into his mouth and sucks, which has her moaning softly. He nips at her skin, and then moves to the right arm, where her hand is completely bare. Not for long, Feyre realizes, as Rhys drags his brush along her skin, painting a mirror of the marks on the left. Each touch is light as a feather, and Feyre squirms as he adds more detail, pressing his hot mouth against any areas without paint. 

Only when he’s finished with her arm, when it matches her bargain tattoo in a way that makes her heart clench, does he look at her breasts, now heaving and heavy with want. 

“These,” Rhys murmurs, taking both in his hands — so large, so warm — and rubbing his thumbs across her nipples, “are simply exquisite.” He pinches one, keeps rolling his thumb across the other, and Feyre can’t breathe. Her body is wound so tight, and he’s hardly even touched her yet. If he uses his mouth, she’ll shatter fast. 

And there’s the mind reading, finally. I’ll just have to take my time, won’t I, darling?

Slowly, so slowly that Feyre could scream, he lowers his mouth to her left breast, pausing before he gets to where she wants him. Needs him, more like. He simply exhales, sending cool air across her skin and making her nipples pinch. “You bastard. Why won’t you just —”

He takes her breast into his mouth and sucks, teeth scraping and lips soothing, and it’s too much and not enough, and her hands fist into inky black hair and tug almost without Feyre meaning to. And suddenly his fingers are coated in paint, and he’s swirling more dark shapes across the rest of her chest, pinching and kneading along the way. 

And just when he’s going to make her come apart — just from this! — Rhys pulls away, eyes heavy and dark, feline smile across his face. “You were saying?”

Before she can pull his hair or pinch him or do anything, he’s nudging her knees apart and giving her a look that says she’s his personal feast. 

But he takes his time here too. Uses that painted hand to roam up and down her thighs, even writing the word mine just below the crease of her right hip. “Territorial?” Feyre asks, voice wobbling from the feeling building in her stomach. 

“I want all of Prythian to know that you’re my” — he pauses, pressing his lips together — “wife.”

If she’s letting herself have this fantasy, why not really enjoy it? “Then why don’t you take what’s yours?”

Rhys needs no other instruction. In an instant, his hands are clean of paint, and he’s got both of her legs hitched over his powerful shoulders. Wouldn’t it be nice to see his wings, she thinks distantly as his hot mouth descends on the apex of her thighs.

The mind reading again as his wings appear dark and imposing and incredibly wide. Does the wingspan match the —

“Oh, you’ll see,” Rhys answers before the first press of his tongue against her clit turns her mind to utter mush. He licks broad strokes across her center that have her legs shaking, then wraps his lips around her and sucks. One hand snakes up to pinch at her nipple, and it’s so much better than she ever imagined. 

So much better than it’s ever been. 

Her thighs are trembling when Rhys slides one finger inside her and curls, hitting that spot that only she’s been able to find before. It wrings moans from her lips that turn into shouts as he adds another finger, working her slowly but surely toward the edge of something. Is she saying his name? Is she praising the Mother? It’s impossible to tell when she feels this full, when she can hear how slick Rhys’ mouth is with her arousal. 

Rhys looks up at her from under his lashes, and there’s a glint in those starry eyes that has her practically begging for more. It’s possible she does beg, but there’s no way for Feyre to tell when she’s on the precipice like this. 

Tell me if you want me to stop, Rhys says through the bond. So convenient that they can communicate while his mouth is occupied. The fingers curling inside her rotate, still filling her so perfectly, and then —

He gathers some of her slick onto his thumb and presses gently at the pucker below her center. 

Don’t you dare stop, Feyre says down the bond. 

Rhys doesn’t stop, just presses deeper, sucks harder, thrusts his fingers further. 

By the cauldron. Never, it’s never felt like this; she’s tense, like a bow about to loose an arrow through the snowy wood. She’s so close, so dangerously close to something entirely new. To being remade. To understanding, to peace, to —

With a gentle scrape of his teeth against her clit, Feyre comes undone. She shatters. Melts. Is everywhere and nowhere at once, anchored to the world by the golden light from her bargain. Rhys licks her through the aftershocks, then draws back slightly and nips at her thigh. Kisses his way up her leg, past the paint claiming her, all the way to her heart. He presses a soft kiss where her pulse thunders beneath her skin and rises. 

