#Rhysand

[copypastus]

The true joy of Nyxlin is watching Feyre and Rhys losing their minds about it as Tamlin and Nyx remain sweet and innocent.

[thehighladywrites]

Interview me

pairing: ceo!rhysand x secretary bimbo!reader

summary: life is hard and you need a job to stay alive. naturally, you apply at a simple job at a company you know nothing about. Well, except for the fact that your boss is a smokeshow.

warnings: swearing

amara’s note: i’m so fucking hyped for this series guysss i have so many ideas hihihihihihihi

explore azriel’s bimboverse !

explore cassian’s bimboverse !

“Shit, shit, shit—I’m soooo not gonna make it!”

Your heels clacked dramatically against the glossy, stupidly expensive floors of an even more expensive skyscraper. Ugh, why did life have to be so unfair? You were made for luxury, not working, but apparently, rent and shopping sprees didn’t pay for themselves. So, you had reluctantly applied for a simple, cute little job—being the personal secretary for some CEO.

You sprinted toward the elevator, practically flinging yourself inside just as the doors were about to close.

“No—wait! Please hold it!”

A man’s hand shot out, stopping the doors. You stumbled in, panting, before beaming up at him.

“You’re very nice! Thank you, mister!”

You didn’t notice the way his eyes slowly dragged down your body, lingering on your barely-buttoned white blouse and tight little skirt that hugged every curve.

“Yeah, no problem, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with something you were too busy fixing your hair to pick up on. “You work here?”

“Oh, um, not yet! I think I’m actually gonna get fired before I even get hired because I accidentally overslept. My alarm is sooooo weird.” You giggled, fixing a strand of hair.

He chuckled, pressing a button. “What floor?”

“The top one! I’m here to be the CEO’s secretary.”

His smirk widened, his eyes practically devouring you. “Oh yeah? Lucky guy. He’d be a damn fool not to snatch you up.”

You blinked, confused. “Huh? I mean I haven’t got much experience, not sure he’s be that lucky.”

His creepy grin didn’t falter. “Yeah. Sure that’s what I meant.”

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out onto his floor, but not before leaning in just a little too close.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you around, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and sticky.

The second the doors shut, you frowned to yourself as you went up the floors until a ding took you out of your trance.

A slim, tall, stupidly beautiful redhead stood before you, clutching a neat stack of papers. She looked so put together—her sleek bun, her expensive-looking glasses, her perfectly ironed blouse. Ugh. She totally looked like someone who knew how to do her job.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from the sheer luxury of this office. The marble floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rich people smell. Was this really where you were going to work? Oh my god.

The redhead cleared her throat, clearly unimpressed with your gawking. “Ms. L/N? Mr. Rhysand is ready for you.”

“Oh! Right! Yeah, of course!” You smoothed down your skirt and stepped forward—business wear was so not your thing. It totally oppressed your usual style and it made you look too corporate-y.

The redhead sighed. “This way.”

You nodded, flashing her a big, dazzling smile as you followed her down the hallway.

“Mr. Rhysand is a very busy man who doesn’t tolerate mistakes. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

She gave you a slow, judgmental once-over before scoffing. “And maybe try dressing like a professional instead of a hooker.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Oh… is this too much?” You glanced down at your outfit, genuinely puzzled. “I thought it was classy. It’s Massimo Dutti.”

The redhead’s expression didn’t change. “Just don’t waste his time,” she muttered before turning on her heel and walking away.

Shrugging, you smoothed down your skirt and took a deep breath before pushing open the office doors. Whatever. You looked cute, and that was what mattered.

You stepped into the office, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Your breath hitched as you took in the sheer luxury of the space—floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across the entire wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The furniture was sleek, dark, and expensive, the kind you only saw in glossy magazines.

Rhysand stood by the windows, hands in his pockets, suit tailored to perfection. The late afternoon light poured in behind him, casting his tall, broad-shouldered frame in a golden glow. His dark hair was effortlessly tousled, and when he finally turned to look at you, piercing eyes locking onto yours, your stomach did a little flip.

Oh. Oh fuck.

You were pretty sure you forgot how to breathe for a second. He was stupidly handsome. Very young and very attractive. Sure, he looked older than you but still. You had expected a greying man to be the big boss.

“You’re late.”

His voice was smooth and rich—like honey and sin wrapped in silk.

