#i collect a lot of 'coffee table' books also

[lale-txt]

❥ subtle ways they say "I love you" without saying it ↳ w/ Nanami, Ino, Toji & Naoya

a/n: gn!reader for Nanami, Toji & Ino, f!reader for Naoya! somehow i got carried away writing these and halfway through wondered if i should have just made single fics for each of them... oh well ♡-(๑˙ー˙๑)-♡

word count: 1.5k

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Nanami needs his sweet time until he’ll put his feelings into proper words, part of him too afraid to pursue love during his time as jujutsu sorcerer, but his actions have always been louder than words anyway

his love is stored in the smallest gestures, like fixing the collar of your shirt or helping you put on a necklace, not letting you go without kissing the back of your neck gently, his lips lingering on your skin for a heartbeat longer than expected

when you’re in a bookstore together, his eyes always follow you around even when you’re looking at different shelves; he observes which books you pick up and put back again because you have too many unread ones at home (both of you are terrible book hoarders), just so he can go back another day and get you the one book you really wanted

sometimes he’ll also make the time to read it before he gifts it to you, small scribbled thoughts on the side so you can discuss them together later–a tiny book club of two lovers

in the comfort of your home, Nanami is also incredibly touchy, never not seeking skin contact; anything will do, even if it’s just linked pinkies across the table while you’re having your morning coffee and sharing the newspaper

his love will seep into you with every gaze, every smile, every kiss you share

with you, Nanami can let his guard down; he can allow himself to just be loved, with his head in your lap as you run your fingers through his hair, charming out sweet sounds from his throat that sound a lot like “I love you” if you listen closely

if he has to leave for a solo mission, Nanami will leave a handwritten note on the table for you to find in the morning, nothing too cheesy but enough to remind you that you’re always on his mind

and if you show him your collection of notes one day, stored in a box in your closet, a smile will play upon his lips, asking you if you really kept all of them (even if some of them just say things like “Can you buy eggs while I’m out? I want to make us waffles for breakfast tomorrow” or “I watered your dying plant on the top shelf. xx”) 

there’s wonder in his eyes when he looks at you, as if he sometimes finds it hard to believe that your love is mutual, that he’s allowed to experience this during his lifetime, and the quiet hope that maybe, maybe this can last forever

❦ 𝐈𝐍𝐎

Ino’s love for you is written all over his face: the way it lights up when he sees you, the confident yet boyish smirk when you compliment him, the gleam in his eyes when you call out for him

it’s in his touch, too

his fingers playing with yours when you’re sitting somewhere together, always fidgeting with them as if he couldn’t believe that he really gets to hold your hand

or the arm that sneaks around your waist when you’re on the train together and it’s crowded, his body shielding you from the other passengers and giving you some space to breathe (plus–how convenient–he can steal a kiss from your lips without anyone looking, too)

Ino also walks you home at any given occasion, whether it’s after a night out with your senpais or after a mission you’ve been on together; he doesn’t mind that he lives in a different neighborhood or if he has to get up early the next day, he rather wants to know you’re home safely

when you’re apart, Ino and you keep texting with each other throughout the day, his lips curling into a smile whenever your name lights up on his screen

Ino will text you everything and anything that reminds him of you and it’s plenty and in the most mundane things

[img.attached] “saw this chonky cat on my mission. u would have loved to give them belly rubs. Nanami said i’m not allowed to take them home with me”

[new text] “i think we should adopt a cat one day. maybe two so it doesn’t get lonely. knowing us we’ll also adopt a third”

[voice message] “babe can you hear this? i’ve never heard a cat purr like this. (sounds of rustling and Ino sweet talking to the cat, it’s purring very loudly)”

[new text] “i hope the cat distribution system chooses us next”

being loved by Ino means being part of his future and his dreams; he’s thinking of you always and can’t imagine a life without you in it, so listen closely when he tells you all about it

❦ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji isn’t shy to admit his love verbally, whispered into your ear at night, his voice bourbon raspy, making sure you never forget how your own name sounds when rolled off his lips

being in love makes him domestic; Toji grew up not knowing what a warm home is, and so he’ll strive to make his place one for you both to hide from the world outside

it’s like your presence is a reminder that even someone like him is allowed to love, and be loved in return

Toji brings you your favorite beverage to bed in the morning, urging you not to get up just yet (he also wants to slip back under the covers with you)

if you really have to get up on on cold mornings though, Toji will give you his worn and warmed up sweater for you to wear so you won’t be freezing

he also slips pocket warmers into your coat before you leave the house and gives you the deepest kiss, almost as if his biggest concern is that you stay warm

cooking isn’t Toji’s strong suit but he’ll get you takeout, even if it means driving across the whole town to get you that one dish from that specific restaurant that you’re craving (and some dessert on top); your big smile once he returns home is his solely reward

after seeing you struggle with opening a jar of jam once, Toji will go around the kitchen and loosen the lids of all the jars for you. every single one of them. there won’t be even one jar left that gives you any further troubles

it’s endearing in a way, how Toji always takes the fastest route to solve your struggles (there’s barely anything he can’t solve with his hands)

with love, it all comes down to warmth for Toji: the heat of your body when he has his arms wrapped around you. letting you warm up your cold hands on his stomach (he tries his best not to flinch). sharing a hot bath while you’re getting snowed in.

to Toji, you are his sun, the one who brought back colors into his life and who showed him what it means to live despite everything; he may be blinded by your light but he doesn’t need to see to find your lips in every universe 

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀

Naoya doesn’t do love, he prefers to be worshiped and adored over admitting his feeling for you

yet still, he has his ways of showing that you actually mean something more to him than just being his trophy wife

the kitchen staff and servants have been drilled to cook all of your meals exactly to your liking, and he’ll look overly pleased with himself over dinner when he notices that you enjoy the food, proud of himself as if he was the one who prepared it for you (smug bastard that he is)

there’s always an air of possessiveness around him when you’re with him; as if he wants the whole world to know that you’re his wife, even insisting you walk by his side instead of behind him, always one hand around your waist or in the back of your neck, making sure to keep you close

even though it displeases him that you want to spent time apart from him, he made sure that you get a room of your own in the Zen’in estate after your arranged marriage (he still lingers around often until you kick him out)

he insists on sharing a bed at night though–it’s when he gets surprisingly clingy, insisting to hold you close, his hands playing with anything he can get a hold of: your hair, the hem of the pajamas he picked out for you in the color he thinks suits you best, the ring on your finger that proofs you’re his

Naoya can be surprisingly gentle in those moments when it’s just the two of you–no family and no servants around

his sharp yellow eyes study your features thoroughly, ignoring the pull at his heart strings when he picks up an eyelash from your cheeks and holds it out for you when you make a wish

he’s dying to know what you wished for, but he doesn’t ask; part of him scared it doesn’t involve him, part of him too prideful to believe you could wish for something that doesn’t include him, because at the end of the day you still belong to him–or is it the other way around?

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #ino x reader #naoya x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk fluff #nanami kento #ino takuma #toji fushiguro #naoya zenin #nanami kento x reader #ino takuma x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #naoya zenin x reader #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios

[rheya28]

The Crown [ Lounge + Bar] ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Welcome to The Crown, a haven of refined indulgence that seamlessly shifts from an upscale morning restaurant and lounge to a sophisticated evening gentlemen's club. In the daylight hours, experience culinary delights in an ambiance of polished dark wood accents, moody lights, and soft jazz.

As the sun sets, The Crown transforms into an intimate and stylish club, where discreet luxury meets thrilling entertainment. With an emphasis on sophistication, The Crown offers an unforgettable fusion of exquisite dining and sensual experiences in an atmosphere of opulence.

Additional Notes: ● In order for the adult club function to work, you must download the wicked whims mod [Download at your own risk]. ● This build does not have to be a club, it can be set as a restaurant, a lounge, or a bar. ● I am not 100% familiar with wicked whims so I will not be answering questions regarding the mod. However, I played around with it and did some playtesting as a club owner and everything is functioning correctly on my end. I advice that you look up tutorials if you're not sure to how this lot type works.

● Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ SPEED BUILD VIDEO

00:00 Beginning 00:02 Intro 1:25 Speed Build 15:52 Photos Sim's Featured in the video are by the talented @rhdweauni0 <3

➽ LOT DETAILS

Lot Name: The Crown Lot type: Gentlemen's Club/Str*p Club [Can be set as a lounge, restaurant or bar] Lot size: 30x30 Location: Windenburg or San MyShuno

➽ MODS

● Tool Mod by Twisted Mexi ● Wicked Whims by Turbodriver [optional: This is only required if you want to set this lot as a club] ● Functional Pool Table by Utopya

➽ CC LIST:

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading ! CharlyPancakes ● Miscellanea [books] ● Soak [ Floor pattern, wall lamp] Amelie ● Vintage Art print #3 Severinka ●Aura Bedroom - Ceiling lamp V01, V03 ● Ceiling lamp Alpha ●Industrial Light II Ceiling B, Ceiling D Sooky ● Dark Academia Victorian Oil Paintings 01 ● Horizontal Oil Painting - landscape ● Horizontal Oil Painting - Still Life ● Vertical Oil Painting - Landscape ● Vertical Oil Painting - Portrait ● Vertical Oil Painting - Still Life The Clutter Cat ● Dandy Diary pt 1, 2 ● Hello Horses FelixAndre ● Chateau [all ] ● Berlin pt 1 ● Colonial pt 2, 3 ● Florence pt 2 ● Gatsby ● Georgian ● Grove [ all ] ● London Interior ● Paris pt 2, 3 ● Soho pt 3 House of Harlix ● Harluxe ● Livin Rum ● Orjanic Harrie ● Brownstone [all] ● Baysic ● Brutalist ● Coastal pt 2, 3, 8 ● Klean pt 3 ● Kwatei ● Octave pt 2 ● Shop the look pt 1, 2 ● Spoons pt 3 ● Jardane Kiwisim4 ● Block house dining [dining chairs] Lilac Creative ● The classic Collection Little Dica ● The even Grander Piano Myshunosun ● Garden Stories [patio lights] ● Lottie [candle] ● Simmify pt 2 [book clutter] Pierisim ● Coldbrew pt 3 ● Combles [chair] ● David Apartment pt 1, 2 ● Domain du close pt 2, 3 ● MCM pt 1, 3 ● Oak House pt 4 ● Tilable ● Winter Garden pt 1, 2 ● Wood Land Ranch pt 3 Plush Pixels ● Parisian Apartment [coffee table only] Simcredible ● Bossa Nova Ceiling lamp Simplistic ● Rusticlife area rug Sixam ● Boho Bathroom [floor tiles] Taurus Design ● Lilith Chilling Areas MycupofCC ● The Modernist [wall lamp] Tuds ● Ind Syboulette ● Ratatouille [Sign ] Utopya ● Pool Table [mod]

● Tray File: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: Applez ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Patreon: Rheya28 ● Youtube: Rheya28__

#ts4 #sims 4 #thesims4 #sims #thesims #showusyourbuilds #sims 4 cc #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 builds #builds #sims 4 build #sims 4 interior #the sims 4 cc build #the sims 4 restaurant #simblr #sims 4 gentlemens club

[lackadaisycats]

Some insight into the designs and fashion of the 20s would be so cool, especially since it's kinda hard these days to sift through just costume listing :'0

Yeah, sadly, the usefulness of a Google search is greatly diminished these days. You can still find articles written by actual human beings and genuine historical garments, but you have to wade through a lot of junky costumes and AI bullshit to get there. I can't possibly fully explain 1920s fashion here, though. It's a broad enough topic to write a sizable book about...which is why people have written many books about it. Check out some books. There are things you can get pretty cheap from resellers, everything from academic screeds about the politics behind the fashion trends of the time, to clothing catalogue compilations from the 20s, to giant coffee table books full of glorious photos.

Here's a PDF version of one of those clothing catalog collections. There's an entire preface about 1920s fashion in general too.

There are some pretty well made blogs about the topic out there as well. Vintage Dancer is one of them. The front of the site is unfortunately kind of cluttered with ads for costume apparel and modern clothing inspired by the 20s, but scroll past that to the historical bits and you'll find pertinent things.

There are some great fashion YouTubers too, like Karolina Zebrowska. Although she's not focused heavily on 1920s fashion, she talks a lot about early 20th century fashion in general. She also talks a lot about the historical context of those fashions.

Also, try online museum displays. The Met Museum has a searchable collection, for instance. Look up 1920s fashion, 1920s dresses, 1920s suits, etc.

Cameras were popular and accessible in the 1920s. Look at pictures of what people actually wore. You can find these images in free government photo archives, or licensing libraries like Getty Images (you don't have to license anything to look at it). And there's always Shorpy. Poor old, underappreciated Shorpy. Their archive is searchable.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisycats #1920s #1920s fashion #history #historical clothing #fashion history

[vivwritesfics]

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter One - Spilled Coffee

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook.

He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

1.9K

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive slight choking! Forceful sex! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this

Okay so one day I was reading Stiff Competition by @roosterforme and the next day I was writing this and I haven't stopped since

Series Masterlist

Bob Floyd was a coffee man. It had started at the end of high school, when he used to wake up early to study. It continued on when he joined the navy. 

Through his first stint in Top Gun, Bob would go on regular coffee runs. They took it in turns, always going on their own and challenging each other to carry as many coffees as possible.  

It was a habit that Bob had kicked after Top Gun. He knew it was a bad habit, relying on coffee to wake up. So, he stopped.

But then he was once again at Top Gun. After graduating once, he was back again. And, once again, the coffee runs restarted. Bob redeveloped his habit for a cappuccino with chocolate sprinkles on the top. From the first sip, he couldn't remember why he had given it up.

Even after that mission, Bob stayed in California. The man from Montana stayed at Top Gun, becoming an instructor, along with Natasha Trace and Jake Seresin. Rooster returned to Virginia, said he had a girl out there. The rest of the squad returned home or were stationed overseas. It wasn't the easiest to keep up with. 

The coffee runs continued. This time, with just himself, Nat, and Jake, the coffee runs were a lot easier. Especially when the barista put the takeaway cups with one of those cup holders meant for four. 

The coffee runs changed every day. One day Nat would go. And then Jake would. And then Bob. Always one at a time, always in that order. 

Whenever Bob was on the coffee run, he looked around the café. His eyes moved from table to table, looking at the people sat there. An older couple drinking coffees by the large window, a teenager eating a sandwich with headphones covering his eyes and people on their lunch break. One at the back of the café tapped away at her computer keyboard, periodically taking a break to sip at her drink. The other sat at the table by the door, her bag on the other seat as she scribbled away in her notebook, a full mug of coffee beside it. 

Bob didn't make any other observations as he collected his coffee and turned to leave. He had both hands on the cup holder as he turned to leave the café. 

He wasn’t clumsy. Well, he sort of was. Making a mess at the hard deck while ate peanuts, that time he accidentally hit Bradley in the stomach with the pool cue. 

But Bob couldn’t deny his clumsiness when he hit the edge of her table. Maybe if his hands weren’t full, he could have caught her drink before it fell over. 

A gasp left her lips as it spilled over her notebook, staining the pages brown. The writing on it was indistinguishable beneath the coffee. 

But that wasn't what this young woman cared about, not at first. She stood as she furiously wiped off her pencil skirt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He cried, grabbing the napkin that sat under her glass. But the napkin was already soiled. 

Bob jumped into action. He put his coffees down onto her table and rushed to grab the napkin dispenser from the counter. "I'm so sorry!" He cried, grabbing napkins  and helping her to wipe off her skirt. 

But when the water stopped scalding, she stopped wiping at her skirt. Instead she dabbed the napkins at her notebook as a frustrated sigh left her lips. "Let me get you another drink," he said as he threw the used napkins in the bin. 

She shook her head at him. "No, I've got to get back to work," she muttered as she picked up her bag. She slung it over her shoulder and tucked her ruined notebook beneath her arm. 

"I'm sorry!" Bob called as he watched her disappear from the café. 

***

She sat at her desk, inspecting the darker grey patch on her skirt. It had been new, bought just the weekend before. But she didn’t much care about her skirt. That could be replaced. Sure, she'd have to take out money she didn’t have for a new one, but it was just a skirt. 

Her notebook was in front of her computer, months of work stained with coffee. The coffee had smudged her writing, making it unintelligible. It wasn't just the top pages, wasn’t just her most recent piece of writing. It was everything. 

Almost all of her writing was gone. 

Frustration ran through her. Frustration and then sadness. She couldn’t bring herself to be angry at the military man. It hadn't been his fault, really. 

But her writing was gone. It was months, years, of work. Her only way of escape and, within a matter of seconds, it was gone. 

As she sat through her shift, she tried to salvage what she could, making notes of the plot points she could remember. Tomorrow, when she went to the café, she could rebuild. This time she could spend all day there, not needing to run off to her job. 

It wasn’t easy to concentrate on her day job as she wrote down what little she could remember from her stories. But, too soon her day job was over. She still didn’t put her sopping wet, coffee stained notebook in her bag as she got ready to go. "See you Monday," she said to one of her co-worker as she pulled her jacket over her blouse and placed her bag on her shoulder. 

With her notebook on her arm, she took off. She looked down at her shoes as she rode the elevator down to the ground floor of the building she worked in. 

The elevator arrived at the ground floor far too quickly. She sucked in a breath, held her notebook against her chest and walked out of the building. Each step she took was heavy, as if her feet were reluctant to take her home. 

But her apartment building was far too close to her place of work. She opened the door and started up the dimly lit staircase, up to the top floor. Around her the yellow wallpaper was cracked and peeling. 

She missed the step ready to collapse in on itself and avoided the suspicious damp patch on the carpeted top of the stairs and pushed open the door to her apartment. 

"Hey, Ken," she said to her boyfriend, the man she shared her apartment with. Kenneth Johnson hadn't been called Kenneth since he was a boy. He went by Kenny to his friends or more importantly, Ken.

 She placed her notebook on the sofa, her bag on top of it, and hung her jacket on the back of the door. 

"Hey, Barbie," he said in a way she hated. It had been a joke back in high school - his name was Ken so, obviously, she was Barbie. "I cooked you dinner." 

*SERIOUSLY IF YOU'RE AFFECTED BY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS I'D STOP READING HERE*

She looked at the small, round table in the middle of their kitchen. 'Cooked' wasn’t exactly the word she would have used to describe the half eaten microwave dinner on the table. "Ken, where's the rest of it?" She asked, her voice light. Almost as if she was talking to child. 

The smile dropped from his face as he yanked open the fridge. "Can't you just be grateful, for once?" He growled as he opened his can of something (she didn’t look up, didn't see what he was drinking as she ate what he had left of her dinner). "I make you dinner and you just want more of it."

She ate in silence, finishing her food quickly. When she was done, she cleaned both hers and Ken's plate away. 

As soon as she was standing up and walking to the sink, Ken looked at her up and down. "What the fuck happened to the skirt I just bought for you?" He asked as he clenched his can. His grip was so tight his can crumpled, liquid spilling everywhere. 

"C'mon Ken. It was just a little spill. It's gonna wash out before Monday."

The still full can clattered to the floor, spilling beer everywhere. "It doesn't matter that it will wash out," he said, keeping his voice calm. "What matters is that you're pissing away my hard earned cash!" 

"Ken-"

Suddenly he was in her face, fingers wrapping around her hair and pulling her up. An involuntary cry left her lips and she dropped the dishes back into the sink. "Don't talk back to me," he growled, voice low. His hand snaked around her throat, but he didn't apply pressure. Not yet. "Don't ever talk back to me."

Gulping, she nodded as best she could with the way he held her. And then he let go of her hair, but he didn’t release her neck. "You know I hate doing that, baby," he whispered, stroking her cheek. It didn’t matter how gentle his touch was, it was still searing. 

There was nothing she could do but whimper as he walked her out of the kitchen, leaving the mess of the dishes and the spilt beer.

She walked willingly to the bedroom. But really, how willing is it when you fear so much for your safety?

When Ken told her to strip and get onto the bed, she did just that. "Throw this out, I can’t have you looking like a slob," he said as she stepped out of her skirt. 

"Kenny," she started to say. But, suddenly she was on the bed, laying on her stomach. "Ken, please-"

But Kenneth Johnson wasn't listening to what his girlfriend had to say. He held her body down, hand on the back of her neck as he pulled her underwear down.

He freed himself from his trousers and pushed his cock through her folds. 

There was a time where they weren't like this, a time where they really were in love. Back in high school, back when she didn't mind being Barbie and Ken, he was sweet. He brought flowers and chocolates to her while she worked weekends. He visited her regularly when she went out of state for college and moved with her to San Diego.

It was a few months after they moved to San Diego together that Ken changed. It was a few months after they moved in together that his true colours began showing. 

She didn't cry anymore. There was no point when it didn't get him to stop. 

She laid there until he came and rolled off of her. Kenny laid in the bed and rolled away from her. Still, she didn’t move. She stayed until light snores left his lips. 

Only then did she climb off of the bed. She climbed into the shower that hadn't yet heated up and scrubbed her body. Hidden in an empty tub of body lotion was birth control. Birth control that Kenny wouldn't let her take. But she couldn’t have his baby, she just couldn't.

After cleaning up the mess left in the kitchen and scrubbing at the stain in her shirt, she crawled into bed beside him, but she didn't sleep. 