In the back of her mind, Feyre swears she can hear his knees creak as he stands. Something to tease him about later, when she can form sentences again 

“Enjoy yourself?” Rhys asks, scooping her into his arms. All the paint has been magically cleaned away, save the mine on her thigh. She’ll tease him about that, too, surely. 

“I think you know the answer to that,” Feyre says, voice husky from screaming her pleasure. She buries her face in the spot between Rhy’s shoulder and neck and breathes. Would it be so bad for this to be her life? To love the man cradling her like something precious after pushing her hard enough to break? He knows she won’t. Rhysand believes in her. She feels it deep in the pit of her soul, whether that soul is black or not. 

He sees her. 

All of her. 

Suddenly, her eyes are heavy. “Let’s get you back to bed,” Rhys whispers. He lays her back in the mountain of pillows she awoke from earlier and brushes her hair from her face. “I love you. My wife. My ma—”

His voice is far off, and she can’t make out the last word. “My ma—”

Or is it, “Fa—?”

“Fa—?”

“Feyre?”

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

Her eyes flutter open. “Feyre? Are you alright?”

She’s not downstairs anymore. Instead of the couch, Feyre is back in her bed, clothes on, not a scrap of paint to be found. “Feyre, are you okay? I heard a commotion,” Rhysand says, sitting beside her on the bed. His hair is mussed, likely from a fitful night’s sleep. “I heard you scream.”

Feyre sits up, her thighs sore and slick from her orgasm. “I’m okay,” she says softly. Her voice is still hoarse. 

“Nightmare?” Rhys asks. He looks her over for any signs of hurt. This male who had joked so brazenly about needing his beauty sleep came to check on her in the middle of the night without a second thought. Dropped all pretenses tomake sure she was okay.

Feyre shakes her head. “A good dream, actually.”

His eyes narrow. And then zero in on where her nightgown has ridden up and exposed her legs. 

And the word mine in dark paint.

[wishuponroses]

I adore how Tatsuya Endo writes his characters, especially the women. They can be warm, soft, cute, cool, tough, scary... all, if not most, of his ladies in Spy x Family are equally wonderful in their own way, both in character design and personality.

[sugarpasteltmnt]

Hi! Sorry if it's a little bit late, I just wanted to say: Happy Anniversary!!! 🥳

WAAAAAAA THANK YOU

[stray-tim]

Stray, something just happened!

- @vampire-robin

Do you need help!? Where are you? I'll try to be there as fast as possible!

[shannonsketches]

God I love Toriyama's Goku.

[orangezinnia]

cottonwood surprise attack!! here's my guitar-only cover of it, chords and strumming are a combination of the Musical D&D performance and last year's Acoustic version :D

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 8 thoughts

tears. in my eyes. shaky breathing. oh. okay.

well. no place to start but the beginning.

stares at my laptop screen for a long, long time before typing. give me a minute. allow to me collect myself.

okay. we start with scully's mom narrating. and we learn, thanks to the subtitles, that her mom's name is margaret. this is information i will also be storing in my useless scully facts book.

so we knew she had two brothers, but a sister is also mentioned, named melissa. and we get this story from her childhood, about how dana- which feels wrong for me to type, but i will- was given a bb gun by her brothers, and she joined in with them shooting a snake. but then she realized it was bleeding and she cried as it bled out in her hands and held it while it died. which is already So much to handle. and her mom is saying that she feels how her daughter felt that day watching the animal die.

the next thing we see is mulder is there, and. he's saying it's still too early to know if she's gone. but. well.

we see a gentleman bring something out. and it is a gravestone with her name carved into it.

he turns away like he was burned from even looking at it. and man. that hurt. very badly.

we see that her middle name is katherine. and we learn this because we see it on her gravestone.

he goes back to his place (where he still sleeps on the couch) but then he gets a phone call that they've found her. and he busts into the door when the nurse says he can't go in there. that's our man!