Your lips parted slightly. Right. The interview. Not staring at your ridiculously gorgeous potential boss.

“You’re… young.”

Rhysand’s brow arched. “Excuse me?” His tone was warm, maybe even amused, but his expression remained unreadable.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, I mean—I just—I meant to say there was something wrong with my alarm. I swear I’m not usually late!”

Heat crawled up your neck. His voice alone had you all flustered, and the way he was looking at you? Yeah, this was bad for your focus.

Rhysand hummed, watching you for a moment longer before nodding toward the chair in front of his desk. “Right. Let’s begin.”

He walked over, effortlessly graceful, and leaned against the edge of his desk—half lounging, half scrutinizing as you sat down, smoothing your skirt.

”So,” Rhysand leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his thighs as he studied you. “Tell me why you think you’re the right fit for this position.”

You straightened, flashing him your brightest, most confident smile. ”I’m very organized! And great at, um… scheduling things and answering phones! I’ll do whatever you want and need.”

Rhysand’s lips curled slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at the edges. His violet eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched you, head tilting just a fraction.

“Whatever I want and need?” His voice was smooth, dangerously amused.

You blinked, nodding obliviously. “Yep! I’m super dedicated. I’ll make your coffee, organize your files, take notes, remind you of meetings—oh! And I’m a great assistant. I’ll be there when ya need me.”

Rhysand let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “That’s good to know.” His gaze swept over you, lingering just long enough to make you squirm before he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest again.

“So, tell me, what do you know about this company?”

Shit. You knew absolutely nothing. His eyes narrowed, clearly seeing right through you. Damn it. You only had one option left. You flashed him a saccharine smile. You’d charm your way out, even if it was tacky.

“I’m sure you’re doing super important work, Mr. CEO. I’m just here to support you in all your very important tasks,” you said, stalling and distracting him with your charm.

Of course, Rhysand saw right through you. He could see right through your game, but he let you believe you were in control. You were quick, clever, and undeniably sweet—something about it intrigued him.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward slightly, clasping his hands together on the desk, and trying to hide the amused smirk that was growing on his face. “You certainly sound like someone who could handle the demands of my busy days.”

Not really. There were at least a hundred more qualified candidates he had interviewed, all more experienced and better suited for the job. But Rhysand wasn’t interested in any of them. He did what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was you.

His smile softened slightly as he leaned forward again, arms crossed. “You’re hired,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “You start tomorrow.”

You blinked in surprise, but then your smile brightened as you stood to shake his hand. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!”

Rhysand’s grip was firm, his thumb brushing lightly over your wrist. A small, knowing smile curved his lips. “I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect mistakes, nor do I tolerate them.”

There was no malice in his words, just quiet confidence—like he already knew you’d be just fine.

You swallowed, nodding quickly as he slid a sleek manila envelope across the desk, along with a heavy, expensive-looking pen. You hesitated for only a moment before pulling out the papers, scanning through them quickly.

Your breath hitched.

Your eyes widened as you reread the number, making sure you hadn’t misread. That much money—for what? Just following him around, keeping his schedule in check, answering a few calls, and being… supportive?

Woah.

Trying to mask your shock, you steadied your hand and signed where needed before sliding the papers back toward him. You stood, reaching out to shake his hand again, this time with newfound excitement.

Rhysand clasped your hand in his, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary. His smirk deepened slightly. God, he’s enjoy this.

“Welcome to the job.”

[shesalittlelost]

You mean humans ended human slavery when they rebelled against Tamlin's slaver father and defeated Hybern while Tamlin reinstated his father's laws as soon as he began to rule properly? The irony of giving the white, blonde, son of a slaver credit for ending oppression of the people he viewed so beneath him that he used them to insult Amarantha isn't lost on me

Ok, how come Tamlin was able to prohibit slavery in his territory just when he became high lord knowing that his would probably get him many enemies inside his own court and meanwhile, Rhysand hasn’t been able to ban wing clipping in the NC? He spent 50 years with Amarantha but what about the other 450 years? He’s not the most powerful high lord, he’s the most useless high lord.