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x you #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd smut #robert floyd x you #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun bob #top gun fanfiction

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 9

WC: 1431, Masterpost CW: blood, cannon typical violence, off screen civilian and first responder deaths, mentions of death

Danny and his Flash were both very busy people, there was no denying that. The good thing was that the worst of their busyness were the same events. Sure, they both had obligations outside of that. Danny had all of the other work with the outreach and now overseeing and even training other team members. Flash… well, Flash had whatever he did with the rest of his life. Danny assumed he worked, even if it was for the Justice League.

It was a little odd not knowing Flash past the mask. Danny understood, of course he did. A secret identity was important and, despite having been on several dates now, they still were getting to know each other. It wasn’t as if Danny didn’t know anything about his Flash. He knew Flash always comforted the kids first, was fiercely loyal, and couldn’t resist petting a dog. He knew Flash loved trying new foods, played video games with friends that Flash wished he saw more, and really did enjoy spoiling him. He knew a lot.

He just didn’t know Flash’s name or what family Flash had or if those freckles ran all the way across Flash’s nose.

Danny would be patient though, because he understood. It helped that he at least had Flash’s number. He didn’t know if it was a burner phone or an app or routed through a number of proxies; he hadn’t asked. The first thing Danny had done, in fact, was to send a Flash meme. It had gotten him shoved, but that had turned into a make out session on the couch, so Danny certainly wasn’t complaining.

And if Danny now kept a collection of gifs, memes, and other silly Flash things on hand to send? Well, who could blame him.

He rolled over to grab his phone from the coffee table and sent off another picture of a cat dressed up in Flash’s outfit. The amount of people dressing pets up as superheros was honestly shocking. He didn’t expect an answer right then, looking at the time, but he found it was… nice to be able to find things to send to Flash for him to find and respond to later. It made him feel connected to someone in a way that he hadn’t had in years.

Danny recognized, now, that he had been really hurting himself trying to stay so separate from everyone. One way or another, this is how things would be for the rest of his life. He couldn’t keep morning what had happened, what he had lost. Besides, he was just a civilian now, he wasn’t a danger to his friends and family anymore. So, along with Flash, Danny had started actually accepting the occasional invitation from some of his coworkers. He had even found a game store to go to and play at on the weekends.

It was harder than he thought, putting himself out there again, but his life was brighter for being around people outside of work every week or so. He had Flash to thank for that.

He also had Flash to thank for getting him addicted to the Percy Jackson books. He could personally do with less lightning, but the story had a real way of resonating with the halfa. Danny was three books in at this point and needed to know how it all finished up.

A few chapters further in a notification interrupted him.

Quick Boy: It’s not fair that a cat wears my uniform better than me!!

Danny laughed and tapped the message.

Danny: The cat is pretty cute. But I still think you wear it best. You have a better butt. 😏

The little dots wiggled as Flash typed. It was endlessly amusing to Danny that despite being, literally, super fast, Flash was slowed down by the physics of the world around him, like how fast a phone could accept input.

Quick Boy: 😳🫣🥵 Danny! Have you been checking out my butt?

Despite himself, Danny felt a blush heating up his cheeks. They hadn’t gotten any further than kissing, it didn’t feel right to go further when Danny didn’t know who Flash was, but that didn't mean Danny couldn't tease.

Danny: You run around in spandex, I can’t NOT check out your butt. Have to say, it’s a pretty good one. 10/10, would ogle again.

Quick Boy: How do you feel about ogling it in my most flattering sweatpants? Got a hold of that Japanese giant bug movie you were ranting about. I can grab food and be over to your place in about an hour?

Danny: Stop calling it that!!!You know the title! 😤

Quick Boy: I’m not typing out that title.

Danny grinned as he rolled off of the couch. If Flash was coming over, he should at least pick up a little. Danny knew Flash didn’t really care, but the pile of laundry that Danny had been avoiding folding was a bit much.

Danny: Thought you were supposed to be fast.

Quick Boy: 😒

Danny: Come on, quick boy, take the nanosecond and type it.

Quick Boy: I hate you.

Danny: No you don't~

(Danny sung along as he typed.)

Quick Boy: “Help I’ve Been Made a Holy Knight in a World of Giant Bugs and Need to Save the Prince”

Danny: Knew you could do it! Proud of you. 😘 See you in an hour! Bring Thai and ice cream!

Danny was just putting away the folded stack of laundry when an alarm on his phone screamed at him.

It was work.

Emergency alert.

All hands on deck.

Danny dashed for his door, shoving his feet in his work boots and grabbing the backup vest he kept at home. Someone would drive the trucks full of kits there, but Danny still took his little kit with him, just in case he ran into any wounded on the way.

So much for dinner and cuddling his boyfriend.

As soon as he stepped out onto the street, Danny could hear the sound of sirens and the acrid smell of smoke stung his eyes. Danny’s heart sank.

Whatever this was, it was big.

-

“Danny.”

Danny flexed his hands. Flakes of dried blood broke off and scattered in the wind.

“Danny, babe.”

He would need more gloves for his kit. Was he out? He had to be out. He changed gloves so many times. There were so many people. He had to be out of gloves. He would need more for his kit.

Other hands entered his vision, covered in bright red. Not blood red, bright red. Blood red was mostly darker than people thought. Bright blood was worse. He watched as the hands gently rolled down the gloves.

He needed more gloves.

“Not for today, babe. You’re done for today.”

He needed more gloves, there were so many people.

“Everyone is accounted for. You and the others got everyone.”

Not everyone.

How many people died under his hands today?

Were already dead when he found them?

Wouldn’t last the night?

How many people did he fail?

Too many.

“Danny.” The voice was worried now. “Come on babe, look at me, please?”

Blood had gotten under his gloves, staining his wrists.

“Babe, please.”

Warm, fabric covered hands rested on Danny’s cheeks, tilting his gaze up and away from his hands.

Oh. “Flash?”

“Hey there, babe, you with me?”

Why did he look so worried?

“Because you’re scaring me a little. I think you’re in shock.”

Oh.

“Do you have a shock blanket in your kit still?”

“No… used them all. Had to cover…”

How many people did he fail?

“Okay, that’s okay. I’m going to take you home, okay babe? Well, not my home, but where I used to live— right, that doesn’t matter now. We’re going to go and I’ll keep you safe.”

Danny motioned to a cluster of officials. “I have to—”

“I’ve already checked you out.”

“My team?”

Flash glanced down and away.

“Flash, my team?”

“They’re…. all accounted for. Larson…. He got caught in part of the building coming down. He didn’t make it. Patel was paired with him. She’s at the hospital, they think she’ll pull through.”

Danny tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to scream, to rage, to wail— it all caught up in his throat because he couldn’t. He let out a soundless sob.

Flash pulled Danny into his arms, holding him close. “I know. I know. I’m taking you home. You’ll be okay Danny. It will be okay.”

The colors of the world blurred together as Flash ran, but Danny hardly noticed.

-----

AN: So this has been 95% written since before I got sick, but just now was the first time I could get my brain to deal with it. A darker part of the story, I know, but it felt needed. Danny's doing a very, very hard job and one made all the worse because Danny used to be able to do more and now he can't. (Though I have no doubt he pushed use of his powers further than was really safe in this.)

Stay safe and delightful, my darlings!

I no longer tag people for several reasons, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead to be notified! (May notify this part slightly later, I am queuing it.)

#dp x dc #danny fenton/wally west #quick death #abson

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

  Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

 Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

*

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

——————————————————————

Up Next

Chapter 2

#dean x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader

[milliondollarwomen]

Fateful Meetings

Thomas Webb x Reader

Word Count 2.6k

Hello! This is something I wrote up the other night cause I feel there isn't a whole lot about Callum Turner. This is just an intro and if you guys like it I will write more! Enjoy.

A knot of anxiety tightened in the pit of your stomach as the soft morning light poured through your apartment's transparent drapes and spread across the space. You had decided to meet up with your ex-boyfriend today, and while you were excited about the possibility, you were also worried.The nerves were unshakeable. And if things went wrong? What if you felt exposed and raw because old wounds reopened? You felt a mixture of excitement and fear at the prospect of confronting your history. You grabbed the bag tremblingly and made your way toward the door, each step felt more difficult than the last. You took a deep breath and ventured out onto Manhattan's busy streets, ready to take on whatever the day might bring. Even with all of your anxiety, there was a glimmer of optimism that perhaps, just possibly, this encounter would provide the closure you had been longing for.

You rounded the corner, lost in thought, only to crash into someone coming from the opposite direction. Your bag and other items fell to the ground, and you let out a startled gasp, your heart racing as you struggled to regain your balance. "I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, crouching down to gather your fallen belongings, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. A stranger knelt beside you, offering a friendly smile as he helped collect the scattered books. "No worries, happens to the best of us," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. As you reached for a stray book, your fingers brushed against his, sending a strange jolt of electricity through you. You looked up, meeting the stranger's gaze, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. "Thomas," he introduced himself, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "Nice to meet you, Thomas," you replied, returning the smile, though your heart still raced from the unexpected encounter.You packed up your things and headed to the coffee shop nearby, memories of the unexpected encounter with Thomas still circling around in your thoughts. The smell of freshly ground beans wafted through the door, a soothing reminder of the familiar scent that still danced in your stomach. Your ex was already there, seated at a corner table, their gaze fixated on their phone as they waited for you. As you approached, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you—nostalgia mingled with apprehension, memories of both laughter and heartache flooding your mind. With a forced smile, you greeted them, sliding into the seat opposite theirs. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, a silent tension that hung heavy in the space between you.

"Hey, it's been a while," you greet him as you meet up, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yeah, it has. Thanks for meeting up," he responds casually. The conversation continues, the usual pleasantries exchanged, but there's an underlying tension you can't shake. Finally, unable to hold it back any longer, you ask him, "Why did you even bring me here? If all you wanted was to check in, why did you make it seem like there was something more?" His expression falters, caught off guard by your question. "I... I didn't mean to mislead you. I genuinely just wanted to make sure you were okay," he stammers, apologetic. You shake your head, unable to hide the hurt in your voice. "It's just... it's hard, you know? To see you and not feel like there's still something between us. And then to find out that there isn't... it hurts." He's at a loss for words, realizing the impact of his actions. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize... I'll leave you alone. Goodbye," he murmurs, before walking away, leaving you feeling more confused and hurt than ever. As you gather your things, a heaviness settles in your chest, and you wonder if closure will ever come, knowing you need to find the strength to move on from what could have been. As you stepped out onto the bustling city streets, the weight of the conversation with your ex still heavy on your mind, your phone buzzed in your pocket, interrupting the tumultuous thoughts swirling within you. With a sigh, you pulled it out to see your best friend's name flashing on the screen. "Hey," you answered, trying to sound more composed than you felt. "Hey, are you free tonight?" your friend's voice came through the line, laced with excitement. You hesitated, the events of the day leaving you feeling drained and emotionally spent. The last thing you wanted was to put on a brave face and pretend like everything was okay. But then again, maybe a night out with your best friend was exactly what you needed—a chance to escape the weight of your thoughts and lose yourself in the simple pleasures of the present moment."Yeah, I think I could use a distraction," you admitted reluctantly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips."Great! I'll swing by your place in a couple of hours. Get ready for a night to remember!" your friend exclaimed. With a newfound sense of anticipation, you hung up the phone and headed back to your apartment, the promise of a night out with your best friend offering a glimmer of light in the darkness. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would be the reset button you needed—a chance to leave the worries of the past behind and embrace the joy of the present.

You found yourself standing in front of the mirror, struggling with a whirlwind of contradictory feelings as the evening approached and the possibility of spending the night out with your best friend grew closer. You were feeling uneasy about the day's events and your head was still spinning from the encounter with your ex. A nagging thought of your brief interaction with Thomas earlier in the day crept into the corners of your mind as you started getting ready, carefully applying makeup and choosing the perfect dress. His name stirred feelings you'd tried to push under the surface of the evening's distractions, resonating in your mind like a whisper on the wind. However, you soon dismissed the concept, telling yourself there was little to no chance of ever seeing him again. Considering the size of New York City, the likelihood of a coincidental meeting on the streets was minimal at most. You gave a resolute shake of your head to drive away any thoughts of Thomas and bring your attention back to the task at hand. It was a night to let go of the past and embrace the present, with your best friend by your side. As your best friend's taxi pulled up outside your apartment building, you felt a surge of excitement mingled with apprehension. Rushing out to meet her, you greeted her with a warm smile, the events of the day momentarily pushed to the back of your mind as you embraced the promise of the night ahead. "Hey, thanks for picking me up," you said, sliding into the back seat of the taxi beside her."No problem at all! Ready for a fun night out?" she replied, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Definitely," you answered, the corners of your lips turning up into a grin. "It's been a long day, but I'm ready to let loose." As the taxi merged into the flow of traffic, the two of you engaged in light-hearted small talk, discussing everything from work gossip to weekend plans. The hum of the city buzzed around you, a comforting backdrop to the easy camaraderie you shared with your friend. Before you knew it, the taxi pulled up outside a cozy-looking jazz bar, its neon sign casting a warm glow against the evening sky. The sound of live music spilled out onto the sidewalk, beckoning you inside with promises of soulful melodies and lively atmosphere. "Here we are!" your friend exclaimed, excitement evident in her voice as she paid the fare and stepped out onto the sidewalk.You followed suit, a sense of anticipation building in the pit of your stomach as you made your way towards the entrance of the bar.

As you and your best friend settled onto the barstools, the soft glow of the jazz bar enveloping you, you couldn't help but feel grateful for her comforting presence. Ordering a round of cocktails, you took a moment to savor the lively atmosphere and the anticipation of the night ahead."So, spill the tea," your best friend exclaimed, leaning in with a mischievous grin. "How did the conversation with your ex go?" You took a deep breath, knowing that your best friend was never one to mince words. "It was... okay, I guess," you replied, swirling the ice in your glass. "He just wanted to check in and make sure there were no hard feelings." Your friend's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Seriously? That's it?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with incredulity. "After everything he put you through, that's all he has to say?" You shrugged, feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Yeah, pretty much. But I guess it's for the best," you replied, trying to keep your tone light. Your best friend shook her head, her expression one of fierce determination. "You deserve so much better than that," she declared, her voice ringing with conviction. "You deserve someone who sees your worth and treats you like the queen you are." You couldn't help but smile at her words, feeling a warmth spread through you at the unwavering support of your best friend. Raising your glasses in a silent toast, you clinked them together with a sense of solidarity. "To better days and finding someone who truly deserves you," your friend proclaimed, her eyes sparkling with determination. "To better days," you echoed. As you clinked glasses with your best friend, the vibrant energy of the jazz bar pulsed around you, filling the air with a sense of anticipation and excitement. With a shared grin, your friend grabbed your hand and led you towards the small area where people were swaying to the rhythm of the live band. But as you followed her, your gaze inadvertently drifted towards the entrance, and there, amidst the dimly lit crowd, you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It was him—Thomas, the man you had bumped into earlier on the street. And to your surprise, he was looking right back at you. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as your eyes met, the connection crackling with an unspoken electricity that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was intense, unwavering, as if drawn to you by some unseen force. As the realization of the moment sunk in, a jolt of nervous energy coursed through you, your heart pounding in your chest. What were the odds of running into him again, especially in a city as vast as New York? But before you could gather your thoughts, your best friend tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the dance floor with an excited grin. "Come on, let's dance!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the brief exchange you had just shared. With a fleeting glance back at Thomas, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the music and the infectious energy of the crowd.

As the music swirled around you, you and your best friend danced with abandon, the infectious energy of the jazz band filling the air with an undeniable sense of joy. But as she twirled off to chat with a handsome stranger she'd just met, you found yourself drifting towards the bar, craving the solace of a quiet moment amidst the lively chaos of the club. As you leaned against the polished wood, waiting for the bartender to notice you, a gentle tap on your shoulder caused you to turn around. And there he stood—Thomas, the man whose gaze had lingered in your mind since your chance encounter earlier in the day. "Hey," he said, his voice soft yet filled with an unmistakable intensity. "Hi," you replied, your heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and curiosity. "Crazy meeting you here." "Yeah, what are the odds?" he chuckled, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine.As the two of you fell into an easy conversation, the noise of the bar faded into the background, leaving only the sound of your voices and the steady beat of your heart. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in this moment, suspended in time.

"So, how was your day?" Thomas asked, his gaze soft yet filled with an underlying intensity. You hesitated for a moment, surprised by the genuine interest in his eyes. "It was... eventful, to say the least," you replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I ran into my ex earlier, and let's just say it was more awkward than I anticipated." Thomas nodded, a sympathetic expression crossing his features. "I know the feeling," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "My day wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows either. I found out that my dad is cheating on my mom, and I... I confronted the other woman." Your heart went out to him, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. "I'm so sorry," you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. "That sounds incredibly difficult." Thomas offered you a grateful smile, his eyes meeting yours with a sense of vulnerability that took your breath away. "Thanks," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a rough day, but talking to you somehow makes it feel a little bit better." You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a sense of connection blossoming between you like a fragile flower in the darkness. It was strange, this inexplicable bond that had formed between two strangers in the span of a single conversation, but somehow it felt right. Eventually Thomas had ordered you a drink and once you both finished your drinks, he glanced towards the corner of the jazz club, where a vintage photo booth stood, invitingly lit. With a charming smile, he suggested, "Hey, want to check out that photo booth?" Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you nodded eagerly, saying, "I’m always up for a good photoshoot." You both made your way over to the booth, anticipation building with each step. As you stepped inside the cozy space, the curtain closed behind you, cocooning you two in privacy. “Okay what should we do first?” He asks “There's no fun in planning it, I'll just hit start and we will figure it out” you say Laughing, you two tried out different poses, capturing candid moments of joy and connection. The camera flashed, freezing your smiles and laughter in timeless snapshots. As the last photo was about to be taken, Thomas locked eyes with you, a flicker of something intense passing between us. Without breaking the gaze, he slowly lowered his gaze to your lips, a silent question lingering in the air. And in that moment, as if drawn by an irresistible force, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. Time seemed to stand still as you guys shared a tender, electric kiss in the dimly lit confines of the photo booth, the world outside fading away into insignificance.

#callum turner x reader #callum turner #thomas webb #thomas webb x reader #callum turner fic #callum turner x you #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #callum turner fanfiction

[pit-and-the-pen]

I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 4

A/n: So I’m pivoting a little bit with this series. In the last chapter, I had reader with Rhys a lot and I’m fighting the urge to rewrite it, but from here on out it’s going to be a lot more of the inner circle stuff while Rhys and Feyre are doing their own thing. I didn’t like how much  I relied on the dialogue straight from the book for chapter 3 so hopefully this makes it a little better to write and more interesting to read! 

Strap in because a lot happens in this chapter. Also this is mostly unedited because my brain in soup at this point.

Warnings: Cannon level description of violence, blood, brief mention of trauma (Rhys and Readers history with Tamlin), suggestive thoughts/language (as always let me know if I missed anything)

WC:19k

Previous chapters: [prologue] [chapter 1][chapter 2][chapter 3]

“I don’t get why I wasn’t invited.” Cassian whined, leaning back in the wide backed chair. I knocked his feet from their place on the coffee table and he stumbled as the legs of the chair touched the ground.

“Because last time you were there you fucked someone’s wife and destroyed their house in your attempt to get away.” 

“In my defense, she didn’t tell me she was married.” He grumbled out, crossing his arms like the petulant child he was. 

“Try telling that to her husband.” I continued to tease him. 

“I did.” 

“Children, children.” Mor chided Cassian and I. A bored wave of her hand causing Cassian to turn his attention to her instead. I smiled widely as the two of them started going back and forth. 

Eventually Rhys and Azriel came to collect Cassian. 

“Sorry, boys night.” My brother said, shooting me a wink when I tried to argue. “Don’t pout at me.”

“They’re just afraid they’d lose their ass if they let us play.” Mor returned, all of the males sputtering out a chorus of protests. 

True to their word, they didn’t let Mor or myself join them. Going as far as to lock the door to Rhys’ study. Their loud shouts could be heard from where Mor and I sat together down the hall. 

Mor was swiping the second layer of a silver and black sparkle nail polish on my hand. 

“Are you nervous about going to summer?” She asked casually. 

“Hardly.” Even I wasn’t convinced by my words. Mor raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me. “Fine. I’m just worried we won’t get the book. We’ve only tested this theory of Feyre’s powers once and that was Rhys’ magic.”

“You think the bond could let her sense it.” I nodded.

“It’s not impossible. Even if she hasn’t accepted it. She could be inherently drawn to things that have ties to him. I just have to hope my brother is right.” I stopped talking to start blowing my nails dry. Shaking them slightly while I did so. Mor turned to her own nails, brushing a blood red polish over them. 

The summer court was just as beautiful as I remember it. I was immediately greeted by the smell of sea salt, even the sunshine smelt different. The humidity in the air laced it with something I could not put my finger on but warmed every part of my body. My skin felt instantly sticky, suddenly very grateful for the flowing white halter dress I had picked for myself that morning. 

Even though it was early in the morning, the city below the palace was already teeming with life. Merchant carrying various baskets full of goods, ships sailing in and out of the docks. The rope bridges swayed slightly in the breeze as people flurried about. 