he's screaming at these poor healthcare workers, somewhat rightfully suspicious they're involved with the government who took her, but also man. they don't get paid enough. however, i understand the emotional explosiveness this had to have provoked. so he is really just screaming, at the nurse, at the doctor, demanding to know what the hell happened, where she came from, and he says "i swear i'll do anything, i'll find out what they did to her" while being escorted out

then there is a very tense conversation between the doctor and her mother and him. the doctor must have already have been in quite a state, because mere minutes ago a raving angry man accused him of stealing his friend, and now he's sitting with said angry man explaining that they genuinely have no idea how she got here, and that she has no indication of injury.

we also learn that she had no desire to remain on life support past a certain point. and mulder knows this because. he. he. he uh. well he signed her will.

now i think maybe that's just something you have to do at the fbi and i can see them making a little joke out of it- a nice little trip to get each other's will signed, make a day of it, keep it light and funny- but man. man in this context. oh i'm gonna be Sick.

so we see a woman holding a crystal over her body and we learn it is her sister melissa!!! she's really pretty. she tries to show mulder that you can feel her energy by holding his hands over her but he gets angry and leaves.

(i love this dichotomy here, that somehow the ultra skeptic has a sister who is into talking about spirits and crystals. truly i feel this is what happens to people raised catholic)

at this point i wrote "girl i'm stressed tf out" and yeah. kinda the whole mood.

melissa is saying that his anger and fear is blocking the positive emotions she needs to feel, which echoes my statements about how he has been too cranky this season. but i can't even laugh because the man is in Distress.

he goes back to his place after saying he needs "to do more than just wave his hands", and he's bouncing a basketball and putting tape on his windows. i get it. that oppressive feeling of being unable to sit still. every moment dragging like a lifetime. bounce bounce bounce. he wakes up and rips the tape off his windows.

and back to attending to her bedside. i do not think this man has been clocking into his shift at the fbi.

we see a fellow enter wearing a suit and carrying flowers and i was like oh shit is it last rites time? um. so maybe i don't know what gets worn to a last rites event. i realize my weakness in this area and will do some research when we're done here.

but it's not anyone here to do that- it's frohike, the guy from the lone gunman who was making weird comments about scully! he must have come to pay his last respects. he picks up a clipboard and i thought oh my gosh he's gonna start reciting poetry- but he notices something weird on her chart and sneaks it out

it seems the whole thing was orchestrated, because mulder goes back to the freaks at the lone gunman, who invite him to come over and watch earth 2 and point out the factual inaccuracies- which, all things considered, is very sweet- but they send her blood data to a hacker that uses a richard nixon persona and he says that yeah, her blood is weird. and mulder's like, is she gonna make it, and they say no. it got very somber.

in terms of scully view, we see her on this dock of a boat between life and death. i thought that was nice imagery, and extremely eerie. those around her bedside are on one side of the dock, and it looks like the rope could snap and drift away at any moment.

the nurse comes in to do some blood work and i have another "augh blood" moment. so i look away. and mulder is REALLY pondering her blood. i thought he was honestly gonna take it for himself, maybe bring it in for testing or keep it like an emo.

but no! a strange man in a suit STEALS the blood!

so mulder is back into track star mode and is SPRINTING after this guy. i always forget that he is a runner. and he is RUNNING around this hospital and makes it to the parking lot until...

he is stopped by deep throat 2.0, a man for whom i realize i have no other name. but you know who i'm referring to, right? so i guess that name will work for now. deep throat 2.0 says that mulder needs to stop NOW, and that HE got deep throat 1.0 AND scully killed by looking into things too hard. which is an absolutely awful thing to say btw. deep throat 2.0 has a gun to mulder's head and says to stop searching.

mulder proceeds to run after the blood thief despite these warnings. can't say i blame him. he finds the blood thief!!! and they have a bit of a fight until...

deep throat 2.0, who earlier said he wanted to remain out of this mess, rolls up? so we're getting mixed messages here. and he says i'll take care of this and SHOOTS THE BLOOD THIEF?????? in the head.