[azsazz]

Destination Unknown (Part 2)

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Reqs: destination-unknown I still cannot let this one go, the best thing I’ve ever read on this app 😭 I wish he would choose us in another part // Writing this to notify you about the urgent need for pt2 of the following Rhys fics: waiting for the creation of Destination unknown

Warnings: N/A

Word Count:

(Part 1)

Notes: It's been over 2 years since part 1 😅 If any of the OG's are here, you're troopers! ily 💙 breaking my own heart with this one too

_________________________________________

“The girl that saved us. She’s my mate.” The words rattle in your head again and again and a-godsdamned-gain.

The crinkle of the paper in your hands draws your attention to the present. You sigh, dropping the paper to the familiar deep cherry desk. The one that you’ve been sitting at for the last fifty years while the man you loved was trapped by a vicious witch under the mountain.

This place—Rhysand’s office within the House of Wind—had once been your place of solace. Your beacon of hope. You and the High Lord of the Night Court had spent a healthy amount of time in this room of the house, first as his second in command, and then as his lover. It had been one of the places you swore you could still feel him when he was prisoner beneath her reign.

You had taken over like any second would, made sure that Velaris stayed hidden and safe. There weren’t many executive decisions to be made in the last fifty years, menial things like the agreement to build a new wing of the Rainbow, making sure that the city could still deal and trade without being snuffed out.

Now, this office serves as a reminder. A reminder of what you lost. The male that you gave your heart to, the same one who’d survived the horrors of Amarantha’s reign, made it back to the Night Court safely, with another woman’s name on his lips.

Feyre, he’d admitted, violet eyes wide and haunted with not only the horrors he so desperately tried to lock away, but with shock and surprise. He found his mate, the voice in your head rings again.

As much as it tears your heart to shreds, Rhysand deserves nothing more. You’ve always had an inkling that you weren’t his mate. He’d occasionally make offhanded comments about dreams he had, visions, he’d sometimes call them. Listening to the horrors he’d been through, surrounded by the rest of his Inner Circle, those sights had made sense.

It’s been two weeks since Rhysand has been back. Recovering. Mor had taken it upon herself as caregiver to her cousin. Cassian and Azriel visited the High Lord in his wing of the house often. Amren, too. The side you couldn’t bring yourself to pay visit to.

He’s asked for you. You can’t count the number of times Mor has barged into this very office—the one you rarely leave these days—and demanded that you come see him. That you’re hurting him worse by staying away. Now that Rhysand is back, that Amarantha is gone for good and the city no longer has to hide, there are things to do, cities to check in on, damage that needs to be assessed, and courts that need correspondence.

It's given you an escape. You can’t muster up the confidence to go visit Rhysand just as he can’t do the same to visit you. You’re terrified of what he’ll say, the very thing you’ve been trying to wrap your head around since the night of his return. To accept the inevitable.

That he’s no longer yours.

You smooth the wrinkled paper out on the desk, trying to refocus. It’s late. A gentle breeze sweeps in through the balcony doors, a chill that skitters down your back. The stars and moon shine brightly in the sky, and for a moment, you envy their light, their happiness. It seems that they’re even brighter since the return of the High Lord.

You can’t help that your mind wanders. To her. You wonder what she looks like, how she acts. She must be confident, strong-willed. She must be beautiful. You hope more than anything that she’s kind. She must be, for a human to give her life to save the Fae, the same ones that have abandoned the human-realm for their own selfish reasons.

In a way, it makes sense. Of course, the female who could take down someone as powerful as Amarantha would be Rhys’ mate.

There’s a soft knock on the study room door. One that makes you freeze. It’s not Mor, because she wouldn’t have knocked, she would have stormed into the room, he bouncy, blonde hair swishing behind her shoulders and a fire in her eyes. The both of you have leaned on each other for fifty years, you consider her one of your closest friends. But not even she could convince you to see Rhysand.

You’ve tried, too. Tried to make it to that side of the house, to where, admittedly, you’d slept in his bed the entirety of his time away. When you could sleep, that is. Surrounded by the night-chilled scent of him, lingering on the pillows.

The abrupt change from not sleeping there at all has been taxing.

You stand when the door cracks, busy yourself with the papers scattered around the desk. They’re organized perfectly, but you leaf through them again. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, not even when he enters the room fully and the doors snicks behind him.

Your name is a mummer. Relief? Maybe. Sorrow. Yes. The. Sound makes your throat tighten. You never thought you’d hear your name on his lips again.

The papers in your hands crinkle again.

You don’t know what to say. Your throat is clogged with emotion and your heartbeat is a racing mess. Your knees are seconds from giving out. Your fingers are trembling. You’re not ready for this, not ready to face him again.