We had winnowed right in front of the palace. The purple and green sea glass doors opened at our arrival. It had been at least a century since the last time I visited this place, enough time that I was in awe of the scene in front of me. As much as I loved my home Velaris, there was something about the lightness of this palace that called to me. The full walls of sea glass and shells embedded into the floor, covered with some shiny surface that didn’t make it painful to walk on.Light chiffon fabric  in pastel purples, seafoam green, baby pinks, and, buttery yellows adorned the chairs and curtains. The sun that shone through the glass walls tinted with all the colors around us. I was still gawking when Tarquin approached us. The time since he came back had been kind to him. His dark skin more bronzed and his long white hair was  braided and adorned with various shells, he was heart stoppingly handsome.The power of a high lord circled him, but unlike Rhys, it carried a certain warmth to it. An aura of safety and security. I swore the water flowing from the fountains around us bubbled harder at his arrival. 

“Welcome. I see you like the changes I’ve made” He winked at me, eyes still flickering about. 

“I believe you’ve met before, although not since your…promotion.” Tarquin eyed Amren before he gave her a polite bow. Amren bit back a greeting that reminded me of what others saw us as. Cold and calculating. 

“And you two were never formally introduced under the mountain. Feyre, Tarquin.” Tarquin’s face set into a tight line as his eyes swept over the revealing dress Feyre was wearing. Even more see-through with the sunlight in the room. Rhys let out a lewd comment and Feyre returned her own before I  could even think to grimace. 

Another's presence in the room had me looking over Tarquins shoulder. I tried to keep my face even as I spotted Cresseida. The female and I had grown closer than anyone else in the court during my last visit. She shot me a wicked smile before Tarquin introduced her, a claiming hand resting on her shoulder. My eyebrow raised to her and she shrugged her shoulders. A promise of explaining later in her dark brown eyes. Varian was next to be introduced. As captain of Tarquins guard, I did not fault him for the way he sized all of us up, especially Amren. 

Our group followed Tarquin through the hallways of the palace. Rhys and the High Lord making polite small talk. Cressida and I walked in step together. 

The room Tarquin led us to was just as beautiful as the rest of the palace. High ceilings speckled with those same pastel colors, a wide open window showcasing the vibrant water of the sea, so rich in color it appeared almost teal. Feyre gravitated towards the window, like her feet were working on their own. The Summer High Lord approached her side and I tried to keep up with their hushed conversation. Rhys took a seat at the table in the middle of the room and motioned for me to do the same. Rolling my eyes as the others approached, I grabbed Cressida’s arm and led her to a set of couches a bit away from the others. “We’ll leave all the important talk to the high lords and generals.” I said, sinking into that vapid facade I carried when I wasn’t expected to be Rhys’ terrifying counterpart. He gave me a bored look of dismissal. 

“You must tell me everything.” I nearly squealed at Cressida, loud enough for the others to hear. 

“There isn’t much to tell, Tarquin is adjusting to being High Lord quite well. However, suddenly it was…He’s a good change from before.” So not interested in her advances then. Her eyes flickered over to the table where the rest sat. 

“Are you not in contact with Tamlin then, Feyre?” The question was laced with challenge and accusations. The idea that she was in not one but two high lords beds a grave insult. 

“My relationship with the High Lord of spring is none of your concern.” She bit back, the perfect edge of regal and warning in her voice. 

“Good, I’d hate to have to return you to your master.” Even from across the room I saw Amren go deathly still. I gave Cressida a small tap on her shoulder, a playful move that warned her to hold her tongue. She gave me a withering glare as Tarquin reprimanded her for her words. 

She turned back to me, mouth opening to continue our conversation as Rhys spoke. If I hear word that she or anyone else sends news of our being here to Tamlin, your lives will be forfeit. I heard the tone of promise. The air growing deathly still as his words registered to the High Lord.I took a deep sip of my wine as feyre whispered out something that had Tarquin laughing. The room seemed to take a collective sigh at the sound. Tarquin was a good change indeed. Cressida sank back into her chair as she looked me over. 

“You look well.” She said once the conversation in the room resumed. I nodded, setting down my glass on the table beside me.

“Fresh air will do that to a person.” My not so subtle reminder to her that she had not been under the mountain. She gave a small hum. “It seems the court has recovered nicely.”  

It was her turn to grow tense. “It was not without hard work, as I’m sure you can relate to. Having a sudden change in high lord and losing half our population has not made it easy to rebuild, but we’ve managed this far.” She sighed, looking at Tarquin who was now laughing with Rhys. “He has made things easier. Gave my brother and I much more control over the efforts than the previous High lord would have.” I took in her words, the tension in her shoulders and heard the tone of someone who had sacrificed a great deal for her court. Something I very much understood. I felt shame rise in my throat at my earlier comments. She might not have been under the mountain but she, and many others in Prythian, had suffered just as much because of it. I’d imagine it would be impossible to find someone who was not affected. 

“Enough about me though, tell me how’ve you been?” Her tone switched back to one of light gossip. I took a deep sip of my wine as I gave her a half-true recounting of the last few months. 

Cressida walked me back to my room, pointing out things around the palace while doing so. Explaining the bits of work that were still in planning. She gestured to my room and said her goodbyes, promising to find me at the party tonight. 

I let out a heavy sigh as the door closed behind me. I had forgotten how exhausting court politics was. How heavy the role Rhys and I played was. Instead of lingering on that, I quickly changed into my clothes for tonight. A flowy dress that mimicked the fashion of the court but with Night Court colors. Silvers and midnight blues, silver chains fastening the dress around my neck. I left the tiara I would pin in my hair on the edge of my bed as I walked out onto the balcony attached to my room. I stared out at the crashing waves, sitting in the sound that they brought with them. The tide was coming in stronger now that it was mid-afternoon. On the horizon I saw the colorful sails of merchant and travel ships bobbing on the water. I leaned against the railing, letting myself become almost hypnotized by the motion of the water around me. I don’t know how long I stayed staring out at the water but Rhys knocking at my door told me it had been at least a few hours. Rhys walked up to my side, leaning against the railing. 

“It's definitely a nice view.” He says, snapping me out of my trance. I only nod. 

“I wish we didn't have to do this.” 

“Which part?”

“I don’t know all of it. The sneaking and the games. I just wish it could change.” I said, voice barely above a whisper. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. 

“It will be. Once this war is over. That’s what we're fighting for.” He gave a little squeeze before I sighed heavily. 

“I hope that’s how the others see it.” He nodded and I pulled away from his side. Walking back into the room. I picked up my tiara and slid it into my hair. I adjusted my makeup in the mirror on the vanity.  Looking at Rhys I gave a dramatic twirl. 

“How do I look?” He rolled his eyes at the question.

“Every bit the Night Court princess. Now will you please hurry up, we’re already late enough.” I stuck my tongue out at him as we walked out of the room. 

The ship was beautiful. It could fit double the amount of Fae than it was currently holding. Feyre, Rhys and Amren stayed close together while I mingled amongst those who would actually talk to me. Cressida found me at some point in the night, pushing a glass of wine into my hand. I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between her and Mor. Making me wonder just what sat behind her own mask. We got along fine but years of not speaking had made our friendship dissolve. Rhys made his way over to Cressida and I, giving Feyre space to talk to Tarquin. He tried to play the aloof High Lord but I saw the way his eyes kept floating over to Feyre, the way his shoulders stiffened at every smile Tarquin gave her. Cressida must have sensed the tension too because she leaned across the table to reach for my brother's hand, purposefully leaning over to expose her cleavage to him. I tried not to roll my eyes at her attempt to get his attention. 

He gave her a sleepy smile and pointed to the seat next to him. She gave Feyre a lingering glance before she stood up and all but climbed into his lap. I didn’t hold back my eyeroll this time. She shot me a wide grin. “You don’t mind do you?” She asked in a coy voice. 

“By all means, don’t let me stop you. But you should be asking him.” She pouted at my brother who nodded his head, his hand drifting to the small of her back. I downed the rest of my wine before standing up to get more. I had no interest in seeing him lean down to whisper in his ear. I noticed Feyre spared a glance our way, quickly looking back to Tarquin when she spotted Cressida’s new seat. Before I knew it, Feyre was on her feet. Walking away to a less crowded spot on the ship, leaving a very confused looking Tarquin behind her. Taking the opportunity, I joined him at the table. 

“I hope I didn’t upset her.” He joked when I sat down beside him.

“She can be a little…touchy where my brother is concerned. Pay no mind.” I waved my hand to punctuate my words. Tarquin just took a deep sip of his wine. 

We made light conversation, asking each other about our courts and each only giving as much information as was polite. My eyes tracked Rhys movements as Cressida pulled him from his seat and across the deck of the ship. A deep laugh came from the High Lord’s chest. 

“You’re not interested then?” I pointed my hand at the retreating couple, still holding my wine glass,  Another laugh from Tarquin.

“Mother no, did no one tell you she’s my cousin.” 

“Oh…” He gave me a smirk. 

“And besides,  princess. I am still young and rebuilding my court. All of that,” he waved towards the direction Cressida had pulled my brother, “can wait until after. That doesn’t mean that anyone in my court isn’t free fuck whoever they decide.” I almost shot wine from my nose at how hard I laughed, choosing an inopportune time to take a deep sip from my cup. I sputtered out an  “I’m sorry.” between coughs. He handed me a handkerchief to wipe my mouth. “I truly wasn’t not expecting you to say that. Please don’t think I was laughing at you.” 

“Never.” His voice suddenly became more serious than before. 

“Now what about you? No one has caught your eye?”

“I dare you to try with a brother like mine.” It felt wrong to so crassly talk about Rhys. LIke he was the one stopping me from what I wanted. 

“But there’s someone?” He pried. I shook my head. 

“No one that would see me that way.” It wasn’t a lie by any means. He didn’t have to know exactly why. 

“Do they happen to be blind?” I raised an eyebrow in question. “That would be the only reason I think of for someone not seeing you that way.” I didn’t fake the blush that rose on my cheeks. 

“You flatter me. But no, just… I don’t know.” I said in a tone almost boarding on a whine. He laughed again, a sound I realized I liked. We sat and talked until the sun colored the water a deep purple. I looked out at the view, once again falling into a trance as I stared out at the waves. 

“Shall I walk you back to your room?” Tarquin asked, pulling my eyes back to him. I wanted to say no. But the role I played required I saw yes. So I nodded, letting him guide me by my hand back around the palace. I was nervous as we approached my door, not knowing fully what he expected out of me. Especially not knowing exactly where Cressida had pulled Rhys to. I felt panic starting to rise in my throat until he cleared his throat. 

We were outside my door and the panic I felt must have been written across my face. 

“Don’t look so disappointed. But I was not walking you back for that.” I felt my shoulders relax and a blush settle on the tips of my ears. 

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t be. I like my partners more than willing.Enthusiastic if you will.” I laughed, which made him laugh in return.

“Good night.” I whispered to him

“Good night.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before he turned and walked off down the hallway. 

I had nothing to do until Feyre went to look for the book. And I truly had no desire to sit and gossip with Cressida after the heated looks she had been giving my brother. So I simply stayed in my room, listening to the sounds of the ocean. I tried to think of how much the rest of my family would love it here. How much they had loved it here. I lightly chuckled to myself as I remember Cassian's face as Mor winnowed him out of the court last time we had visited. It took days of debate and many apologies before the previous High Lord rescinded the blood ruby he threatened to send after Cassian.  Mor looked absolutely gorgeous with some sun on her skin, although Azriel held onto it longer much to her chagrin. I curled my knees up to my chest at the thought of Azriel. It felt almost selfish for how little I had thought about him since I’d been here. Regardless of the fact that I had no reason to feel bad, a small twinge of shame pushed its way through me. A hand rising to the center of my chest to massage the discomfort away. 

Rhys didn't come to collect me until dinner. He was curt as he announced that the rest were waiting for me, not waiting for my reply before he was leaving the room again. I rushed after to catch up with him. Feyre must have done her job well if my brother was wound this tight. 

“Anything on your mind, brother?” I asked in a sweet voice, purposefully teasing him.

“Don’t you start with me too.” So Feyre must have already talked to him. Good. Maybe he’ll finally use this to tell the poor girl. “Stop trying to meddle.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I just want to get this damned book and go back home.”

“I’m sure that’s all there is to it, Rhys.” I patted him on the back and nearly started running down the hall, suddenly very hungry. 

The days passed by slowly. As Rhys’ advisor, I was now expected to attend the various meetings Rhys had with the summer courts own advisors. I wished we could have left Amren out of these meetings, but as his second, she attended every one of them. Her presence set the others on edge, making any and all discussions freeze at random moments because she so much as shifted her body weight. 

It wasn’t until dinner the night after that Feyre almost gave herself away. One too many questions asked about the little temple in the middle of the tide. Tarquin brushed off her questions with ease but I saw the way his eyes lingered on her longer than normal, like he was sizing her up for the first time. If I blinked I would have missed it, that slight fog in his eyes. A fog that only appeared for a moment before sea green eyes were revealed once again. I shot my eyes to Rhys who shook his head. Not him then. Meaning Feyre must have been able to do that. I was both very impressed and oh so horrified. 

“I can carry you both and then keep watch” Rhys layed out the plan. Amren looked over to me. 

“And her?”

“Someone has to keep the High Lord distracted.” I grinned at her

“What a hard job to do.” She bit back at me, baring her teeth at me. I fought back the urge to do the same. 

“It’s a necessary job. Unless you want to risk Tarquin sniffing us out.” She didn’t have a response for him. “Good. Do you think you can do it?” He turned to face me and I nodded. From there we planned the rest of the details. 

The day dragged by. Tarquin, by Feyre’s suggestion, had taken her to the mainland to show her the rest of the court. That left Amren, Rhys and myself free to make some final conversation with the court advisors. Simple things like trade and training of soldiers felt wrong to discuss with a greater war on the horizon, felt too mundane. 

Evening came around eventually. Tarquin all but deposited Feyre into Rhys’ outstretched arms. He gave her a salacious smile that I wasn’t sure was entirely fake. But gave the right impression of just exactly why I was so eager to leave the palace. 

Tarquin and I walked through the city where he took me to a small bistro. The staff all smiled at him as we approached the open air restaurant. It was quaint, reminding me of something you would find in Velaris. The casual exchange between the owner and Tarquin felt very familiar. I smiled at the couple as they personally sat Tarquin and I. The restaurant had no menu, instead the meal was based on whatever the ships brought in that day and the catch of the day seemed to be crab. They brought out steaming plates and I could only stare at it. 

“I must admit, I’ve never tried crab before.” I picked up one of the legs in front of me, taking note of the hard shell. Tarquin smiled at me. 

“Apologies, I didn’t consider that.” He gestured for the piece I was holding and I handed it over to him. “You have to crack this open” A simple twist of his hands and the shell popped loudly. “And then you can pull out the meat.” Picking up a tiny fork, he pulled the entirety of the meat out in a clean piece. I gave him a small clap. He laughed and handed me another piece. 

“You try.” I earned my own clap from him as I copied his motions. It took me a few tries to scoop everything out but I got there in the end. 

“I’lll just have to practice more.” I winked at him and he gave me a soft smile. 

“If it gives you an excuse to come back here, be my guest.” I let the comment float between us. We ate until he had to wave off the shop owners. A small argument between the three of them as they tried to insist he didn’t need to pay. Tarquin dropped a bag of gold on the table when their backs were turned and all but pushed me out of the restaurant before they could notice. The action was so unlike any other high lord I had seen that I couldn’t help the giggle that left me. 

He had grabbed my hand in his sometime during our walk back through the city. Not paying attention to the way I led him to the stretch of beach on the other side of the palace, on the opposite side of where Feyre and Amren were currently trying to grab the book from. The only sound between us was the crashing waves. 

“Sunlight looks good on you.” Tarquin winked at me as we walked down the beach. Breaking the comfortable silence.  The red that tinted my cheeks had nothing to do with the fleeting sunlight. 

“I’m afraid I might become the same color of that crab if I stayed too long,” I joked back.

“You’d adjust… If you ever wanted to, that is.” His tone was light but I could sense the truth behind those words. 

“You’d do well to remember not to be fooled by a pretty face.” I returned with that same tone. He shook his head. 

“I was under the mountain too. Everyone heard the way you would stand up to her. The way you suffered so others wouldn’t.” His words startled me. I never acted that way to get attention. I told him as much. “And that’s why I know you’re more than a pretty face. You did all of it without thinking. Regardless of what you might show others, I know you and your brother are good people. The people that refuse to see that are fools” 

I didn’t respond. Unable to find the right words. I kept walking, slower than before. The sound of waves crashed over my ears. The white noise comforting. Tarquin was not a bad looking male by a long shot. Even under the mountain he was gorgeous. But even thinking of it, however fleetingly, felt wrong. Some deep part in my chest hurt as I thought of how easy it would be to fall in love with him. My hand drifted subconsciously to rub that sharp sting away. 

“You’re kind too. I see it in the way you interact with your people. Very few high lords care about lesser fae, let alone enough to remember their names.” It was his turn to blush, the skin on his cheeks darkening ever so slightly. 

“I want to be better than those before me. I see no reason to make my people suffer because they weren't lucky enough to be high born.”

“I wouldn’t call it lucky.” I muttered mostly to myself. 

“Neither would I. But to them, to the people that only get to watch…”

“It all does seem rather glamorous. Just another mask to put on.” I bit my tongue, cursing myself for saying too much. To my surprise, Tarquin only nodded along. 

“Better to let them think it’s all parties and banquets. It means we’re doing our jobs well enough.” Once again, silence blanketed itself over us. Both of us were aware that our conversation had drifted to something too real. As I looked out at the ocean and saw the tide starting to swell again, I felt disgust ebb through me. I hoped Feyre had made it out by now. That she had gotten the book. We would be leaving tomorrow regardless. Tarquin must have noticed the look on my face, the pensive far-off look. 

“Are you sad to be leaving?” Luckily he had misread my emotions. I nodded, not entirely lying to him.

“Your home is beautiful and it’s nice to be given a break from Hewn city. Sometimes when I wake it, it’s hard not to think I’m still…with her.” He grabbed my hand in his as I spoke. As I looked into his sea green eyes, I had never felt more disgusted with myself. He was kind and trusting and so naive. It felt too easy. Any other high lord, one that had been around longer, would have never let my brother or Feyre out of their sight. Pretty face or not. But the High Lord in front of me didn’t hold an ounce of suspicion for my court. Had told Feyre that much during their trip earlier in the week. It made my stomach twist. 

“She left our mark on all of us, it’s our job to make sure someone like her can never have that chance again.” My throat felt tight and I couldn't speak. He was a good male without a doubt. I only hoped he would forgive us for what we had to do, and would be willing to hear us out after all is said and done.  

AS if the mother herself sensed my words, an alarm rang from within the castle. Tarquin jumped, pulling his hand from mine as a  figure appeared next to us. I hoped the sigh of relief wasn’t too loud as I saw Rhys. It’s done. We need to go now. Tarquin’s head was whipping back and forth between his palace and my brother. I knew I would never be able to forget the look of pure disbelief in his eyes as the pieces clicked into place. 

“I’m so sorry.” I took a step towards him as Rhys wrapped an arm around my waist and the moonlit water of the summer court disappeared around me. 

My knees gave out as soon as I felt the ground return underneath me. Azriel was at my side instantly, hands quick to wipe the silent tears off of my face. I pushed myself away from him. So disgusted with myself I could hardly breathe. My brother paid no attention to me, instead turning his focus to Feyre. I let out a mix between a sob and a laugh as I saw her pull out the book. Azriel just pulled me back against his chest. And my treacherous body relaxed in his hold. That familiar smell of nighttime and pine and something so Azriel that I couldn’t help but calm down. I clung to him tighter as Feyre struggled to open the book. Scared that this had all been for nothing. Then the sick voice echoed through the room. A language I couldn’t quite make out but chilled me to my very core. Like the book had been made of nightmares themselves. Even Azriel tensed beside me, wings flaring before I felt them wrap around me. The voice burrowed into my brain sending a fresh wave of tears down my face. Then, just as sudden as it had started it stopped. Feyre held the now opened box in her lap, refusing to look into it. 

Amren finally looked and pulled away, swearing. She looked…scared. It was a look so out of place on her face that I almost couldn’t clock it. But as she looked back at the book I recognized the pure terror flickering behind those quick silver eyes and I wondered out loud what exactly we had gotten ourselves into. 

I didn’t stay to discuss the events at the summer court with the rest of my family. As it was, Azriel had to all but carry me to my room. Maybe I was being dramatic but the last few days mixed with that look from Tarquin had worn heavily on me. Waves of guilt kept roaring through me. Enough so that I simply let Azriel place me onto my bed, feeling too disgusted with myself to be in his presence any longer. He only pressed a light kiss to my forehead before he pulled the curtains shut and left my room. 

Azriel didn’t return until later the next day. When I finally was able to look him in the eyes I saw nothing but concern in those hazel eyes. Concern I didn’t deserve or want. 

“Talk to me.” He pleaded. I shook my head, a small sniffle the only sound I made. Willing the tears away. I didn’t even deserve to be crying for myself. He sighed heavily and pulled me into his lap. I was so upset that I didn’t even consider the intimate hold. I just curled up tighter into myself and let him rock me back and forth. 

“I’m a horrible person.” I sobbed into his chest, unable to hold back the tears. 

“Rhys told me everything. You’re not. They don’t know it yet but this could save us all.” I didn’t let his words comfort me. 

“He’s so kind. It sickens me to think that I might be the reason he stops being kind.” My voice broke. The admission was unbearable. 

“He’ll deal with it.” I sniffled one more time before I started to calm down. 