back to the hospital. mulder is not pleased about the prospect of life support being removed but melissa says he has to honor her wishes. and he's going on about the blood protein and the doctor is like "why do you think this has anything to do with blood protein" and he Does Not Explain

her mom calls him "fox" again and says this is a moment for the family, but he can come too. and he won't come in. he's the wettest and saddest a man has ever looked as they go in there. and then the rope holding her to the dock of the afterlife is severed.

man. if i had been a contemporary viewer i would have been sobbing. thank god i've seen gifsets that prove this wasn't the end for her. because if i hadn't, i would have been in shambles. i mean i Was in shambles but like i would have been bawling on the floor.

cig man is with skinner. i honestly didn't think we'd get up to any sort of fbi related tasks in this episode, but he hands skinner a report and leaves. and then mulder comes in and denies being involved with the shootout at the hospital

(it's worth noting that he is doing all the denying to be an ass to skinner, and yells about "how does it feel, all the denial")

and he says that it was "cancer man" who took scully. i had been calling him cigarette man, but cancer man is very comparable.

the next thing i wrote was "SKINNER IS A BITCH????" this was because he said that mulder is "just as responsible" as cancer man for scully's situation if he knew the risks of this line of work and didn't warn her.

skinner baby YOU CAN'T SAY THAT? seriously i cannot figure this guy out. every time i think i have a read on him he does something like this that shifts my interpretation. what a horrible thing to say to someone.

cut to scully cam. she's on a table in metaphysical land. and her dad is there. he calls her starbuck and refers to himself as ahab- so the first mate and the captain. and he's monologuing about how he never knew how much he loved her until he realized he could never be with her again, and he says they'll be together "soon", but not now. so i'm wondering if she can hear all of this going on. i would guess so.

mulder is in the cafeteria with melissa and she is trying to talk a bit of sense into him. she says "you could spend the rest of your life finding every person that's responsible and its still not gonna bring her back" and he replies "including myself?"

now usually i would say that mulder taking the blame upon himself is tragic and typical, but here, having it also been implied by skinner AND deep throat 2.0, i am thinking, man, he's got to really believe it, even more so than all the other times he couldn't save everyone. which is. fucked up. so immensely fucked up. i'm sorry you pissed me off last episode baby but we can go to the zoo again like i planned. let's go see some tigers and cheer you up.

a woman walks in and asks him for change for the "cigarette machine", which was the first time in my life i have ever heard the term "cigarette machine", so maybe the earth really is healing

but he finds a pack with an address in it, and then, straight from my notes:

"CIG MAN'S HOUSE. OH MULDER IS THERE AND POINTING A GUN AT HIM. AND ALSO SCREAMING. "why her" oh his finger gets very close to the trigger"

cig man says he likes her and mulder, and. wow. what a despicable human being. he says that he likes mulder more for showing up to his place with a gun. says he's playing the game. mulder seems to have a realization he is acting just like those he swore to destroy and puts the gun down. cig man says it'll be their secret. and also that he was the one that told skinner that mulder shot the guy in the hospital even though he didn't think it was true.

we next see mulder sadly tapping at his computer. he prints a one sentence resignation letter "effective immediately" NOT even a two week's notice, that's how bad they fucked this man up

skinner comes by and says it's unacceptable while mulder is packing all of his things. and mulder says:

"i hate what i've become"

man. fuck. he hates the rage he has been driven to. the loss of control. the way he sees himself as being responsible for deep throat and scully. and all of it stemming from his need for answers, to track down his sister. he hates what that feeling of insufficiency has led him to and the path he now walks upon. hates it. hates his situation and himself and the world.

skinner decides to share some personal story time: he went off to vietnam- willingly enlisting on his 18th birthday. and then while he was there he shot a kid who was covered in grenades. the camera glances back at mulder occasionally, who, despite all of his grief, seems to be consulting his oxford training to try and remember what you're supposed to say to a guy who just told you he killed a child in vietnam.

and then he says he watched all his friends die and that he almost died- he was put in a body bag, and was in a coma for two weeks- and he was too scared to learn what happens next. but mulder isn't. and that's why his resignation is unacceptable.

mulder adds things up and realizes that it was skinner that gave him cancer man's location. again. complicating the vibe i get from skinner in doing something positive now. he says that every day is a risk.