You can feel those violet eyes on you like you have a thousand times before. Can feel the way he’s drinking you in. Or maybe he’s comparing you to how you looked the night he left, the same disheveled hair but for a much different reason. You’re sure you look worse with the dark circles under your eyes and the way your shoulders sag like there’s a hundred pounds draped across them.

Suddenly, you feel underdressed. You should have cleaned up your appearance, taken a shower, ran a brush through your hair.

Tears sting your eyes when your sabotaging mind tells you that it no longer matters.

You stack the papers together and tap them on the desk. “I’ve kept everything as much of the same as I could.” It’s difficult to admit, but talking about what’s been going on in the City of Starlight is a safe topic. Surely, he will want to know, will want to visit soon, show that he’s still the strong and in charge High Lord he was. “You’ll read about it in my reports.”

You say it like you’re ready to resign your position. You’d hate it if you could no longer help the city that you’ve loved and spent the last fifty years managing. Your heart breaks a little in your chest.

You’ve spent every moment since Rhysand’s come home writing the report. Spent every day of the last fifty years writing it, to be honest. In case there was a day that he’d come back. You haven’t left out a single detail.

The past two weeks have been spent refining it, removing some of the more inappropriate stories and comments now that he’s found his other half.

He says your name again, louder this time. You can hear the hurt in his tone, but he doesn’t move closer.

You continue to brush him off. Your head is spinning and you can barely breathe. You don’t know what to do. It feels as if the two of you are strangers. “Now that you’re back, I need to check on all of the other cities and camps within the Court,” your voice is tired. You don’t know what to think. He’s back, and he has a mate. Someone he’s destined to fall in love with. It hurts. “I’ve sent missives. I’m headed out in the morning.”

“Please,” he begs, and the emotion in his voice gives you pause. Makes your heart break. You know it isn’t easy, to be so vulnerable after having to be so strong for half a century. Tears sting your eyes. The tips of Rhysand’s shoes enter your line of vision. “Please, look at me.”

You shake your head and swallow thickly. If you look at him, see the devastation in his eyes, worse, the hope for his mate, it will destroy you. You know it will.

“Autumn has written, too,” you continue, but your voice trembles so much you’re not sure you can continue. You can gallivant all around the continent, but it won’t change the fact that the male you love is back, and has a mate. Eventually, you’ll come home, and when you do, maybe she’ll be here, maybe they’ll be joyous and in love and— “They’re asking for resources, to help rebuild.”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. An unknown force drives him around the edge of the desk, and before you know it the papers in your hands are hitting the wood and you’re facing him, your chin tilting up by his gentle hands.

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes and you clamp them shut before they latch onto those violet pools you know so well. You don’t want to see the heartbreak in them. You don’t want to see the remorse. You can’t. You’re not ready to give him up, because he’s all that. You’ve ever loved and—

“Please,” he says brokenly, so helplessly that you can’t help yourself.

You peek open your eyes.

And Rhysand looks utterly crushed.

His own eyes are filled with tears. Fingers trembling as his thumbs stroke your cheeks, catching the unstoppable rivers.

He looks almost exactly like he had the night he left. Older, somehow. His violet eyes aren’t lit with excitement and arousal, but burnt out with the horrors of what he’s been through. You can’t even imagine what happened to him in those fifty years, but you know Rhysand well enough to know that he would have done anything to protect his people, to help in any way that he could.

There are no words to be exchanged. You and him have always been like this, on the same page. You know exactly what he’s thinking, and you know exactly what he is.

You sob into him as he presses his mouth against yours. You cling to his arms, digging your nails into his skin. It’s a desperate kiss, too harsh and your teeth clack together in a disjointed plea. It feels nothing like you know. It feels final.

Like this is the last taste of him you’re ever going to get.

“Darling,” his voice breaks when you part. In this moment, you know. That this is all real. Rhysand is back. He’s back and he has a mate.

“I know Rhys,” your words are a wet whisper, and the smile that you try to force onto your face wobbles and falls. You clutch his arms tightly. You don’t want to let go but you know that you have to. “I know.”

[lycrosis]

Isn't it kind of curious that Rhysand, who canonically SA'd Feyre, killed an innocent human woman and hid life endangering info from his wife, is less hated than Nesta?