Tarquin did in fact deal with it. In the form of four blood red rubies delivered to Hewn City that morning. I swore when Rhys placed it on my bed. “Azriel’s already sweeping the border, so if you decided to have a melt down on me again, you’ll be waiting for a while for someone to comfort you.” Half a tease and half a plea for me to keep it together. I tossed the ruby to the floor, letting it roll under my bed. 

“You really know how to comfort a female, Rhys. It’s a miracle we aren’t having to peel Feyre off of you, truly.” I spit at him. 

“Be angry at me all you want, but get your shit together. You’ve, we’ve, done far worse things.”

“To people that deserved it.” I whispered back. And that was the root of it all. The way we had done unspeakable things to people in the past had never bothered me, because they would have done the same if they got the chance. But sweet, naive Tarquin…

“He’ll understand in time.” Was all he offered, and I saw red tinge the edge of my vision. 

“But at what cost? He’s a good ally to have if we come down to war and we very well might have pushed him into Hyberns hands.”

“If it takes a simple theft for him to go to Hybern then he was never truly an ally.” I wanted to slap the cock-sure look off of my brother's face. 

“Send in Azriel when he gets back.” Dismissal clear in my tone. Rhys looked at me, but I turned away from him. He said my name softly. 

“Get.Out.” I gritted out, picking up a pillow to throw at him but when I turned around he was already gone. 

Azriel did come to my room later in the day, but only long enough to bring me food and say goodbye. He was doing more patrols, checking  his network of spies for any word that Summer might be preparing to send soldiers to our doors. He left before I could say anything to him, only leaving a single shadow behind. It stayed near my bed until I ate the food Azriel had brought for me. Then, and only then, did the shadow retreat to the corner of my room, making me feel a little less alone as I drifted off to sleep. 

It took days for me to finally come out of my room. Nothing compared to the weeks of waiting for the queens to reply to our request. Rhys didn’t have to inform me I would not be coming to the meeting and I didn't have it in me to argue with his decision. He would keep an open line to me from the human lands and I would be able to add my two cents if it was needed. But after my reaction to Tarquin, wwe couldn’t risk another break down on my end. As much as everyone understood where I was coming from, they knew the role I played weighed heavily on me and if I was to attend the meeting I would need to play my part perfectly. A part I didn’t want to play at the moment. That would leave me with Amren, the ancient fae had not let the book out of her sight since it had been given to her. Rhys and I were the only others who had an inkling of how to translate the equally as ancient language, but it took me far more concentration than it took her. 

She didn’t seem to care because no sooner had my family left before she was hauling the book onto the table in my office. The map had been moved to a larger table so she sprawled out sheets of paper with random sentences scribbled onto them, like she was translating faster than she could write them down. I stared at the pages until my eyes began to blur over. Amren shot me a dirty look when I pushed away from the table rubbing my eyes. 

“Weak.” She muttered to herself and I didn’t dignify her taunt with a reply. I had nothing to prove to her, and she very well might be right. I didn’t have the same pull to war like she did, planning it was hard enough. Despite how naturally it came to me, I despised the scheming and backstabbing that usually accompanied it. I didn’t spare her a glance as I walked out of the room, leaving her to her own devices to try to make sense of the pages of the book. 

It was around dinner time when everyone appeared in the front room of the house. I could feel the tension radiating off of Rhys and I wondered why he hadn’t tried to contact me. Until I followed him into his office and he spun around, looking like he was ready to attack me. 

“They want proof that we’re not the court the rumors suggest. They want to see behind the mask.” He spit out, hands lacing into his hair looking like he might pull it from his roots. 

“What are you going to do?” I asked him softly. Taking very slow steps towards him. He growled before he pushed the contents of his desk to the ground. He stood, chest heaving rapidly as he just stared at the floor. 

“I’m going  to show it to them. For the first time since its creation, I’m going to show someone Velaris.” He sunk into his chair, like his legs would no longer support him. I sensed Cassian and Azriel behind me then. I shot them a look that told them to get out and they left as quickly as they had entered. I walked over to my brother and wrapped my arms around him. The sob he let out shook me to my very core and I could only hold him tighter. NO words of encouragement found their way from my throat. 

“I’m sorry for judging you so much over the last weeks.” He said once the sobs had stopped echoing around the room. 

“You were only trying to-”

“I was only being selfish. You made a hard choice and look at me the moment I’m presented with one.” 

“You’re allowed to feel things, Rhys.” A conversation we had had far too many times. He shook his head against my shoulder.

“Not if this is what it does to me. Not if it puts my family in danger.” He sounded so broken and exhausted. 

“You don’t have to do this alone.” My words only made him start sobbing again. And I just held him, not trusting myself to speak as he cried himself out. 

We didn’t speak of the events in his office, that singular moment of weakness from my brother and the others knew better than to ask. The withering glare I had shot Amren when she even attempted to pry served as warning to leave it be. They let it be as the focus quickly turned to the trip to Hewn city. The Veritas orb would be the only way the queens would ever truly believe us. 

So we all prepared. Dressing in finery like it was no different than our fighting leathers. Because in that wretched court they were synonymous. Lipstick akin to war paint and a lethal smile more than just an expression.

I dug in the back of my closet for the ballgowns I reserved only for these occasions. The one I chose for tonight was made of a fabric so black it looked purple. Cut outs at my waist and a neckline that nearly dipped to my navel. Twin slits up the legs that closed right under my hip bone. I left my hair down as I usually did, pinning it to one side of my head. Slipping in my crown I didn’t give myself another glance in the mirror. 

The dress left no room for weapons anywhere on my body but Azriel would be by my side as we searched for the orb. And hopefully he wouldn’t have to even think of using the polished blade that sat on his hip. 

Mor and I arrived first. Winnowing ahead of the others to announce our arrival. There weren't many preparations to be made, the court never one to stop partying. Only stopping enough to sleep or the occasional formal dinner. So Mor and I waited. And waited. Kier grew ever impatient at the lack of my brother's appearance. 

“He’s your high lord, he can come and go whenever he pleases.” My voice the perfect picture of an ice cold princess. Stuck up and full of mirth. He rolled his eyes at me.

“Yes of course, I just wish to go back to my own festivities instead of waiting for him to grace us with his presence.” 

“You will wait as long as he sees fit.” I bared my teeth at him and all he did was give me a wicked smile. I fought to keep my face even, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of riling me. 

Mor was shifting from foot to foot. Looking at her, you would think she was bored, but her tight grip on her arms was the only indication about how uncomfortable she was. Standing in the same room as her father. Neither of them so much as looked at the other. 

“Why don’t you go check on the others. Make sure they remembered we were coming.” I said to Mor, giving her an excuse to leave if only for a few minutes. She didn’t say anything, just gave me a tight nod in appreciation. When she arrived, her face was grim before that mask of indifference snapped back into place. I would have to ask her about it later. 

I almost sighed in relief when I saw my brother, Feyre in tow behind him, walk through the heavy obsidian doors. Kier had already gone back to the main room, my threatening promise of collecting him when my brother appeared. 

“Wait for the others.” Rhys said to me as he brushed by me, steps not faltering as he walked into the throne room. So I waited for Cassian and Azriel. They arrived a few minutes after Rhys had left the room. 

“What happened?” I hissed at them, seeing their glowing siphons. 

“Ambush. We’ll tell you more later.” Azriel said in a clipped voice, shadows whipping around his feet. Clearly agitated. I nodded. 

“You better.” I answered before we all fell into our positions. Azriel on my right and Cassian on my left, me a few paces in front of them. The three of us walked into the throne room. If it wasn’t already silent, the sheer presence of the three of us would have quieted it. As it was, eyes tracked our every move, people all but jumping out of the way of the three of us. Gone were the playful smiles and casual words. Here I was more than just darkness, if Rhys night incarnate and I was something different entirely. The absence of anything, a void. Everyone here had witnessed first hand my powers. The smoke that could incapacitate everyone standing before me, when I had my full powers. Then there was Azriel and Cassian, the wicked spymaster and the bloodthirsty general. 

A path was cleared for us up to the dias where Rhys was standing. Azriel and Cassian knelt at the foot of the marble steps. I joined my brother on the opposite side as Feyre. A feline smile gracing my features as I looked at the kneeling figures of the court. 

“How lovely of you to finally join us.” 

“Call it fashionably late.” Rhys chuckled darkly at my response. With that he walked over to his throne. Pulling Feyre onto his lap. I walked a few paces to stand beside him, my usual position as his sister. I was not expected to kneel for him, instead presenting a unified front. The terrifying high lord and his equally powerful sister. 

I tried to ignore the way Rhys ran his hands all over Feyre. She had already been warned of the role she would have to play while visiting this court. A role she accepted. I admired how bravely she was taking it all. He leaned in to whisper something I tried to tune out. The court is still kneeling, bodies shifting with the strain of the position. As if remembering that they were even there. “Go play.” Was the only acknowledgement he gave them. Dismissing them like they weren’t worth his time anymore. The music began after a few moments. People scramble to do something to distract themselves. 

I walked over to the two warriors as Rhys summoned Kier from his spot near the dias. I fought the urge to hiss at him as he walked by me. I let a small flicker of smoke leak from my hands instead, a threat. He snarled at me and I only let out a low laugh. 

Azriel was already waiting for me. Ready to surround us in darkness to retrieve the orb. We hung by the edge of the room for a little longer, slipping out seamlessly. 

I led the way down the twisting hallways to the vaults that lay hidden underneath Kier’s bedchambers. Azriel needed someone from our bloodline to get in that room, the wards being keyed to our family. We didn’t run into any guards on the way, the wards making it unnecessary.

We entered the cavernous room and began searching. Azriel sent his shadows off through the various tunnels to search ahead of us. We searched through room after room. Silently cursing my extended family for the sheer amount of things they held onto. Jewels and ancient tomes. Records of every dealing of the court of nightmares. I rolled my eyes at the absurd opulence of it all. Azriel’s shadows whipped back to him, wrapping around his shoulders. No doubt whispering of the orbs wearabouts. He grabbed my hand in his as the shadows slunk back to their previous location. The orb was sitting high on a shelf. Out or reach if it wasn’t for Azriel’s wings. He quickly scooped it up and placed it in a bag hidden underneath his leathers. 

We started the walk back to the throne room. The sound of footsteps alerting us of someone else's, several someones, presence. Without thinking, I pulled Azriel’s face close to mine. Bringing a hand up to his face. His hand went to wrap around my waist at the quick movement. 

“Play along.” I whispered to him. I gave a quiet sultry laugh and the footsteps stopped mere feet from us. I jumped back like they had surprised me. Peeling myself off of Azriel. I stepped away, forcing an embarrassed look onto my face. 

The two males only stared at Azriel and I. Taking note of the secluded spot, the space I had abruptly put between us. Predatory smiles graced their faces. 

“Don’t let us ruin your fun.” One said.

“Unless you would rather us join.” The other added. From the lilt of their voices, I could tell they were drunk. Too drunk to realize exactly who they were speaking to like that. I only made a disgusted sound, pulling Azriel behind me as the sound of their laughter echoed through the hallway behind us. 

Azriel and I blended seamlessly into the dancing crowd. The music was slightly more refined than earlier. He didn’t say anything to me as I pulled his hand into mine and put his other hand on my waist. He slowly let his shoulders relax, leaning into me and his footing became more sure. 

It didn’t take long for me to forget why we were doing this, that we had nearly been caught despite his shadows. As I danced with him, I forgot anything but us existed.

The music flowed through me making me feel light as he spun me around the dance floor. I didn’t care about the eyes tracking us across the room. I couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of his hands on my exposed waist. He whispered a joke at something his shadows must have picked up and I threw my head back with laughter. Truthfully I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this good. My mind fully focused on Azriel. 

I prayed to the mother he couldn’t feel the goosebumps that had risen along my skin against his touch. 

He dipped me low and I felt my breath stop. His face an inch from mine. It would be so easy to close that distance and feel his lips against mine. Every part of my brain was screaming at me to do it. His shadows raced around us like they could hear my thoughts. My traitorous body locked up when all I wanted to do was pull him to me. He took in the tension in my body and started to pull away. Panicking at the thought of losing his body heat against mine, I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him back down to me, right as he started to stand me up. I bit back a moan as I felt the plush of his lips collide with mine. 

It was clumsy and rushed but I sucked down breaths full of him, hand still locked on his neck. His hands tightened their hold against me and he groaned my name before he pushed me away. 

“I’m sorry. I…” all the joy had leached out of me as I took in his face. He looked disgusted and before I could say anything else he was weaving through the crowd, leaving me alone on the dance floor. 

My mind was reeling. Lips still tingling in the aftermath. I had dreamed of that kiss for centuries but never could have predicted his reaction. The tears were streaking down my face before I quickly wiped them away, pushing my way through moving bodies. I needed to get out of this room, get out of this stupid dress that had suddenly become too tight to breathe. 

Before I could rip it off in the middle of the throne room, Rhys caught my elbow and was pulling me down to a quiet hallway. I haven't even realized he had left his throne. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” I couldn’t answer with anything other than a sob. He took me into his arms and my skin crawled at the contact. I shrugged out of his hold and could only get out one word. “Mor.” I said her name like the lifeline it was. I saw the conflict in Rhys’ eyes. The need to make me feel better and not leave me alone. But as another sob passed my lips he was all but running away to grab the female I had requested. 

I was hiccuping between sobs by the time Mor arrived. Rhys nowhere in sight, probably returning back to that cruel High Lord facade. I don’t think I could have gotten the words out of what had happened if he was still standing beside me. I choked out the words to her. Recounting what happened and Azriel’s less than enthusiastic reaction. Mor was well aware of my feelings and her eyes shone with sympathy. She held me as I cried it out, tears soaking the fabric on her shoulder. Her hold on me helped to ground me and eventually my tears calmed. I gave her the tightest squeeze I could manage and she held me at arms length, examining my face. Her thumbs came up to wipe under my eyes, coming away with streaks of my makeup sticking to them. My own hands brushed along my face and a sigh of relief followed as I noticed my makeup hadn't smudged too much. No one would be able to know the mess a single kiss had just reduced me to. 

Taking Mors outstretched hand, she pulled me back into the main ballroom, music filling my ears again. The tempo had picked up more turning into something I might hear at Rita’s and definitely something you couldn’t waltz to. Couples had retreated to the sides as the dance floor became a breathing pulse instead of the graceful swell of movement it had been earlier. The pairs that had remained grinding against each other. Mor snagged two flukes of champagne as she pulled us deeper into the dance floor. I knocked mine back as quickly as I could and resolved to block out all the thoughts that were racing around in my head. So I danced with Mor until my brow was covered in sweat, my skin glistening at the rising temperature of the entire room. We ignored all the disgruntled looks aimed our way. Not caring if they heard our laughter for once. 

We both laughed as we found our way to the edge of the crowd again, grabbing more champagne. We both hung back catching our breath together and I let out a heavy sigh as I emptied the glass. I spotted the shadows from across the room and all but slammed the glass onto the table behind me. 

“I’m leaving.” Was all I said to Mor as I stalked away. She didn’t try to stop me, only grabbed my arm to winnow me back to Velaris. She didn’t linger. Returning just as swiftly as we had arrived. 

I just made it back to my room before the tears started anew. Ripping the pins out of my hair and peeling the beautiful dress off my shaking frame, I didn’t make it to my bed before I sunk down to my feet. Pulling my knees close to my chest I let the tears come. 

He was allowed to not return my feelings but in those moments on the dance floor that kiss had felt so real. The way I effortlessly fit against him or the laughter that flowed freely from me. It all felt so right and to see that look on his face. It broke some part of me I had been holding onto for so long now. That small dream that he could for some reason ever return my sentiments. That he would ever see me as anything as Rhys’ sister. 

I eventually was able to pull myself into bed and curl myself into a ball. Tears lulling me off to sleep. I must have dreamt that night because I swore I felt those familiar shadows glide over my skin but by the time I opened my eyes they were gone. 

I managed to pull myself out of bed the next morning. Pushing the stinging rejection to some deep part of me. There’s a war at our doorsteps and you’re crying over a kiss. I reminded myself to stop being so pathetic as I walked down the stairs to the kitchen. I was the last to arrive apparently. 

“You disappeared rather quickly last night.” Cassian said to me, tone teasing but laced with questions. 

“We got the orb, and I no longer wanted to be there.” I shrugged. Pointedly ignoring the gaze of the shadowslinger I could feel burning a hole in the side of my head. I didn’t talk to him all morning, suddenly finding someone calling my name when he tried to speak to me. It was childish, sure, but I didn’t have it in me to discuss it without breaking down in front of him. As it was, I could barely make eye contact with him. My lips tingled every time I look at him. A feeling that I imagine must be similar to being struck by lighting erupted over my skin. I couldn’t be in the same room as him. Lucky for me, Rhys had called me into his study to go over the events of last night. What that would mean for our upcoming trip to the queens.

I was so out of it that I didn’t even notice that Rhys had stopped talking. 

“What happened to you last night?” Rhys asked in a soft voice. I shook my head. If I started talking about it I wouldn’t be able to stop. Rhys would know everything.

“Weren’t you just the one telling me you don’t have to do this by yourself. Gods just let me help you.” 

“You can’t fix this, Rhys.”

“Why not?”

“Azriel kissed me.” He tensed at my rushed words. 

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was cold as death. I shook my head.

“Not the way you mean.” He tapped his hand impatiently against his desk, waiting for more of an explanation. So I sighed and told him everything. 

“How long have you been in love with him?” He asked when I finally finished my story. 

“I’m not-” His pointed stare made me wither. “Only a few years after you became high lord.” I admitted. He had the audacity to laugh. 

“Cassian and I called it.” I gaped at him.

“Not out loud or anything but we always assumed.” 

“That’s all you have to say about this?”

“You’re an adult. He’s an adult.” 

“So you have no idea why he reacted that way.” He looked sheepish at my question. Hands going to pick at an invisible piece of lint. “Rhysand.” He flinched as I said his full name. 

“No. I have no idea.” He threw his hands up in the air before he said “Have you tried, I don’t know, talking to him yourself?”

It was my turn to look sheepish. 

“That explains why you’ve been avoiding him all morning then.” A smile playing at the edge of his lips.

“And I’m sure you were whispering all about the mating bond in Feyre’s ear last night?” I returned. 

“Touche.” 

“Who would have guessed, the two scariest fae in all of Pyrthian and we run with our tails between our legs at the thought of a romantic relationship.” 

“Pathetic truly.”

“If only they could see us now.” I joked back. 

I felt better after my talk with Rhys, lighter even. It was nice to have him know even if it meant I would have to endure his teasing at times. Azriel said nothing about my change in mood as I finally acknowledged him, Rhys making a lewd gesture behind the spymaster. I fought to keep my laugh down. Azriel looked behind his shoulder to find a perfectly still Rhys, his head turned back to me and then to Rhys again, like he might catch him if he moved fast enough. 

“We should-” He started before I held up a hand.

“Not necessary. I got the message loud and clear.” He deflated ever so slightly at my words and didn’t say anything else. So I carried on about my day as usual, until it was time to get dressed for tonight.

The gown I wore tonight was vastly different from the one I wore to Hewn city. This was a silver, tiered dress. Ruffles formed to look like butterfly wings and encrusted with gems on the edges. The neckline was far more modest than my other dress, swooping gently right under my collar bone. I couldn’t help but twirl in the mirror. Giggling at the rainbows the clear gems threw across the ceiling. It truly was a gorgeous dress. One I had custom made from one of the shops in Velaris. 

I didn’t wait for any of the others to join me. I had gotten ready at the house of wind so I could join the festivities the moment I was ready. Too excited to waste one minute with Mor fussing about her hair. I stood on the balcony, eyes already searching for those little flickers of starlight. 

“You look beautiful.” A voice behind me said, making me jump. I haven't heard Azriel approaching behind me. He stood beside me by the railing, leaning on his elbows. It was peaceful, standing next to him with the wind brushing against my skin. The events from last night eddying out of my mind with him so close to me. 

“I missed this.” I nearly whispered to him. Looking out at the lights of the city I loved. Hearing the laughs and joyous shouts of everyone above us. It was all too much and not enough, the thought of it bringing happy tears to my eyes. Tears that I felt scared hands wipe away before I could. “I’m sorry. I just… I never thought I would see this again.” His eyes filled with a deep sadness. Before he could open his mouth to speak again, Mor called my name. Rushing over she put a glass of champagne in my hand, pulling me upstairs with the other. Azriel trailed behind us. 

I looked over my shoulder and gave him a soft smile that he returned. Cassian was waiting for all of us, talking to some pretty female that was batting her eyelashes at him. He didn’t give her a second glance when he spotted us approaching, the female calling his name as he retreated from her side. I could have laughed at the look she gave all of us but I didn’t have time to think about it as Cassian swept me into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Look at you all dolled up, princess.” Cassian said as he held me at arms length. 

“Couldn’t have you upstage me” I winked at him which only made him throw his head back with laughter. I joined in and felt a weight uncurl from my shoulders. 

“Come on.” Mor said as the music started to pick up. The telltale sign that the best part was just ahead. My eyes searched the crowd for my brother. I wanted to share this moment with him. I caught the outline of wings on the balcony above us. Tucked away enough that I really had to search for him. I saw the sparkle of Feyre’s dress and a warm smile plastered itself to my face. His arm was wrapped around her waist. I looked away, giving them their privacy. 