deep throat 2.0 rolls up, saying that the people who did this to scully are going to break into his apartment tonight, and he'll have to kill them. he looks displeased by this- aversion to taking any sort of lives- but resigns himself to it.

so he's in his place in the dark ready to start blasting, when he gets a knock on the door. and it's melissa.

this is where we get the iconic exchange "why is it so dark in here?" "because the lights aren't on" which made me laugh so thoroughly seeing it out of context before i ever decided to watch this show

and melissa is MAD. scully is weakening, and she came to get him to say his goodbyes, but he won't go because. well. shootout is about to go down. this is his ONE chance to learn who did this to scully. but she doesn't know that is why he won't leave, so she YELLS at him, about being in a place even darker than her sister, and asks "why is it so much easier for you to run around trying to get even than just expressing to her how you feel? i expect more from you. dana expects more from you"

and man. those words are heavy. he locks the door, knowing that his place is gonna be robbed, and that he'll never know who hurt her, and comes down to see her.

and he's talking to her. holding her hand. saying he's here. he doesn't know if it'll change anything, but he's here.

when he goes home, his place is entirely ransacked, and he falls to the ground crying. fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. i can't even put into words how bad this broke me. big strong mulder weeping on the ground, his career in shambles and his best friend dead.

i feel like i need to pause there just for how heavy it was. like this was his lowest low. lower than even vampire sex.

but he soon gets a call and he smiles so wide!!! and we learn her eyes are open!! it is the sweetest smile i have ever seen!!!!!!

he gets down to the hospital and she's awake and talking- but she doesn't remember anything- and he, being the insufferable man that he is, says the following:

"i brought you a present (holds up a vhs tape) superstars of the superbowls"

man. man. man. man. she deadpans so quickly. "i knew there was a reason to live"

he must have grabbed a random tape off his shelf and brought it to her with the express intent of antagonizing her back in the realm of the living. and he thought of something to say along with it on the car ride down, his hands shaking. something, anything to make her laugh. a stupid vhs tape. his constant sports references. her quick tongue. oh dear lord help me these two have ruined me.

he gives scully her necklace back, which i wrote about in all caps, while her mother and sister watch

and then we learn that the nurse who was taking special care of her was never actually there when scully wants to thank her and the other nurse is like "um no one who works here has that name" so. SCULLY PARANORMAL EXPERIENCE (POSITIVE)??!?!?!?

overall. man. i am experiencing such a volume of emotions. what the hell. she's back, though. and we saw how much she means to him. and i feel like i could type a million words on the subject but i don't even know what to say because they're still all stuck in my chest. they love each other sososo much.

will he ever tell her what he did in her absence? how he tried to quit? how he broke every rule trying to save her? how he screamed at the doctors, how he broke into cigarette man's house, how he almost pulled the trigger? how he watched a man die when deep throat 2.0 shot him? how he was blamed for her condition by himself and by others? how he left his apartment to be ransacked, giving up his one chance to catch whoever did this to her, to try and let go of his grief and be with her instead? or will he keep quiet except for the latest witticisms and frequent visits and presents and stories by her bedside while she gains strength and recovers?

and how he left, too, when he knew she was okay. how he must have wanted to be there more than anything in the world, but knew she needed to rest, so he left her with her family. how he could breathe easy again. how he had to make it seem like it was cool, and everything was contained.

man. this tv show. i just typed all of those words out and i still feel like i didn't even begin to cover the things i'm feeling. i feel like i need to shake them up and down.

but this should be good, because the x files are reopened... so are we seriously, as the kids say, so back? only time will tell!

[shima-draws]

I haven't watched more than like, 8 episodes of once piece, but i just want to say that i'm loving your live(?) blogging of the episodes as you go. especially all the sanji x luffy, it's all very cute in general but also how excited you get about it is fantastic.

that's all! i just love seeing people passionately enjoy things.

AAGFGHGHF THANK YOU OMG........I feel like I've been REALLY annoying talking about Sanlu nonstop but I'm glad at least somebody is enjoying it lmao. But if there's one place where I SHOULD have no filter and feel free to talk about my ships constantly, it should be my own blog right. LOL

Essentially,