No sooner had I looked back to the sky did I see the faint trails of light beginning to fill it. First one, then a few more, then the sky was full of the brightly colored trails. Bits of stardust landed in the river below us, covering the surface with their glittering color. Mor grabbed my hand, pulling me into a uneleagant dance. Cassian and Azriel joined in a few moments later. The four of us not caring about the moves we made, simply soaking up each other's company. Azriel wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his side and I felt my heart skip a beat. Mind instantly going back to our dance at the court of nightmares. He shot me an almost apologetic smile that told me he was thinking the same thing. I shrugged at him. Nothing to apologize for. He kissed me and I kissed him back. Simple as that. It didn’t have to mean anything, nothing more than the heat of the moment decision. As much as it hadn’t been that for me, as much as it stung to know that’s all he saw it as.

 Shaking the thoughts away, I grabbed his arm and swayed gently to the beat. Cassian and Mor devolved into a dance that was more jumping than dancing. They wrapped their arms around each other howling with laughter. 

I felt the glittering substance hit my arm. Looking down to inspect it, I noticed Azriel’s wings sporting their own splatters. It took every ounce of brain power I possessed not to reach up and brush it off of those beautiful wings. Instead I dipped a finger through the dust on my arm and wiped a streak over Azriel’s cheek. He stared at me in disbelief before a booming laugh left him. The sound warmed my heart. He laughed like this so rarely, truly carefree. It seemed so natural to lean in and rest my head against his chest. His arms wrapped around me as we just stood in each other's embrace. I tilted my head up so  I could see his hazel eyes already looking down at me.

“Azriel I…”

He let me go when Mor cried out my name, cutting off my words.

“You’re not nearly drunk enough.” She said pulling my arm to the table holding the full glasses. I turned to look at Azriel but he seemed to have disappeared already. His shadow trailing across my shoulder being the only indicator he had even been there. 

Mor and I stayed on the rooftop until the sun started peaking over the horizon. Coloring the Sidra a beautiful pink and orange. Sighing heavily as the lingering effects of the alcohol had started to wear off finally, leaving nothing but exhaustion in their wake. Mor simply grabbed my arm and winnowed us back to the house. 

Cassian and Azriel were asleep on the couches. A bottle of whiskey sitting empty on the table between them. They wouldn’t wake up until later in the afternoon. I threw blankets over both of them and started heading to my own room. I didn’t stay up long enough to bathe nor did I peel myself out of my dress. Suddenly too exhausted to even keep my eyes open. 

I woke up sometime in the late afternoon. Rhys all but pulled me out of bed.

“We're leaving soon.” That woke me up. With a curse I stumbled over myself to get to the bathing room. I took a hasty bath, washing away the remaining stardust that was stuck to my skin. I braided my hair and dressed in my Illyrian leather. Daggers slid into their place on my thigh. I strapped my sword to my back and was down to meet the others in less than thirty minutes. Rhys gave me an approving nod. 

Going to Windhaven never got any easier. I had no love for my old home. It was only a blessing from the cauldron that I haven't been born with wings. The cruelty I faced growing up was enough. The shudder that racked through me had nothing to do with the cold. 

I ignored the sneers from passing by males. Azriel and Cassian tight by my side serving as a buffer for the nasty comments that were usually thrown my way. Feyre was silent beside me, taking in the sights around her. 

We walked until Lord Devlon walked in front of us. A brutish male that was one of the few people in this world I can say I truly hated. Mor snarled at the mention of the girls they were supposed to be training. 

“And why aren’t the males helping them with the chores?” I dared to ask him. He looked at me like I was no more than a speck of dirt on his leathers. 

Before Devlon could grace me with a response Rhys cut him off. The demanding voice of a high lord telling him to clear out our old house. The tone even Devlon couldn’t argue with. 

Rhys, Feyre and I stood in the clearing. Time and time again she reached her power out, getting stronger each time. I practiced along with her. She stood in awe of the mist that poured out of my hands, getting thicker each time until it hugged the ground like fog. 

“When did you meet Tamlin?” Feyre asked after a string of questions about Illyria. Rhys and I both stiffened. The mist instantly retreated back into my hands. 

“Show me something impressive and I’ll tell you.” She rolled her eyes but did it anyway. Holding out her hand she conjured a butterfly out of the water in the snow. It was very impressive. 

“I’ve known Tamlin since he was young. The more decent children of the high lords at the time. Definitely better than Berons bunch.” He almost shivered and I willed the earth to swallow me whole. “And significantly better than his brothers, who knew from the moment Tamlin was born he would be high lord. He was the lesser of the evils so I decided it would be better if we were friends… I don’t know why but I even taught him some illyrian techniques.” 

“Did anyone know?” He shook his head. I blanched at the thought of how angry our father would have been had he known about Rhys and Tamlin’s friendship. Rhys looked to me, knowing the next part of the story was mine to tell. I just nodded at him, giving him permission to say the words I couldn’t. 

“When my father got wind of our friendship… for lack of a better term. He decided it was time for the two courts to align themselves more. And that’s where this gets even more complicated.” He trailed off, once again looking at me. 

“Why?” Feyre pressed on and I wish she hadn’t , wish she would have let it go at that. 

“Because the only way to join the courts in any way my father deemed worthy was to marry them together. Literally.” Feyre’s eyes went wide and her gaze landed on me. I couldn’t meet her eyes. Shame rising up, tightening my throat. Rhys continued. 

“We all saw the power that Tamlin had, the power that marked him as the next High Lord of spring. And without any sisters for me to get paired off to, that left one option.” He shrugged over at me. 

“What happened? I mean, I’m assuming you never…never went through with it.” I took a deep breath, willing my voice to work. 

“I moved to the spring court, I tried to fight it but my father would absolutely not hear it. Every plea fell on deaf ears. So I went because I had to,” my hands were shaking as I pulled up the memories. “It wasn’t so bad. Tamlin was different back then, sweeter, less guarded. At least when he wasn’t around his father. We became friends over time. But the closer we grew, the more protective he got over me.” She nodded, understanding the feeling. “Eventually it became a little more. He fell faster than I did, I never really saw him as more than a close friend but we were supposed to be married so I played along. Wishing every day that I could return his sentiments. Calanmi came that next year and he sought me out.” She paled at my words, her hand rubbing absentmindedly at her neck. I quickly added. “It wasn’t horrific by any stretch of the imagination. If I had said no, regardless of the magic, he wouldn’t have done it. Would have stopped. But that was when everything shifted for him. I couldn’t go out to the gardens without having his sentinels on my tail. Was damn near confined to only the house. Lucien wasn’t around as much then, still fairly new to the court. And of course, his father was watching our every move. Gauging the relationship as it progressed. Watched as I withered away under Tamlin’s overbearing protection.” I couldn’t stop the words as they flowed out of my mouth. 

“I pushed back as much as I could. I was constantly sneaking out which only made him more overbearing. We fought more than we didn’t. Both of us said and did horrible things to each other. I knew I couldn’t live like that forever. Couldn’t continue to suffer just because my father had some grand plan.” I finally met Feyre’s eyes and I almost flinched at the understanding in them. Of course she would get it. Her own experience was not too different from mine. She nodded at me, a sign to keep going. 

“So I started planning how to get back home. I couldn’t just winnow away in the dead of night. I knew he would come looking for me. I knew he wouldn’t let me go that easily. I had to break whatever love he thought he held for me, I had to make him let me go willingly. It wasn’t peaceful by any means. I went too far one day in an argument and for the first time ever he lost control.” I pulled up the arm to my jacket, letting the glamor fall away on the three angry claw marks that I never let heal. A reminder of just how destructive both of our tempers had gotten. 

“Why do you seem so calm about this, why didn’t you let me know…I would have-” Her skin was rippling with darkness. Fire flickering from her palms. 

“Would have what, Feyre? You were willing to die for him. I couldn’t take that away from you. I wanted to believe he could change, that he would be better to you. But that is simply how he loves.” I took a steading breath. “I said we both did some terrible things to each other and I stand by that. He’s a villain in my story as much as I am in his.” 

“We simply didn’t want to think we were trying to turn you against him” Rhys echoed. 

Rhys reached for her as she was already walking towards him. My ears barely picked up the whispered words. 

“I want to paint you.”

“Nude would be best” I rolled my eyes as Rhys reached to winnow me with them. 

I was able to catch up with Mor and Cassian as they surveyed the newest girls in training. Most of them were too scared to even pick up a sword, their eyes not moving from worriedly staring at Cassian. Signing, I stepped up in front of him. 

“Magic or no magic?” He asked, raising a challenging eyebrow to me. 

“Magic.” That gave him full permission to use his siphons. That was one department where I needed the practice as much as he did. I tried to pull all my focus on that kernel inside me. The smoke curled out from me before it retreated the moment I moved towards Cassian.

“Try harder.” He growled at me. And I did. I’d been able to coat the ground in the black fog. Cassian stepping to avoid it, but it followed him like a serpent. Twisting and curling around him. It was easier this time. More like trying to pull it through murky water as opposed to a brick wall. Something had changed since this afternoon. It was easier to hold onto it, and didn't leave me as breathless as before. It took a few more tries but I was even able to move around, the fog still staying on the ground. When we were done, I noticed Mor was coaching three of the girls who had been brave enough to pick up swords. I smiled at Cassian as we both watched her. It wasn’t much but it was progress. Slow progress but a start. 

All of us sat around the fire that night. Gathering as close as we could, trying to gain any sort of warmth from it. Feyre looked like her hands might just fall off, not built for or used to the frigid temperatures the night brought with it. We sat absently chatting as we all ate. Mor was going to Hewn city in the morning and Azriel had already left to scout out the human lands. I wasn’t happy with the idea of him going alone but he waved off my concern, promising me he would be safe. Mor, true to her word, left before the sun had even risen the next morning. Grumbling my good bye to her through sleep filled eyes. 

Rhys had convinced me to train with him and Feyre again. Impressed by the progress both of us had made so far. Feyre and I traveled further back into the clearing, putting space between her and my brother. I didn’t ever ask him what exactly had happened during starfall but the tension between the two was palpable and I didn’t blame her for needing space. As much as I hated being away from Azriel, the distance was nice. I felt like I was suddenly unable to think clearly around the shadowslinger. Thoughts more often than not drifting towards the memory of his lips on mine, his hands around my waist. 

A voice I recognized called out Feyre’s name. And to my horror it was not my brother but Lucien standing in the middle of the clearing. 

I stood by, ready to use my powers at the first sign from Feyre. Lucien and the wraiths at his side had yet to notice me. 

I hung onto every word of their exchange. Someone tipped us off that you had been here. Rage boiled my blood. Devlon no doubt being that someone. I took a step forward as Feyre stepped back. 

“Tamlin hasn’t been himself. We’ll take you back-

“Touch her and I kill you.” There was no warmth in my voice for my old friend. Lucien spun around so he was facing me. Giving Feyre time to put space between the two of them. He stared at me, mouth gaping. Smoke was already swirling around my feet. It would take nothing for me to reach out and get Feyre out of here. But this was her battle to fight. I wouldn’t make that choice for her. I felt my self control start to slip as he opened his mouth again.

“Of course. What poison have you been spewing into her ears?” He spit at me. 

“Don’t make this about me.” I spit back so harsh, he flinched. A twig snapping had Lucien whipping back to face Feyre. 

“Let’s go home.” He said as he reached out a hand. I reached for my dagger, wondering if I would be fast enough to sever it from his body if he reached any closer for her. 

“That stopped being my home the moment you let him lock me away inside.” She spoke, quiet as death. He at least had the decency to look ashamed. 

“He made a mistake. He’s sorry, we’re both sorry.” I couldn’t help the scoff that left my mouth. He only ripped his gaze on her away for a second. 

“All this time and you can’t come up with better excuses, Lucien?” I goaded him, “Will he change? Will he be better if she just gives him time?” I felt the fog thin out by my feet. I didn’t pay it any mind. 

I lunged forward the same time Lucien did. A shout leaving my mouth. But his hands found nothing. Feyre was now standing behind him with Rhys at her side. I didn’t let myself relax. 

“Didn’t your mother tell you what the word no means?” Lucien did nothing by spit at my brother's feet. But it was that one word from his mouth.Whoring prick. That had me lunging for him. A firm arm across my chest from Rhys was the only thing holding me back. 

“You made your point Feyre-now come home.” He reached his hand out again but feyre only stepped back. 

“You gave up on me.” The way she spoke those words hit me like a punch in the gut. Lucien’s eyes flickered over to me. No doubt remembering me saying similar things. I was suddenly very far away until I saw those beautiful IIlryian wings peek over her shoulder. Lucien to his credit did not fall as he stumbled back. 

“What did they do to you?” Horror laced his words. Good. 

“Tell Tamlin I won’t be coming back. That if he sends anyone for me, I’ll show him exactly what we do to those who wander into our court.” I felt no sympathy at the hurt that washed over Lucien's face. 

“You’re dead. You and everyone in your court.” He was gone before I had the chance to lunge at him. 

“Scheming prick. Stupid, overconfident bastard.” I kept shouting, kicking the snow around me. I had half a mind to go track him down at the spring court and finish the job I should have done a long time ago. It wasn’t truly Lucien I was mad at, no he was simply the messenger. Once again trying to clean up Tamlins messes. It was either that or have no court to call home. Anger flared through me at the thought. How Tamlin took advantage of Lucien’s situation and turned him into nothing more than a mindless crony. I didn’t pay attention to the words Rhys and Feyre spoke around me. Didn’t even notice Cassian flying in beside me until he gave my arm a small shake. I ripped it out of his hold without even thinking, letting loose a snarl. He spoke my name, reminding me of where exactly I was.

“You’re all safe. Come back with me.” He said, moving closer to me again. I felt the tears already sliding down my face as he scooped me into his arms. 

I hardly moved for the rest of the night. The shivers that ran through me had nothing to do with the cold. Azriel was still hunting for lingering signs of Lucien or the spring court so that left Cassian to deal with me. Something he was not known to be the best at, despite his best efforts. 

I sat with him until Mor came to collect us both, whatever business she had in Hewn city officially ended. 

She sat with me all night. Both of us curled up against each other as we slept. 

Rhys and Feyre were supposed to be back later in the day so we all waited around for them. Hour after hour past and not a word from them. Azriel had left once again when we told him as much. He returned an hour later. 

“Nothing?” I asked him. He slammed his sword down on the table. 

“Not a damn thing.” He huffed, storming to one of the rooms in the back of the house. 

It was almost nightfall and I had been pacing back and forth across the living room of the small house when I heard a noise from outside. All of us were on our feet, rushing outside before we could think better of it. 

The sigh of relief that left me quickly turned into a gasp as I saw Rhys fall to his knees. Cassian and Azriel were on their side of him instantly. Feyre was still standing, in perfect shape actually. Good enough that she was able to march right past me and into the house. The two Illyrian warriors all but dragged Rhys into the house before leaving to go collect Majda. Feyre or Mor were nowhere to be seen.

Rhys’ eyes opened slightly and he only called out Feyre’s name. I shushed him, dabbing a wet washcloth over his head, he was burning hot. Majda came and confirmed what I already knew. Poison. Faebane. 

“He’s healing so he’ll need to just sleep it off,” she rose from beside his bed. “His mate's blood very well might have saved his life. He’ll recover in a day or two.” Her words caught me off guard. His mate. If Feyre knew her blood could heal him…Shit. Casssian and Azriel must have made the connection at the same time I did because when we heard Mor enter the house again, we all ran to find her in the living room. 

We pulled out a bottle of good wine as she confirmed what we had already thought. Feyre knew, no she doesn’t seem happy. No I won’t tell you idiots where she is. Of course, we could find her on our own if need be but it was the idea behind it. Mor only shared the more intimate details with me. Shooing the males out of the room. “Go take care of Rhys if you care that much. He’ll tell you himself.” They both stomped off in a way that reminded me of toddlers, walking into Rhys room. Mor rushed the words out. Feyre was fine overall, just pissed at him at all of us for keeping something this big a secret. I didn’t blame her one bit but it still stung a little that she was mad at all of us. Did she know how much we had been begging Rhys to tell her? 

Rhys woke up in the middle of the next day. He winced as I slammed the door

“How did she find out?” 

“Hello to you too. No, how nice to see you Rhysand, I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“How did she find out?” I asked again. He sat up a little more, wincing slightly

“She trapped the Suriel.” I balked at him. “It seems it’s not the first time she's done it either.” 

Feyre had trapped the Suriel… that could mean. I didn’t want to get my hopes up but I was already on my feet. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Stay out of it, Rhys.” I closed the door a little softer. It took me practically getting on my knees, begging, to convince Mor to take me to the house she tucked Feyre away in. She only agreed when I promised I wouldn’t mention my brother. She needed to bring Feyre more food anyways.

I stood outside the door, feeling very stupid as I held a basket full of food for her.“If you’re asking me to forgive him, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Feyre had only opened the door an inch

“I need you to tell me how to catch the Suriel.” She opened the door wider

“Why do you want to know?” She motioned me into the house and I looked around wildly. The smell of fresh paint lingered in the air and covered her skin. 

“I have something I need to ask. Please. I know you don’t owe me anything, especially right now. But please.” 

I stood in the middle of a clearing, new cloak in hand. My hands had frozen on the walk over but I had to talk to the Suriel. I knew it was around here, if it had talked to Feyre only the night before. The snare I made was sloppy at best. But I prayed to the mother it would work. 

The scream that echoed through the clearing had me running towards the sound, crossing my fingers. 

It had indeed worked. The Suriel had my velvet cloak in its hands.It thrashed violently as I approached, suddenly;y going still as it sensed my presence. 

“ Let me down before I gut you.” 

“I have a question first.” Hollow eyes looked at me, pinning me in place. 

“You seek answers about your curse?” 

“How do I get rid of it?” 

“You already know how. The very thing that the wicked queen knew you would never do.”

“Stop the games. Tell me.” I was shouting, hands shaking. 

“Forgiveness. Forgive the one you hate the most.”

I flinched like the Suriel had burned me. The words swam around my head. I vaguely realized I was shaking my head. 

“That can’t be it.” I pleaded. 

“I am many things, but a liar is not one of them.” I felt the angry tears starting to trail down my face. “Now let me go. I only have so much patience for meddling fae today.” I pulled out one of my jeweled daggers, slicing the rope that held the Suriel’s ankle. As the figure retreated, I sank down to my knees. Forgive the one you hate the most. 

It was a rare occurance to be summoned to her private chambers. Attors on either side of me, ready to strike at the first sign of push back. They unceremoniously threw me into the center of the room, pushing me to my knees in front of the red headed female. 

“Leave us.” She said in a voice that turned my stomach. I dared to raise my eyes off the ground. Rhys was perched in a soft looking chaise, he didn’t hold my eyes for long. The Attors shuffled out of the room but I knew they lingered in the hallway. 

“I hear you’ve been causing trouble again, princess.” It was all I could do not to flinch at the way she said that name. The name my family had called me for centuries. A defiled, twisted rendition of the sign of my family's love. “Well, I have a surprise for you.” Her voice dripped with a wicked delight. From somewhere in the room a noise drew my attention. I completely froze as I saw Tamlin being led out in chains. Even Rhys momentarily broke his mask to glare at him. Amarantha smiled at me as she walked over to him. She squeezed his cheeks in an overly familiar way. “Doesn’t he look good like this?” She laughs at my lack of response, pushing him away from her. He didn’t try to hide his stumble. “No groveling at his feet then? No apologies for the mess you got him into?” 

“That’s no-” An invisible hand around my throat cut off the words. Rhys’ eyes flickered to mine, an apology lingering in his violet stare. 

“Did I say you could speak?” She released her magic and I nearly fell to the ground, sucking in painful gulps of air. She stalked towards me, stopping inches from me. Her hand went out to cup under my chin, forcing me to look her in the eye. “Maybe if you hadn't broken his heart, he would have accepted my offer the first time.” I bared my teeth at her and she gave a sharp cold laugh. 

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Are you sure there’s no kind words for our little High Lord over here?”  I just held her gaze. Not wavering as I saw the fury in my lack of response, my lack of fighting. “Pity. Where’s that sharp tongue of yours now?” She pushed me, I landed on my back. I didn’t even cry out, too familiar with this treatment from her. 

“You’ve made your point.” Rhys said in a bored voice from his seated position. She only gave him a low growl. 

“You’re no fun.” She cooed at Rhys. The same voice you would use on a babe. Despite my best efforts, trails of black smoke so thick it looked like ink left my fingers. Another invisible force collided with my body and my power retreated back to me, my chest feeling like someone had poured ice water into my veins. Before I could even attempt to try again, she lifted me onto my feet by my hair. “As much as I’d love to see you try, I’m bored with you already.” She yanked my head back before releasing her hold on me. “Tamlin, any words of goodbye?” Forest green eyes met mine. After all that I endured in this hell, I had never felt as small as I did now. That simple glare, so full of hatred, reducing me to that same afraid girl I had once been. Tamlin didn’t speak. Neither did I. 

“Shame. You’ll wish you would have said something soon enough.” I didn’t have time to think over her words as the cold hands of the Attor wrapped around my arm, hauling me back to my room. Didn’t make the connection between that slam in my chest with the trickle of power that I was left with. 

It was right there. Amarantha was never one to just give you information. Just like that riddle that had saved us all. Everything had been a game to her, why would this have been any different? But there had to be another way. Thinking back to my encounter with Lucien recently, there was no way in hell I was forgiving any of them any time soon. I would talk to Helion. Go by myself if need be. Because it was going to be a cold day in Hel before I ever forgive Tamlin. 

I called out for Rhys. For anyone to come and get me. It was at least a day's journey on foot back to the boundary line outside of Windhaven. I sat by and no one came after me. I reached deep within myself and imagined the space I wanted to go to. I didn’t even make it half way before I popped back into the cold clearing, panting. I tried again and it was like I was reaching through brick again. My powers boarded up behind walls I could not break through. I kicked at the snow, cursing. I tried one last time, crying out when nothing happened. So I began to walk back, hoping when I got close enough Rhys would hear me screaming for him in my head. It wasn’t Rhys that came to get me. Instead, Mor appeared beside me. 

“Where have you been?” She said when she spied me, half frozen from the wind. 

“Later.” Was all I could get out, I was bone tired. 

“You all really need to get your shit together.” She grumbled under her breath as she winnowed us back to the house. Don’t I know it.

Rhys had gone to apologize to Feyre, and had not been back since. We could only hope that meant all was well, or that she had at least hid the body herself. 

Rhys and Feyre returned the next day. They didn’t even attempt to hide the smell of the bond, and as happy as I was for my brother I gave him a wide berth. Cassian on the other hand only saw the tension in Rhys shoulders, the way his eyes were drifting between Feyre and every other movement around him. 

“Anytime you want a real ride, Feyre, let me know.” As if his words weren’t enough, the wink he sent Feyre had Rhys lunging for him. I had to quickly side step out of the way to avoid being hit by flailing wings. Ushering Feyre into the house I muttered loud enough for her to hear, “Big Illyrian babies.” 

They fought for an hour and despite being covered in blood, Feyre sent Rhys a look that the rest of us could not run away from fast enough. Mor winnowed the two of us to the house of wind. Azriel was already there, wings tucked in tight as he looked out the large window overlooking Velaris. I snuck up behind him, a rare achievement to make the spymaster jump when I placed a hand on his shoulder. The others slowly trickled into the room as we all waited for Feyre and Rhys to join us. 

The sun was just starting to touch the water when we heard them enter. One by one we stood in front of Feyre before giving a low bow, hands on our hearts in an ancient gesture of respect. One she had more than earned. I couldn’t help but smile at my brother's joy, it radiated off of him in waves so strong I swore I could reach out and grab them. The joy of finally having Feyre by his side. Rhys’ eyes followed my hand as I rubbed a small circle into my chest, separate from the sign we had given Feyre. The tension eased slightly.  Rhys quickly looked away before I could ask him why he was staring so intently on me. 

The human world was just as I remembered it. Despite seeing it less than a month ago, I still gawked as we approached Feyre’s family home. I knew she never lived in this particular estate but the idea that Tamlin made this possible for them thawed my heart just a fraction. Forgive the one you hate the most. I haven't gotten the chance to talk to my brother, or anyone, about what Suriel had told me. Everyone too caught up in Rhys and the Queens we were sitting in front of. 

I sat in stunned silence at the vipers in crowns in front of us. The queens I had met before would laugh if they heard these were their predecessors. 

Mor opened the box in front of her and I had to sit on my hands to stop the urge to knock it out of her hands and destroy the orb. Azriel’s hand on my shoulder did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside of me. We all took a collective breath as the bright lights of Velaris filled the orb.

“This is Velaris,” My brother started and I felt his heart shatter in front of me. “For five thousand years, we have kept it a secret from outsiders. This is what I have fought so hard to protect. The cruelty you believe I possess to protect this city, my people. Dreamers and creators and good people with families. People that have never known strife or violence. All of what I have gone through over the centuries was to protect them.” I couldn’t stop the sniffle that left me and I desperately tried to blink back the tears rimming in my eyes. 

“We will..consider this information.” Mor snarled beside me. I felt like the eldest queen had punched me in the stomach. I went to stand but Nesta beat me to it. 

“Give.Them.The.Book” I didn’t discount the single tear streaking down her own face. 

“No.” A word so final I couldn’t breathe. 

“We appreciate the gesture of your trust.” But I could not look away from the way Cassian stood next to Nesta. The calm he emitted from standing so close to her. When I looked back the queens were gone. 

I looked to my brother, head reeling at the events that had just happened. We fulfilled our end of the bargain. Screaming, manipulative-

In Rhys’ hand sat a box, a box not unlike the one Feyre had struggled to open when we returned from the summer court. A surprised noise left my mouth and Azriel tightened his hand on my shoulder, rubbing small comforting circles. 

Nesta and Elain chose to stay in the mortal lands. The sisters are staying in their family home. The last thing I heard before we left was Nesta whispering to Feyre. That’s why you painted stars on your drawer. 

There was no celebration when we arrived back in Velaris. No sense of triumph as we handed the book to Amren. We had gotten what we needed but at what cost. To Rhys, to my family, it had cost everything. All that he suffered during the war, from my father, from the Illyrian soldiers that looked down on him so much. All that he suffered under the mountain, from Amarantha, all the horrible things we had done together. All of it was sacrificed to the wicked queens who still did not know we possessed the book. Queens who would gladly sit back and watch Prythian and their world be destroyed. 

Rhys and Mor went to the Court of Nightmares the next morning, to return what we had stolen before Kier noticed. Azriel and Cassian pulled me into my study to go over the map, planning for the inevitable war. We added more pins to the maps, adjusting the Illryians to their new location scattered across the mountain ranges. Added the black pins for the warriors we prayed Kier would grant us. I don’t know how long we stayed in that room, Cassian and Azriel periodically doing a lap of the house and its perimeter to watch for anyone who would want to hurt Feyre. Overgrown guard dogs. But I found that even I was keeping a more watchful ear out for any sign of trouble, a light cover of fog I kept over my hands like gloves, ready to attack at a moment's notice. 

The next day, Azriel pulled me from the map to accompany him on patrol. Leaving Cassian the great pleasure of entertaining Feyre until Rhys’ return later today. The city held an eerie silence today despite the citizens going about their usual routines. It wasn’t much later than that thought crossed my mind that I felt the ground beneath my feet quake. My head whipped to Azriel who had gone as still as a statue, his shadows scattering out from him searching for the source of the sound. 

“Azriel?” I questioned, looking around the area for any threat. And then I followed his eye line. Eyes turned to the once clear midafternoon sky, now tinged in clouds of darkness. They were moving far too fast to be only storm clouds. 

“Get Amren and Cassian, now” I choked out. Azriel’s arms were around me instantly, taking off into the sky. Feyre and Cassian had gone to the amphitheater on the other side of the city, hopefully they weren’t far from there. A red light filled the sky, a homing beacon to where we would find Cassian. Quake after quake filled the ground as those creatures tore through the shield around the city. They reverberated through the air, Azriel only held onto me tighter.  

Cassian was shooting through the sky and I felt the ground beneath my feet. Azriel stayed long enough to hear me cry out to him, “Be safe.” He was gone. And I was running towards the direction I had seen Cassian fly in from. Screaming filled the air and I reached for the sword on my back, daggers left forgotten on my hip. I gave tentative push of my power and could have cried in relief at the cloud that pushed out from me, however thin it was. I pulled my earlier thought from my mind, the twinge of something I felt as I had looked at Feyre’s home in the human lands, the physical proof of Tamlin taking care of them, I focused all my spare energy onto that single kindness and I watched the fog grow thicker, curling around me in a way that was so familiar.

 I clutched at that feeling as I heard the screams around me grow louder. I could not run fast enough to stop the swarm of Attor like creatures that flooded the streets. I thought of Elain’s sweet face and Nestas beautiful dresses and willed my power to wrap around the creatures in front of me. If they could see me, they didn’t let it show. The only sign I had that my power had worked against them was the choked screams they let out. My sword tinged with their blood as I ran it clean through them. I pulled that black smoke into me, panting as I forced my legs to run ever faster. Reaching out for something deeper, I visualized the next swarm of them I could see and I felt the familiar pressure as I appeared in the middle of them. Shooting my power out with a force I didn’t recognize, I made quick work of them. They didn’t even get the chance to scream this time. I couldn’t focus on the blood that now stained my blade and face. Could only think of the distance between me and the bright pops of red and blue in the sky, the water I could hear roaring just ahead of me. If I had looked up I would have seen the pack of water wolves Feyre was using to chase them from the city streets and back into the air. 

The tremble that took my feet out from under me was one that did not scare me. Rhys had arrived and his rage took out half of their forces. His power filled the air with a metallic scent and I did my best not to think about what the dusting of red was as it covered my skin. A second roar, far stronger than the first one spurred me on. I did not fear the darkness that slipped over my eyes, those stars and nothing short of pure night. When I could finally make out shapes again, I saw the outline of wings, not those gnarled and bony wings of the creatures attacking us, but Illyiran wings, claws fully extended. I didn’t think as I barreled towards the shape. Didn’t think as I launched myself into Azriel’s chest. His arms came to wrap around my waist, pulling me so tight to him I struggled to breath but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I gulped down whatever breath I could, filling my lungs with the scent of him. Heart hammering in time with his own wild heartbeat. The screaming had stopped, leaving only a horrifying silence in their wake. I did not let go of Azriel as he winnowed us back to the townhouse. 

All of us were sitting in the living room of the house in various states of disarray. Mor’s hair was caked with dirt and flecks of blood, her eyes starting to flutter shut. Feyre was curled up next to her also looking like she was ready to fall asleep any moment. 

I could see the gears in Cassian's head spinning. The general already thinking about what this means for the greater battles ahead. Obviously, the queens had sold us out to Hybern. Our home had been used as a bargaining chip and it had bit us in the ass. 

My eyes flickered over to Rhys and I could tell his thoughts were in a similar spot. It wasn’t your fault. I said into his head. He flinched, a disgusted look replacing the grief for a brief second. I told them where the city was, I gave them the information freely and for the first time in centuries an outsider knows about the city and then we get attacked. How is that not my fault sister? It was my turn to flinch. With Rhys in his current mood, there was no point in trying to argue back. So I finally closed my eyes and tuned out the conversation between Cassian and Rhys. I didn’t have the energy to talk about Hybern right now. The throbbing headache behind my temples let me know just how much magic I had used today and let me know how much I needed to start hunting for ways to break this curse.

At some point Azriel had stretched out next to me on the couch, my back to his side. Half asleep, I turned to face him and just grabbed his arm. Curling around him as best as I could in our current position. Someone in the room chuckled as I settled down once again. I don’t know how much time passed as they all just sat and talked. I drifted in and out of sleep but couldn’t piece anything coherent together. At some point I felt Cassian standing over me. 

“Come on let’s get you to bed.” His voice held more humor than I would expect from him after today. My eyes didn’t even open before I said. 

“Move me from here and you will lose that hand.” I snuggled closer into Azriel to prove my point. The male by my side laughed a stiff laugh but wrapped his arm around me tighter. I was too tired to care about the content purr that left my chest at the motion. Too tired to care that he scooped me up in his arms and carried me all the way to my room. And definitely too tired to hear the three words he whispered to me as he closed my door.

Taglist: @nickishadow139 @tothestarsandwhateverend @quinzzelx @durgenyx @i-am-infinite @mariahoedt @acourtofbatboydreams @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nocasdatsgay

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #acowar #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar series #azriel spymaster #az x reader #rhys!sister #rhysand #rhys acotar #feyre acotar #inner circle #night court

[14dyh]

Nerdy Love | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x reader Summary: Hange with a nerdy lover headcanons! (Science Edition: Chemistry, Botany, Physics, and Astronomy) A/N: the physics part was pretty self-indulgent, i just want to share the world of science with Hange :")

Hange with a nerdy lover...

Chemistry

if you're a chemistry nerd,

Hange would be overjoyed at having someone who shares their favorite subject with them

when you first met, they sat beside you in the lab and went on talking about chemistry and such

enthused by your knowledge, Hange will begin to search even deeper chemistry knowledge so they can keep longer conversations with you

periodic table of elements jokes (Hange will, I just know)

will probably bring their own microscope kit when there is no schedule for lab

will look at you like you hung the stars even when you're talking about highly toxic chemicals

looks at you with heart eyes even if your hair is mostly disheveled from working for hours in certain chemicals

thinks you look adorable in safety goggles

shares a matching chemistry-themed coffee mug with you that looks like a beaker

one time, you had a lab accident but Hange was there, and unsurprisingly, they are efficient at first aid. their presence was a huge comfort, and they made sure you wouldn't panic the entire time

making sure you have appropriate experiment equipment is their love language

Botany

if you're a botany nerd,

Hange will try to impress you by identifying leaves around the school garden

will give you a leaf with a unique shape they found

will also pick the best tree bark piece for you (the one that doesn't have a brittle texture, it's sturdy enough that you can turn it into a pendant)

will show you a collection of dried leaves they tucked on their enormous books as a bookmark

they adore textured plants so they would be so happy to find some in your garden

loves the vibrant flowers that grow in your garden

they would likely want to surprise you by growing a plant and giving it to you on valentine's day

lotsssss of plant puns

knows how you water each of your plants because they always observe you when doing it

loves the way you observe each plant, knowing well if it grew new leaves, flowers, or fruits

they take you to garden dates <3

Physics

if you're a physics nerd,

Hange loves interactive toys that use physics. they would probably share lots of that with you

both of you would fall asleep together listening to Feynman lectures (it was relaxing, trust me)

this post:

you could talk to them about the most obscure physics theories and they'll know what you're talking about (which makes your heart leap with joy and end up kissing them on the cheek several times)

they're genuinely interested even if you're talking about steam engine history for hours

you get pissed off when the laws of motion are discussed in such a shallow, abecedarian way in high school and Hange adores your pouting face.

loves helping you out with calculus problems in physics

they became invested in chemical physics because of you

exchanges science books with annotations for you at least every week

loves silly, theoretical questions with you

listens attentively to you even if you're describing light and optics during a school disco party

adores you when you discuss torque mechanics using a basketball during PE

even when walking past a river, you can't help but tell them the amazing hydrodynamics of the flowing water. Hange loves seeing the sparkle in your eyes whenever you describe the beauty of the world using physics

volunteers to participate in your mini physics experiments

they are very resourceful so they mostly help you with applying physics to real-life devices/inventions

their eyes lit up when they see both of your inventions materialize but they're more happy to see how delighted you are

(i still remember how happy they were when they successfully developed the "Executioner from Hell")

it's canon that Hange has the best intuition and analyzing skills in AOT so you get along very well since those qualities abide by the principles of physics

these headcanons are mostly modern au bc AOT is depressing but I bet you and Hange would most likely bond over developing or designing weapons or devices for the Survey Corps

(personally, I believe that they would most likely be a physics teacher in modern au since most of their inventions use physics)

This teacher reminds me of Hange so much

Astronomy

if you're an astronomy nerd,

Hange still teases you about the day you met because your conversation starter is what is your favorite star

they adore you and even tell you their favorite constellation

probably gave you one of those glowing circular glass lamps with the solar system inside for valentine's day

romantic stargazing :D

and planetarium dates!

they love hanging out in your room because you can talk for hours while gazing at glow-in-the-dark astronomy stickers on your ceiling

you have matching astronomical sphere ball necklaces (probably have both of your initials too)

you share an astronomy playlist (could just be music or podcasts)

(self-indulgent but I think they would enjoy StarTalk and SciShow Space marathon with you)

they have this cute habit of giving you star-shaped food or any object that happens to be star-shaped ("this reminded me of you :D" they'll say)

your space movies watchlist will be playing on movie nights, Hange will also share a sci-fi movie list with you in return

they'll surprise you with intriguing astronomy questions and your heart leaps because you know they've been paying attention whenever you talk about your interests

-

I'm pretty sure Hange would also enjoy watching Rick and Morty, Futurama, The Big Bang Theory, Fullmetal Alchemist and such with you, especially in their downtime. Aside from science documentaries, that is.

#hange zoë #hange zoe #hanji zoë #hanji #hanji zoe #hange zoe headcanons #hange snk #hange x y/n #hange x reader #hange x you #hange zoe x reader #hange zoe x you #hange zoe x y/n #hange aot #aot x you #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot headcanons #attack on titan #snk headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #snk fanfiction #snk #14dyh-writes

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 2

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Indentifying! Reader Summary: You and Robert fall into a routine of your Friday Physics meetings with the never skipped dinner after. But as the tension grows stronger, the meetings suddenly cease to be about Physics with a newfound realization; and sudden change Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: N/A Notes: GOD, HE LOOKS SO HOT THERE!!! Anyways! Not even twenty-four hours later. I know, I'm very unwell and couldn't help myself. Thank you so much for all the love and support so much! The next part should be coming out very soon. And let me say, it may or may not get spicy *insert evil cackling*. I am also working on a new and refined masterlist! It'll be linked here, along with a taglist if you are interested.

Masterlist | Taglist

The image of you and Robert formed, and your Friday afternoon meetings with him soon became a little routine between the two of you. However, this barrier created a bond and broke through the force of physics into something else. 

You would always arrive ten minutes before, and Robert certainly noticed this. He enrolled you in watering his flowers outside, which you had no issue doing. Robert insisted on paying you ten dollars, which you felt guilty for taking. Every Friday, when you walk down Shasta Road, the flowers are more giant in bloom, full and radiant in their muted colors. Robert had even put a tiny vase of pomegranate flowers on his desk. In one of your meetings, he confessed that he didn’t know such a plant was growing in his garden. You told him now he had pomegranates to make with his meals. After each session, Robert gave you a pomegranate to go home with. Like him, they were hard to resist. 

The first hour of your meeting would be about physics, but the length of an hour began to shorten down to thirty minutes, forty-five minutes sometimes. You could sense that Robert wanted to get out of Physics much as you on your late Friday afternoons together. 

And then Robert would ask that same old question of wanting to stay for dinner. He’d preface it with the meal he was making, which was starting to fall into the pattern of recipes you recommended. 

And without fail, you would always say yes, lacking hesitation. 

In the first set of meetings, Robert would cook. He’d ask you to go into his living room to turn on one of the records. You’d ask what record, and he answered with any since he would like what you would put on. In the third week of meetings, Robert stopped directing you to his record player, as you soon could locate the record in the middle of his bookshelf. 

Simeusolty putting on a Prokofiev’s Cinderella Record, Summer Fairy began to play low. The intricate and angular melodies to powerful and dramatic orchestration played as you ran your fingers across the bookshelf, observing the elective collection of books Robert had collected. Running your fingers against the thin pages, you looked down at his coach. Two pillows were propped up, and you could see his coffee table in the light. A copy of Sentimental Education rested beside the ashtray of many burnt-out cigarette buds. Robert was in the same chapter as you were. 

Most of the time, you would get bored sitting at the island table as Robert smoked, cut, and cooked. All you would do is drink his Martinis, which you hated before but now loved.  Without asking, you simply started to help Robert with the cooking. Robert never protested against this. 

As the two of you cooked, your conversations ranged in topic and vulnerability. 

Robert asked about your family life and hobbies. You told him you had family in New York City but spent a lot of time hiking in Europe or the Southeastern United States being outdoors. Your mother was much older than your father, but it was never an issue. You were the youngest of three much older siblings, two of whom were your step-siblings. You were into reading and art outside the classroom but absolutely loved the outdoors. Some things you didn't even share with Hatomi, you ended up sharing with Robert. 

Robert also shared parts of his life; in each part, you two learned that you were somewhat similar, as Robert would say, “kindred souls” who have found each other. Robert was also from New York City, but like you, wanted to escape the East and came out West for a change and its natural beauty. He also enjoyed the outdoors, a found horseback rider. In his youth, he was an avid rock collector and even told you that when he applied for a club, they asked him to come to be a keynote speaker. It fits his character. 

One night, as you cut vegetables and Robert sauteed the chicken, he blatantly asked if you have a boyfriend. 

You turn to him, and instead of being flustered and embarrassed, you deadpan and say no, before asking if he has a wife. 

“Had,” Robert corrected. 

Robert had been married to a woman named Kitty, whom Robert said was similar, yet harsher than you. They had divorced three years back, and two had two children together who were three years apart, Peter and Toni. Kitty had moved out to Pittsburgh with their two children but would visit with them every month. Robert did not seem sad by the divorce, saying they still cared for each other but no longer loved one another. 

The two of you remained silent until dinner was ready that night. 

Your meetings further continued with no issue after that conversation.

 It was like any other Friday night meeting. You closed your Physics notebook as Robert got up to prepare dinner, which would be chicken with pomegranate seeds, asparagus, and mashed potatoes which you taught him to cook. You got up and snuck beside Robert, taking pomegranate seeds and putting them in between your lips. 

He looked over and smiled, shaking his head. He mumbled something under his breath in which you missed. 

“Robert, you must stop asking if I will stay for dinner,” You casually teased, bringing another seed to your lips. You moved the bubbly and wet seed around your lips, adding a glossy red color to the center of your lips, “Especially when you know the answer.” 

Your playful words hung in the air, accompanied by a faint smile that danced at the corners of your mouth. The atmosphere was light, and the tension between you and Robert was more of an enjoyable banter than anything serious. The act of painting your lips with the seed was oddly captivating, a unique blend of sensuality and playfulness that added to the moment.

On the other hand, Robert appeared slightly flustered but still managed a sheepish grin. "Well then, why do you always stay, y/n?”

You chuckled softly, savoring the gentle rhythm of your exchange. "Maybe it's your irresistible cooking that keeps me coming back, or perhaps it's the charm and wit of the company."

In mock astonishment, Robert feigned a dramatic sigh, his hand on his chest. "Ah, so you're saying it's not my dashing good looks that have you hooked?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, a mock expression of disbelief on your face. "Oh yes, Robert, your dashing good looks are definitely a bonus. But it's the entire package that keeps me intrigued."

The two of you shared a lighthearted laugh, the energy between you bubbling with a mix of familiarity and affection. Clearly, this banter was a delightful ritual you both enjoyed, a way to express your fondness for each other without saying it outright.

Robert leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I might have to keep asking about dinner just to hear your flattering reasons."

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Well, if that's your plan, then I'll just have to keep giving you reasons, won't I?"

The playful challenge hung in the air, the unspoken understanding between you both weaving a tapestry of shared moments and shared jokes. As the evening continued, the seed on your lips became a symbol of this unique connection, a touch of color that spoke volumes about the newfound chemistry you shared with Robert.

After finishing dinner and cleanup, Robert invited you to his living space. From what you have seen in his house, the living room was by far the biggest. The room smelt like oakwood with its Mahogany shelves of aged books and artifacts from Europe. Prokofiev’s Cinderella plays slowly as Robert and you rest on the couch, only a few inches apart. 

In a quiet moment that exudes an air of undeniable allure, Robert reaches into his pants pocket to fetch another box of cigarettes. His fingers move with a graceful confidence, effortlessly withdrawing a sleek pack of cigarettes. The soft glow of ambient light plays upon his lean features, enhancing the sharp angles of his jawline and the subtle smirk that graces his lips.

As he taps the pack against the palm of his hand, a sense of anticipation seems to envelop the surroundings. The action is as deliberate as it is captivating, every movement purposeful and measured. With a smooth and calculated gesture, he slides a cigarette from its sanctuary within the pack, drawing attention to the meticulous attention to detail that defines his every action.

Bringing the slender cylinder to his lips, his eyes remain fixed on the horizon, an enigmatic gaze that hints at depths of both experience and mystery. His fingers deftly produce a matchbox, which, when opened, reveals a single matchstick ready for ignition. The flame is brought to life with a flick of his thumb, illuminating his features momentarily and casting an enchanting glint in his eyes.

The first inhalation is a languid dance between his lips and the cigarette, an intimate connection that only accentuates his innate allure. A plume of smoke curls gracefully from his lips, an ethereal veil that frames his visage like a work of art. The atmosphere seems to pulse with his intoxicating energy as if drawn into the magnetic pull of this captivating moment.

As he exhales, the tendrils of smoke disperse into the air, a testament to his ability to command the space around him and the elements that entwine with his presence. The remaining smoke dances and swirls in the air, mimicking the invisible threads of attraction that weave between observer and observed.

You watch the smoke dance across the dark room in its dark and light hues. Robert sees you in admiration of the smoke (and him, but that’s a secret you keep to yourself) and pulls a stick out, holding it out in front of you. There’s no need to respond verbally; you let him put the cigarette between your lips. 

Robert’s fingers, capable and elegant, hold the cigarette with a reverence that speaks of his attentiveness to the details that matter. The slender cylinder is presented not as a mere object but as a gesture of connection, a bridge between the worlds of conversation and quiet contemplation.

He raises the matchbox, its lid flipping open with a soft whisper of anticipation ember at the tip of the match glows with an ephemeral beauty, casting a warm radiance that highlights the contours of his hands and the contours of your cheek.

Drawing the match to the cigarette, the flame bends obediently to his command, transferring its life to the waiting tobacco. As the cigarette ignites, its end glowing with an ember-like intensity, Robert's eyes meet yours, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment.

Robert brings the cigarette to your lips with a tender elegance, his fingers barely grazing your cheek in a caress that sets the heart aflutter. The touch is fleeting but leaves a lingering impression, a sensation of connection that transcends the physical realm. The smoke dances gracefully from the lit end, curling into the atmosphere like a wisp of shared conversation.

The gesture encapsulates more than a simple offering; it encapsulates his genuine nature and ability to infuse even the most ordinary moments with a touch of extraordinary intimacy. In this ephemeral exchange, the barley touch of Robert’s fingers against your cheek lingers like an echo, a reminder of the subtle and beautiful connections forged through the simplest gestures.

You fall back and take a drag into the cigarette, exhaling the smoke. It was your first time with a cigarette, so you inhaled too much smoke and coughed slightly. 

Robert looks back at you, and like a sly predator watching its prey, he too leans back. You can feel the weight of the pillow sink back. Your mouth nearly drops the cigarette as you look over, goosebumps now appearing over your legs. Shifting in your position, you don’t move farther away. Oppenheimer’s another atom bond, in which you feel connected, despite your differences. 

Hearing your mother’s and older sister's voice ridiculing dating a man who could be one of your brother’s ages, you take another drag and exhale smoke as the nicotine soothes your anxiety. 

“I understand now why people smoke.”

You can feel Oppenheimer’s intense stare, not that it bothers you at all. 

 There’s a small silence for a few minutes. The two of you bask in the setting sun, watching the smoke play against the hues of the sun. You swear you feel your eyes get heavy, both from the buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine of the cigarette. 

The couch feels lighter as you feel Robert get up and walk over to the bookcase. Admiration mingles with a sense of awe as you watch your professor navigate the rows of tomes. His movements are measured and deliberate as he selects a book that promises to unfurl a tapestry of thoughts and ideas. The act itself is a testament to his insatiable thirst for knowledge, a quality that you have deemed extremely handsome to the tall and slender man. 

He walks in front of you and flips through the pages, putting the book down in your lap. 

You put your cigarette in the ashtray and hold the book to examine it, “Les Fleurs Del Mal.” 

“One of my recommendations to you,” Robert responded as he sat back on the couch. The room suddenly got hotter as he felt closer than he did before, “It’s scattered poetry. You can skim, but I don’t recommend it unless you want to enjoy it.”

Your speculation proved to be true when Robert pointed to a page in the book, feeling his thigh scrap against yours. Butterflies danced in your stomach as your cheeks got that burning sensation again. 

“These are some of my favorites,” Robert pointed, his finger gracing the page, “That I want you to read.” 

Halting your breath, you look at him, and he’s looking right at you. More like right into you. Robert's eyes are like an ocean; they're truly the bluest you have seen. They hold a depth that draws you in, in which you find yourself lost, embraced by an intimate connection that speaks volumes without a single word.

“Read?” You almost stutter, “to myself?”

“Outloud, dear.” Robert’s smooth voice politely commands. 

Suddenly, your limbs feel both hot and weak. Robert leans in closer, taking another drag of his cigarette. His gaze does not once leave you. 

You put one hand on the page and the other on the soft pillow as your fingers soften the material. Clearing your throat, you look at the first poem and take in a deep breath to contain a noise of ecstasy and pleasure. 

I know your heart, which overflows With outworn loves long cast aside, Still like a furnace flames and glows, And you within your breast enclose A damned soul's unbending pride;

But till your dreams without release

Reflect the leaping flames of hell;

Till in a nightmare without cease

You dream of poison to bring peace, And love cold steel and powder well;

And tremble at each opened door, And feel for every man distrust, And shudder at the striking hour - Till then you have not felt the power Of Irresistible Disgust.

My queen, my slave, whose love is fear, When you awaken shuddering, Until that awful hour be here,

You cannot say at midnight drear :

"I am your equal, O my King!"

Robert only responds by turning the page to the following poem, A Carcass. In the corner of your eye, his hand rests on the couch, only an inch away from yours. Before looking back at the page, you uncurl your fist, lying all of your finger against the couch, less than an inch away from Robert’s. 

Recall to mind the sight we saw, my soul,

That soft, sweet summer day:

Upon a bed of flints a carrion foul,

Just as we turn'd the way,

Its legs erected, wanton-like, in air,

Burning and sweating pest,

In unconcern'd and cynic sort laid bare

To view its noisome breast.

The sun lit up the rottenness with gold, To bake it well inclined,

And give great Nature back a hundredfold

All she together join'd.

The sky regarded as the carcass proud

Oped flower-like to the day;

So strong the odour, on the grass you vow'd You thought to faint away.

Robert’s index finger is now hooking onto your smaller pinkie. You relax your hand as his hand covers yours, his touch gentle and alluring. You don’t know much you’ll be able to read in a controlled state. Robert turns to the next poem as his hand covers yours, his thumb stroking the top of your hand. 

“My personal favorite,” He murmurs—Love’s Lighting. 

Gulping, you proceed to read, slowly breaking down. 

Last night as I lay awake in bed A flash of you came into my head And into my heart, and straightway fled.

It passed from the chamber suddenly,

Leaving no trace to know it by

But a tightened breast and a wet, glad eye.

Like a moonray soft it came and went,

Which glimmers through where the cloud-wrack's

rent,

Hovers a moment and then is spent;

Or a bee against a window-pane,

Which taps but once and never again, Some autumn day, before the rain.

For one brief moment I felt it stealing Along the verge of thought and feeling

As though some great vague thing revealing,

As though for that moment sad and sweet

My soul was out in the infinite, And Life and Death were as one to it.

You close the book and look at Robert, catching his eyes before looking at your intertwined hands. His hand covers yours, his fingers laced within yours. He gently squeezes your hand, propelling you to move closer to him, which you do. 

“Your eyes,” You murmur as Robert brings you closer to him, your faces an inch apart, “There blue. But there’s something in them. There’s a spark, an explosion. There’s a burning desire, surrounded by the never-ending sea.” 

Robert is just as enchanted as you are. He brings his free hand to your cheek, stroking your smooth skin like you are a fragile China doll. 

“If there is a god, he spent more time on you,” Robert confessed, moving to the back of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

“Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen. Can you let me kiss you?” 

Your hand moves to Robert’s cheek, and he leans into your touch. 

"If there is a god, he spent more time on you," Robert confessed, his voice a warm breath against your skin as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

"Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen," he murmured, his gaze locked onto your lips with a mixture of desire and reverence. His thumb brushed your lower lip in a gentle, teasing caress. "Can you let me kiss you?"

Your heart fluttered in response, your chest rising and falling with each anticipatory breath. Your fingers moved to cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble against your palm as you leaned in, your lips drawing closer to his. The world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the soft, charged atmosphere between you.

His lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It had been your first, so you let him overtake as you enjoyed. It was a dance of sensations, a slow exploration of desire and affection. The touch was gentle, as if he was savoring every moment, every nuance of the connection that formed between your lips. His mouth moved against yours with delicate precision, a symphony of longing and intimacy that left you breathless.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the possessiveness in the way he held you, his fingers threading through your hair, anchoring you closer. His hand, which held yours found the small of your back, a reassuring pressure that drew you impossibly nearer. 

Time lost meaning as your lips moved together, a rhythm that spoke of shared longing and a connection beyond the physical. It was a kiss that whispered promises of intimacy and trust, an unspoken understanding that bound you together in that stolen moment of tenderness and desire.

As Robert kissed and held you, you loved the sensation of being adored. The romance between you, too, however, was forbidden. He was thirty, and you were a teenager, albeit legal, but recently, a little girl. But you couldn’t resist, and he couldn’t control his desire. After all, Life and Death were as one to it. 

#carrie writes #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #robert j oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Some head canons

Teen hanma

also can see him being the type of guy who picks video games over studies

He watched tv once (horror movie)

with kisaki and it ended up with kisaki wacking him in the nuts

He has a thing for saying "fuck it" alot after risking something stupid

Hanma has a thing for clinging up your window and knocking on it at 4am

timeskip hanma

Hanma has a whole collection of watchsHe probably kisses his s/forehead while softly speaking to them about the, plans for the day every morning

homeless hanma befriended a lot of street cats and when he finds money he buys the cats food instead of buying himself food

Hi Kat, thanks for another ask (I'm absolutely lovin' this)!

C/W ::: Mmm, nothing really. More sweet Shuji.

︽ I can definitely feel the whole play before studying. If he studies that night at all. Shuji isn't stupid. He's not necessarily book smart, either. But he figures he's made it this far. What more does the world want from him?

︽ I feel like Kisaki gets really impatient with Hanma (especially) sometimes and feels like there's no other option but to whack him on the balls. But to be fair, Kisaki feels like that about a lot of people.

︽ He DOES say fuck it. I think before doing stupid shit, too. Sometimes, that's the last little push he needs from himself to get the (crazy) job done.

︽ Hanma totally goes to your window at 4am. On nights when he just can't stop thinking about you and how nice you keep being to him. You're one of the first people that doesn't treat him like an absolute asshole (that he secretly feels like??? Is that so much of a stretch?)

︽ He is so vain sometimes! But he would argue there's "nothing wrong with taking pride in your outer appearance." Whether it be with clothing, jewelry, watches, hair ... the man probably has a regular place he gets his brows done, gets facials, and has regular full-body massages. I just see him as someone who likes to be papmered. So what if he has to do it for himself. He's earned it (lowkey not really, though, but he has that mentality that he "deserves it").

︽ When you and Hanma spend the night together, it's usually at his place. He likes the added security of his boys being nearby if anything happens. He can send you off with them or have them stay with you there (he might not even have to wake you up if there's anything eventful happening in the middle of the night), and he won't need to worry about you getting hurt over some stupid shit he started with Toman or Black Dragon. But he totally wakes you up with sweet, soft, minty kisses all over your face in the morning because he's already been up for 2 hours, drinking his coffee and catching up on shit. He brings you a French pressed coffee (a latte, with your favorite flavor or syrup. I think he drinks it black usually, but you've gotten him to sway/experiment with his tastes a little here and there.) And he'll sit down on the bed next to where you're laying and discuss what each of you will be doing that day and how you're coming back to his place again tonight - because he said so.

︽ HANMA. IS. A. CAT. PERSON. I'll say it again. HANMA. IS. A. CAT. PERSON. His landlord/lease doesn't allow pets, so he has to do without. But! But! But! There's a dumpster out back that the complex throws their trash away in, and it's become home to about 15 strays. He saves his table scraps for the "little beggars" when he has something tasty to eat (and by save his table scraps, I mean he saves his food for them to nibble on). He only recently told you about how he helps these kitties out. You think it's the sweetest thing for such a tough guy like him to do, and you know better than to make a big deal about it because he'd get embarrassed and then he and the cats would suffer. And there's enough suffering in the world. You also slip about 6,000 ¥ into his wallet and coats once every couple of weeks or so when he's not looking so you can help feed him AND the cats. You're a big softy for general wellbeing. He's always so surprised to find the money, "Oh what? Look what I found, hana! Shit, I'm lucky. The happy look on his face is so worth it for you because you know deep in your heart of hearts that he's thinking first of the cats and then he'll get whatever he can with anything left over.

Taglist ::: @sjsjkkalatjejejskal @arlerts-angel @viburnt @darkstarlight82 @kazutora-kurokawa

I love your HC's, Kat! (And welcome! We're always happy to have more of us join the ranks! ONE OF US, ONE OF US! ;))

#hanma shuji #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #shuji hanma #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo revengers headcanons #hanma headcanons #tokrev #hanma x reader #hanma x you #hanma x y/n #shuji hanma x reader #shuji hanma x you #shuji hanma x y/n

[punisheddonjuan]

Books have proved remarkably resilient. Not only in themselves but collectively. From social media “shelfies” to Zoom backgrounds, to hyperinflated coffee-table tomes, books are everywhere nowadays, even — perhaps even especially — in the homes of people who never really read. They are even at the heart of what has been described as 2024’s first major design trend: “bookshelf wealth”. There are thousands of TikTok influencers proselytising the trend, suddenly realising that bookshelves, with books on them, might be cool. It’s a lived-in, old-fashioned look, which includes a “curated” collection of books — supposedly of titles it looks like you might have actually read — patterned wallpaper, comfortable furniture and art displayed in ways that make actual access to the books just that little bit harder: hung from shelves, with frames overlapping, leaning against or sometimes on the books.

So this is actually a fairly interesting history of the use of books for aesthetic purposes in the construction of class signifiers, and I've long known that interior decorators would buy "books by the foot" when dressing a home. —Although, I do find it slightly absurd that you can purchase according to colour or by theme. That having been said, I would actually buy a few lots of the purple paperback Penguin classics, but I'd also actually read those.— My real reason for posting this is to ask this: what is it with TikTok influencers taking a concept that's been around forever and presenting it as new and giving it the stupidest fucking name possible.

#link #article

[chiriwritesstuff]

Meet Me at the Farmers Market! - 6. All In

A Farmers Market! Joel AU x Confident! Plus Sized! F! Reader

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: What does a Contractor do in his spare time? Sell his wood carvings at the Saturday Farmers Market, of course! A Grumpy x Sunshine Joel Miller series collective of one-shots.

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: Mentions of a minor character death

Summary: A FaceTime call changes everything. This story takes place one year after the events of pt.1.

A/N: I knew when I first started to write for this series that I was always going to include Ellie, even if this series is based in a universe where the outbreak does not happen. I did fudge the ages a bit in regards to Sarah - she's in grad school in my universe in 2023, and Ellie is roughly about the same age she is in the game/series.

The point is, Ellie was always going to be endgame. This week's offering is a short one, but a small introduction to the inevitability of Ellie. It does touch upon a minor character passing away, so if you are not down with it, please move along.

Also. Sorry for the angst. I have a lot of plans for Christmas this year, so don't worry - It just needed a bit of a setup.

"Hey, Joel, remember when I told you about my best friend, Anna?"

Joel glances up from his book, reading glasses perched on his nose, a curious frown on his face. "Yeah? She's the one with—"

"Cancer," you interject, swiftly wiping your hands on your apron. You wave them in the air awkwardly, shaking your head as you nervously continue prepping dinner. Joel gives you a concerned look, raising an eyebrow as you flit around the kitchen. "Listen—she called me yesterday while I was at the nursery... she doesn't have much time left, and she wanted me to see her before—"

"I get it," Joel murmurs, dog-earing his place in the book and placing it on the coffee table. He walks over to you, enveloping you in an embrace, resting his chin on top of your head. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispers. "I know how much she means to you, it's fucked up."

You close your eyes, nodding silently, the tears you've been holding back begging for release. "Do you think you could come with me? To Washington? I really don't want to do this alone."

"Absolutely, baby. Anything. When do we need to leave?"

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

Joel sighs, the rumble resonating within you. "I'll have to check with Tommy, but I'm sure he'd do anything for you," he shoots you a look you can't quite read. "Come on, let's get packing."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The drive to Fred Hutch Cancer Center is quiet, with Joel taking the wheel despite your protests. "No matter where we are, I'll be the one drivin'," he scolds, shooing you as he places luggage into the trunk. Once inside, Joel connects your phone to Carplay, insisting that listening to Fleet Foxes is good for the soul. He sings along to 'Blue Ridge Mountain' and reaches for your hand across the console, his thumb soothing your skin. "Are you nervous, baby?"

"No."

"... do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk to me about that job on Smith Street," you silently plead, desperately wanting to change the topic. 

The plane ride from Austin-Bergstrom to Seatac, despite being only a few hours, was already harrowing enough. Your body refused to calm down, the anxiety about the inevitability of Anna's loss keeping you up for days after that fateful call. This is so incredibly fucked up, you cry to her as you refuse to meet her eyes through FaceTime, the vision of her frail body breaking your heart. You don't deserve this. What about Ellie? How has she been taking this?

Ellie. Your headstrong, brilliant goddaughter, your one true regret after moving to Austin. You left her high and dry, in her words, tears streaming down her face as she FaceTimes you in a rage after finding out you had abandoned your life in Seattle for Austin, Texas. "How could you just up and leave? Don't you care about me? What about Mom? How could you?!" she yells at you through the phone. "You promised her, you know? You promised me, Sunflower."

You shake your head, pulling yourself from the memory, suddenly realizing you haven't been completely forthcoming about all the reasons for this impromptu trip. "Joel, I need to tell you something."

"What is it, baby?"

"Anna has a daughter. She called me because-"

"Sunflower." He pulls over to the side of the interstate suddenly, his entire body turning to face you, a concerned look on his face. "Don't tell me-"

"When the time comes, I have to be there for her. For Ellie. I... I promised," you sadly whisper. "It's Anna's dying wish."

"... but what does that mean for us?" Joel worriedly replies, his face contorting into something resembling pain, sadness, and regret bundled up into one. It's unnerving, seeing him like this. "Are you planning on moving back here?"

"Joel, no. I... I know that I've only moved in a few months ago, and the whole prospect of promising something so monumental with your terminally ill best friend should have been something I was upfront with you about before getting serious with you, but..." You grasp his hands in yours. "Well, that's why I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to meet her. She's an amazing kid, and I'll vouch for her for life."

"Baby," he stutters, his eyes silently pleading with yours. "I know I promised that I'll do anything for you, but this... this is a hard ask. I'm old, hell, Sarah's already in grad school... how old is she? I don't know if I'm ready to have another kid around-"

"She's fifteen, and I know, Joel. I-" 

"This changes everything, Sunflower. Hell, I didn't want to come off too strong, but..."

"I know, and I'm-"

"I was going to ask you to marry me," he interjects, his bittersweet smile tugging at your heart. "Planned it for this weekend, before... having to come here. You're everything to me, baby. I don't want anyone else... and if that means rolling with whatever life throws our way, then... I'm all in."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," he sighs deeply. "Till death do us part, right?" He gives you a small smile, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Listen, I get that Anna means a lot to you, and promises like that aren't ones we want to break. So, what's important to you is important to me." He takes a deep breath, revving up the ignition as he merges back onto the interstate. "I love you, okay?"

"Okay. I love you too, Joel. A lot. Ask me again, once we figure this out."

"Okay." Joel grins, his eyes locked on the road ahead. "Alright. Tell me about Ellie."

#joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x plus size reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us hbo #the last of us #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters

[xiudaddyhadmelike]

Sehun as your boyfriend

- i’m back (i’m posting this and disappearing again for a year)

The Beginnings:

He’d be so awkward in the most endearing way, running his hands through his hair and fumbling around you.

I think he’d ask you out in the first week of knowing you, he’s a busy man has no time for waiting around.

Plus he’d be worried that someone else would catch your attention if he waited too long so...

Would probably ask one of the boys to talk to you first, have them hype him up and see whether you might be interested.

He thinks this is very clever and discreet but funnily enough you know what’s up when Chanyeol starts talking about Sehun’s shiny hair and his family’s long history of genetic health.

He strikes me as a bowling man. First date would definitely be bowling and then maybe heading to a latenight diner splitting a milkshake omg

After dating a while:

Orange cat dad, definitely. I will not explain.

He’s very patient, always willing to listen to anything on your mind - even if it’s about him.

His relationship with you would help him to mature.

I hope you’re patient too though cos this is still Sehun, man is goofy.

A lot of childish teasing, stuff like turning the lights off when he leaves the room or leaving the door open forget what I said about maturity actually

Not the jealous type. He thinks you’re the most gorgeous person in the world but you also know how to handle yourself if anyone tries to rizz you up.

Most he’ll do is throw an aggressive side-eye their way.

Loooves to treat you. That necklace you admired? Here you go. The restauarant you want to try out? Already booked a table. The vacation spot you’re desperate to visit? Get ready the plane leaves tonight.

On that note, he is the opposite of an airport dad, pack his passport for him and get him one of those toddler leashes head empty no thoughts

For your anniversary he’d do something lowkey and romantic, driving you both out to the countryside with a big blanket and spending the night stargazing together.

Habits and other shit:

Always goofin, would consider back and forth banter as flirting, you’ll have to be able to keep up with the sass.

This might lead to little spats here and there but since they’re not serious you can make up quickly.

If it ever came to real arguments he’d need to leave for a while to clear his head, take a walk with the dogs before coming home to stutter an apology.

He struggles to communicate seriously sometimes but he always wants you to know he adores you.

You’d both get into hiking, especially with having the dogs. They’re a great way to spend time together, productively but still somewhat intimately in remote hiking spots.

Speaking of intimacy, he loves to cup your chin and pull you away from whatever your task is for a soft kiss, and then he goes back to his day afterwards. Does this multiple times a day, it still melts your heart.

He might be a little messy to live with but he makes up for it by doing things like grocery shopping, cleaning the cars, and other out-of-the-house chores.

He’s not clingy in the traditional sense, but he wants to be around you all the time. You both often end up sitting together silently doing your own thing, like together-alone-time.

Dates:

This man loves any kind of beverage, so be ready for coffee dates, bubble tea dates, bar dates. Give him a yummy drink and you his yummy s/o and he’s happy.

Maybe more active dates, like skateboarding or paddle boarding in the summer.

Gym dates.

As previously mentioned, bowling. Idk he strikes me shoot me as a very competitive person and so it’s the perfect activity for him.

*NSFW warning minors go away with peace and love*

Sex:

He’s usually a pretty collected person, very in control of his actions and words.

Not when it comes to you though >:)

When it comes to sex, he gets desperate and messy, leaving clothes all over the apartment and kissing you like he craves you mm cos he does

Loooves to use his fingers on you, he gets a little cocky being able to get you off with just one hand.

Favourite position is definitely doggy so he can really grip your hips. He can also smack your ass, pull your hair, pin you down, just a great many positives in this position.

This man can move those hips so best believe he’s got the stamina to keep going for a looong time.

Equally, sometimes he gets overly excited and desperate for you and he cums early lol i stand by that this is a compliment

Dw though, he’s got long fingers and an eager tongue.

A lot of groans, light moans, dirty talk is a must telling you how good you take him omfgfg

Loves to shower together afterwards

All in all, a relationship with Sehun would be the definition of young, dumb and in love. He values you more than anything else in his life and will always go out of his way to spoil you where he can, knowing that you do the same for him. It’s truly like dating your best friend, and you cherish every moment.

#this has been in my drafts for 2 years lmao #sehun #exo #exo k #exo m #exo l #oh sehun #sehun exo #kpop #exo reactions #exo headcanons #exo scenarious #sehun scenarious #sehun fluff #exo as boyfriends

[astrobei]

SUNI!!!!! can i maybe request byler + giggling while kissing🫢🫢 go crazy with it i know itll make me insanely giddy

liv !! absolutely anything for you !! this got away from me so fast and it's so. it's. well. you'll see. here's kiss prompt #29 - giggling while kissing

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Will remarks, raising an eyebrow at Mike over the top of his book. “What’s gotten into you?”

Mike just grins, closing the front door behind him. It’s five o'clock on a Thursday, meaning Mike’s had class from ten this morning almost straight through four p.m., with a brief break in between American Lit and his creative writing workshop where he’d run across campus to the good café for a bagel and a coffee. According to all logic and reason, Mike should not be in a good mood. He should, statistically speaking, be in a really shitty mood.

And yet.

“Nothing,” Mike says, dropping his bag to the floor, right there in the entrance to their apartment. “And what the hell? I got home, like, three seconds ago.”

Will keeps the same look fixed on him as Mike kicks his shoes off, sending them tumbling one after the other into the corner of the room. “Call it a certain je ne sais quoi,” Will replies, following Mike with his gaze as he immediately moves to pick up his shoes. “I can tell.”

Mike turns and squints. “You know French?”

“Sure,” Will laughs, then sets his book aside. He stretches, long and lazy along the length of the sofa, socked feet emerging from the ends of the blanket he’s got thrown over him. “Let’s go with that.”

“You don’t know French,” Mike announces. He would know. Will took Spanish with him for all four years of high school – four agonizing years of conjugating the past participle and imperfect subjunctive – and was even brave enough to attempt a brief foray into an introductory college class before finally calling it quits. Personally, Mike thinks it’s impressive Will lasted the semester. Mike had collected his high school credits and never looked back. “I would know.”

“Yeah?” Will leans back on the couch, watches Mike shuffle the rest of their shoes into place on the shoe rack. “Maybe I do.”

He doesn’t. “Prove it,” Mike says, then picks his bag up off the ground and plops it on top of the dining table. “Say something in French right now. Something romantic.”

“Bonjour,” Will says easily. “Mon ami.”

Mike squints even harder this time. “‘My friend’ is not a romantic thing to say, and also, you’re a liar.”

Will frowns. “How do you know French?”

“I don’t,” Mike laughs. “But I read a lot of Agatha Christie.”

Will gives him a weird look, a little incredulous and a little amused, then holds up the book he’d been reading. It’s Mike’s copy of Murder on the Orient Express. “Yeah, I know. You're unbelievable.”

“I’ve been looking for that,” Mike says, even though he absolutely hasn’t. “You thief.”

Will just smiles, beckoning Mike over to the couch with his free hand. “You love me,” he says, which is a lot closer to the mark than Mike would like Will’s rebuttals to his (entirely unserious) jabs to be.

Mike walks over, of course, because Will is right, and Mike loves him, and love makes you do crazy, stupid things – like being happy on a Thursday evening when your head hurts and your body hurts and all you want is to sleep straight through Friday afternoon. Frankly, it’s ridiculous how happy Mike feels. It’s a bit of an embarrassing look for him, actually.

“Hi,” Mike says, entirely unnecessarily, and lets Will pull him down with one hand. He lands sideways, sprawled halfway across Will’s lap, over the top of the absurdly fuzzy blanket they keep at the foot of the sofa.

Will smiles up at him. “Hey,” he replies, easy and warm. It’s also ridiculous, along with everything else, how soothing the single word is as it leaves Will’s mouth, how Mike’s oncoming headache ebbs, ever-so-slightly, at the sound. Will’s still got Mike’s book in one hand, but he folds a page down and sets it on the coffee table, then scoots over to make room, pressing his back up against the sofa cushions. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Mike sighs, tucking his face into Will’s neck and trying his hardest to not fall off the edge of the sofa. He wiggles his feet under the blanket too, tucks them under Will’s calves, the warm fleece of his pajama pants. “A little tired,” he admits, and Will lets out a sympathetic noise above him. “But good.”

“I’m glad,” Will murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Mike’s head. “And I know for a fact you’re in a weirdly good mood because I folded down the page of your book and you didn’t even yell at me.”

It takes a second for the words to land. Then– 

“Oh, you asshole,” Mike laughs, immediately twisting around in Will’s arms to look at his poor, innocent book lying on the coffee table’s coaster-dotted surface. “You were testing me?”

“You told me you didn’t care about that anymore,” Will points out, one arm wrapping instinctively around Mike’s waist as he moves. “You said you were working on it.”

“I am working on it!” Mike protests. “It’s a secondhand copy anyway, it was already dog-eared and– it’s not about that! I just think you’re so–”

“Mhm?”

“So ridiculous,” Mike says halfheartedly, as Will drops a light kiss to his nose, then his cheek. “I’m in a normal mood. A normal, fine, ordinary–”

“Sure–”

“–and I’m not any more happy than usual–”

“–uh huh–”

“Will!” Mike laughs, breaking away from Will’s vice grip, pulling back from where Will had been leaning in to press another kiss to his cheek. “Oh my god.”

Will just smiles at him. His hair is a bit messed up from lying on the couch, and Mike can feel himself warming up, slowly, from the late February chill he’d braved to walk from the bus stop back to their apartment. “Sorry,” he says, a bit apologetic, a bit pleased, and entirely genuine. “You’re just so fun.”

“I hate you,” Mike whispers. He’s sure that any hope of the phrase having even the slightest semblance of effect is vanquished immediately by the way he says it – breathless and adoring and totally, completely lovesick. “You’re infuriating.”

“You love me,” Will repeats, looking even more happy with himself than before, like getting Mike riled up and flustered is the highlight of his day. He pushes a strand of hair out of Mike’s eyes and asks, more seriously, “Are you hungry? You want something to eat?”

“Yeah? You’re gonna cook for me?” Mike asks, as if they don’t know a grand total of maybe five recipes between the two of them.

“Sure,” Will says. “Yeah. It’ll be romantic.”

Last Mike checked, they needed to get groceries, and he’s not sure what they even have that could feasibly be put together for a meal, but Will’s weirdly good at that sort of thing – throwing the most random ingredients together until it resembles something vaguely edible. Not gourmet, by any means, and sometimes not even good, but, like – if you need caloric sustenance, he’s your guy.

Mike isn’t sure how he feels about another one of those meals, though. Especially when he considers the stockpile of tuna cans in the pantry that’s been there for about a million years. He gives Will a suspicious look. “Like what?”

“Don’t give me that look,” Will says, then shoves gently at Mike’s side to get him to stand up. He follows, kicking the blanket off into a haphazard pile on the end of the sofa, and trailing Mike into the kitchen. “Mac and cheese. From a box.”

Kraft dinner sounds safe enough. “Okay,” Mike says happily. “Thank you.”

He hops up onto the counter while Will digs around the cupboard for a pot, then goes about filling it with water. The kitchen is silent for a while, save for the low humming of the fridge, the sharp clicking of the stove as it turns on. Mike watches him move, a low flame of affection bursting to life in tandem with the gas-fueled warmth against his skin. It’s probably dangerous to be sitting so close to the stove when it’s on, but whatever. It’s the only strip of counter that has enough space for Mike to climb onto and still be this close to Will.

“What’s up with you?” Will asks, pulling a box of mac and cheese off of the cupboard shelf and peering curiously up at him.

Mike, a little belatedly, realizes he’s smiling. “Nothing,” he says, as Will sets the box down on the counter next to Mike’s thigh. “Why?”

“I don’t believe you,” Will says, then slots himself easily into the space between Mike’s legs, rests two hands on his hips. “You never smile this much on a Thursday.”

“You’re so hung up on it being a Thursday,” Mike hums, as Will presses his fingers into Mike’s skin, pushing up the soft fabric of his sweatshirt just a little. “Why are you– hey, that tickles!”

Will just grins, watching Mike squirm with no small amount of joy on his face. “Watch out for the fire,” he says, calm and collected and cool as a cucumber, like he wasn’t the one that nearly got him burned in the first place.

“Watch out for the– oh, shut up,” Mike says. Will laughs, low and pleased, and leans forward, tilting his face up.

“Come down here,” he says, frowning. “I can’t kiss you when you’re all the way up there.”

“Not my fault I’m taller than you,” Mike mumbles, but slides off the counter anyway. He lands a bit awkwardly, stumbles half a step forward before Will steadies him.

“I’m hung up on it being a Thursday,” Will says, tucking a kiss to the side of Mike’s cheek, right under his ear, “because you’re always miserable on Thursdays.”

“I am not,” Mike laughs, as Will pulls back. “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re up early and you have a million classes and you never get enough time to actually eat during the day and you never let me forget it,” Will says, the answer a little too immediate for Mike’s liking. He steps closer, presses Mike back up against the counter until the cold linoleum tiles are digging into the small of his back. “And you’re a menace when your blood sugar is low. Is that it? Did you eat a real lunch today? Are you currently operating under normal human physiology?”

Mike thinks back to the solitary bagel he’d eaten in approximately seven bites while running between the English building and the Communications building. “Um. Unless you count me getting an everything bagel instead of plain, then no.”

“Then what is it?” Will asks. “I can tell, you’re so– you’re being so–”

Mike gives him a strange look. “I don’t think I’m being anything,” he says. It’s true – he doesn’t feel any different from normal, except maybe a little warmer and a little fuzzier and a little bit more hungry than on his average day. “What’s your deal? What am I being?”

“Smilier,” Will says, tilting his head like he’s looking for a nonexistent giveaway in Mike’s face. His eyes dart over Mike’s features, slowly, drinking them in.

“That’s not a word.”

“If I guess,” Will starts, ignoring him, “will you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to guess– Will!” Mike shrieks softly, as Will peppers a quick succession of kisses across his cheek and down his neck. “Fuck you, that tickles!”

“Good grade on a paper?” Will hums against his throat, which isn’t really doing much to help with the tickling thing. Mike tries to pull away, but Will’s grip is steadfast, unyielding. “Heard back from your advisor?”

“No, and no,” Mike gets out. “Nothing happened!”

“Don’t believe you,” Will murmurs, then kisses Mike over the bridge of his nose. “Class got canceled?”

“Thankfully not,” Mike laughs, “because we were peer reviewing today– Will, oh my god, why are you–”

“Be honest with me,” Will says, squinting slightly, “are you on drugs?”

“How the hell would I be on drugs,” Mike stares, a grin spreading, wide and giddy, across his face. His chest is aching from laughter, cheeks already tired from smiling so hard. It’s ridiculous how often he feels like this around Will. He didn’t know you could feel so exhausted in such a wonderful way, by such a wonderful thing. A welcome ache, soothing and grounding and exhilarating all at once. “I don’t understand you.”

“Then tell me,” Will says quietly, leaning in again. He kisses Mike, soft and intentional, thumbs rubbing circles over his hips where his crewneck had ridden up earlier, long and slow enough that Mike forgets about it, for a second – the teasing and the prodding and the interrogation – and the warm ache of laughter gives way to something smoother, steadier. He wants to sink into the feeling like a warm bath – or maybe a dry macaroni noodle in a pot of boiling water.

“The water,” Mike mumbles, barely decipherable. “It’s boiling.”

“It’s just water,” Will says, “it’ll be fine,” and kisses him again.

That’s a good point. “Okay,” Mike whispers, and lets the feeling overtake him – Will’s hands, steady and warm where they’re pressed against Mike’s skin. Where his hair is still damp from his shower, because Will is ridiculous and lame and has one morning class on Thursdays and gets to lay around at home for the rest of the day.

Will presses another kiss to Mike’s lips, leans in once, twice, and–

Thud.

“Ow,” Mike groans, pulling away just long enough to squeeze his eyes shut and rub at the back of his head, where the cabinet had oh-so-rudely refused to move out of the way for him. “Great.”

“Mike,” Will says in mild disbelief, biting down on his lower lip. His eyes are sparkling, cheeks a little flushed. God, Mike loves him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he breathes out, smiling. “I’m– yeah, that was so stupid.”

“So stupid,” Will grins. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Mike groans again, exasperated and drawn-out, and that’s it – Will laughs, bright and happy and eyes going all crinkles at the corners and moves in to kiss him again.

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Mike protests, but he’s laughing too, catching Will’s soft exhales as they leave his chest, leaning forward to press more of his weight into him. Will moves easily, lets Mike grin against his mouth – wide and happy and far too pleased for his own good.

“Okay, don’t tell me,” Will says at last, pressing a final kiss to Mike’s cheek before pulling away. “I’m just happy you’re happy.”

“Will,” Mike starts, then reels him back in with one hand on his wrist. Will looks startled, eyes wide as Mike catches him by the other hand too. “I was– nothing happened, I swear. I was just thinking about you earlier.”

Will blinks. “You were thinking about me?”

“Yeah,” Mike shrugs. Will says this like it’s a rare, wondrous occasion – Mike thinking about him, that is – and not something that usually happens during most of Mike’s waking hours and some of his unconscious ones too. “I was thinking about you. You just– you make me feel better. I didn’t notice anything was different.”

Will just looks at him. “So you’re not on drugs?”

Mike drops his head to Will’s shoulder and sighs, long and bereaved. Will laughs, low and breathy next to his ear, wraps both arms around Mike’s waist, and holds on. “Seriously?”

“I’m kidding,” Will murmurs. “That’s sweet. You– really? What were you thinking about?”

This is embarrassing.

“Just you,” Mike admits, a little muffled into the fabric of Will’s sweater. “Just– coming home to you, after a long day.”

“Sap,” Will says, saccharine and so fond that it seems to be spilling right out of him. Mike can feel it, all the ways Will loves him, like it’s a physical thing that’s taking shape under his hands. They’re what make Mike think about him so often, all the time, in the middle of a painstakingly long lecture or seminar. Turning memories like these over in his mind, the simple comfort in knowing his day is going to get better as soon as Will gets his arms around him.

“Shut up,” Mike says. He turns to kiss along the curve of Will’s cheekbone, right under his eye, where the skin has gone wonderfully pink and creased with laughter, then pulls away. “The water’s been boiling for, like, ten minutes, by the way. Just so you know.”

#the actual giggling while kissing part was like 1.5 paragraphs #sorry liv #i hope u like this anyway :^) #saw this prompt n just #mmmmm m m m mm mmmm mm mm #domestic college byler my most beloved #god i'll never get sick of writing them #i have 234239837234 scenarios for them in my mind fr #n e ways #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fun sized fics

[morrak]

Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 142

I’ve been thinking a lot about criticism lately. It’s a thing I — we all — do often, of course, which probably makes it important. Some, but not all, kinds of criticism have traditions and vocabularies; you can (thought hardly anyone does) make a living writing about film or architecture or food. There are, on the other hand, some things about which a weekly column would have to get inventive. Spreadsheets. Individual songbirds. Tactile sensations. Rust.

I try pretty hard not to do the first kind of thing in these posts. Although that’s mostly because I fear committing to judgments on the record, it’s also (I think) an expression of sympathy toward the second kind of thing — not everything needs a critical tradition, but why not spread the attentiveness around, y'know? Maybe.

To such an end, posting about books is a pretty bad choice. You could argue that what I’m really reviewing isn’t the works themselves, but rather the choice to dedicate pieces of mind to them. I'm not sure why you'd argue that, but you could. If I’d thought this exercise through properly I’d have chosen some other thing I have several of, like 5V wall adapters or grains of rice.

Anyway, let’s talk about an art book.

Ben P. Ward’s 2021 I Dream of Dust, one of the four things Temper Books published before changing everything on their website to the past tense.

The How

From some small bookseller whose name I’ve forgotten and wouldn’t tell you anyway. A few weeks back, @krieper and I visited a printing studio that hosted some stuff — zines and local prints, mostly — on a self-service rack up front. All cool stuff, but this especially caught my eye.

The (Sub)Text

So, the Eastern Plains, right? This is about those, sort of. I broadly agree with the thoughts of this reviewer about the voice it delivers differing from Temper’s promise — yes, this is what Eastern Colorado can look like if shot competently, and yes, the meditation works for me, but no, I’m not sure it’s especially subversive.

The Object

I cannot offer you a good feel for these photographs or their printing here. Ward is on other social media, I’m told; you can also find some of these on his website.

This is a quiet project, which the printing respects. Thoughtful margins, easy blacks and whites, satin finish, more blank space than photo. Large format shots at this scale just work. I’m used to seeing posthumous collections or coffee table send-ups of painters, which are too often too full; this can breathe. Sensitive and inviting but only sparingly intimate. Glad for all that.

This first (and presumably final) printing comprised 500 signed copies in sewn hardcover bindings. Not unusual for a collection like this, but still nice to see and handle.

The Why, Though?

Because it mostly works for me, because it reminds me of other stuff than mostly works for me, and because the outing this came from involved talk of Colorado and Kansas and the Texas Panhandle, none of which I miss, I swear.

#images #untitled wednesday library series