Like my girl's crime was just being mean and having boundaries. Cos amongst the two who both hurt Feyre, guess who apologised.a

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Nesta: Is there something you would like to say, Rhysand?

Rhys: Oh, there are SEVERAL things I would like to say.

[sthenoaloraquest]

Is it horrible to say I never saw the chemistry between Tamlin and Feyre? 😬

It always felt off from the beginning. It was like watching someone force a triangle shape in a circle hole.

When Rhysand makes his debut, I was routing for him 😂.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” said a deep, sensual male voice I’d never heard.

I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him. Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. (ACOTAR, pg188)

[waytotiredforthis]

I also need an ACOTAR fic where Azriel pulls away after the solstice discussion with Rhys and, like, several years later, meets his mate and keeps her a secret. (Maybe she's like, this badass elf or something. Or maybe she rides dragons.)

Maybe Cass and Rhys are trying to get him to go out and meet people and he's just not having it. Because, already found his mate and all.

And something happens, Rhys thinks Az is being weird cause he's not around much, and maybe Kier feeds Rhys bad info, and he kinda thinks Az is doing something bad, and it turns into a fight with Rhys acuses Az of being a traitor in front of the whole inner circle.

And Az just up and quits and leaves with his mate(who the IC still doesn't know about). And like 50 years later, Feyre is doing emissary work in a foreign land, and sees this little adolescent shadow singer running around and sees him go flying off with a dragon.

They try to get Az to come back but he's like, 'I have responsibilities here and I'm not moving' and just I need Rhys to grovel and realize you can't order people's feelings and stuff.

[siriusly-t1red]

Three's a Crowd, Four's a Party Part Three

Summary: And again.

CW: Smut, pure smut/no plot, established relationship, fingering, foursome, anal, oral (female receiving), stuffed, double pen, blow job, P in V sex.

Part 1 Part 2

"We're not done yet," Azriel reminded them, getting eye-level to her cunt. "Got a mess to clean up before we continue."

YN moaned, feeling his tongue dart out, lapping up the sticky fluids of their orgasms.

"Such a naughty girl," Rhysand murmured, his fingers tangling in her hair. "And look at this beautiful ass. Been wanting to fuck you here all night."

Cassian let out a low whistle, his gaze fixed on her.

"Please," she breathed, her body aching for more.

"Since you asked so nicely," Rhysand teased, his hands moving to her hips, positioning her ass in the air.

YN gasped, feeling his finger press into her hole. It was tight, the sensation almost too much.

"Relax, love," he soothed, his free hand rubbing her lower back.

"It's... it's..." she stammered, her body adjusting to the new sensation.

"You're taking it so well," he praised, his finger slowly pumping in and out.

"Fuck," she moaned, her hips rocking back against his hand.

"That's it," he said, his other hand moving between her thighs.

His thumb brushed her clit, and she cried out, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

"We're going to make you feel so good, love," he promised, his voice thick with desire.

"Oh, gods," she gasped, feeling the head of his cock press against her hole.

Before he pushed in, Azriel crawled beneath them, bringing YN into a slow kiss.

"Such a good girl," Azriel murmured, his hand cupping her cheek. "Taking it so well."

Rhysand pushed into her, his cock sliding inch by inch. She moaned, the fullness exquisite.

"You're doing so well," he grunted, his hips moving slowly.

"Fuck," she breathed, her walls clenching around him.

"That's it, love," he encouraged, his fingers stroking her clit.

The sensations were almost too much, her body overstimulated.

"Oh, gods," she moaned, the pleasure mounting within her. She almost didn't notice Azriel's cock slowly pressing into her cunt

"Shit," she gasped, her body overwhelmed.

"That's it," Azriel grunted, his cock pushing deeper.

"So fucking good," Rhysand ground out, his pace increasing.

The two males found a rhythm, their cocks sliding in and out of her, filling her completely.

"Don't forget about me," Cassian pouted, bringing his cock eye-level with YN.

"I never could," she gasped, her body moving with the males.

Cassian smiled, his hand gripping his cock, stroking himself.

"Open up, sweetheart," he urged, his voice a low growl.

She parted her lips, his cock sliding into her mouth. He was heavy on her tongue, his length stretching her jaw.

"So good," he moaned, his hips thrusting into her.

"She's amazing," Rhysand agreed, his pace quickening.

"Mmm," YN hummed, the vibration making Cassian's cock twitch.

"Fuck," he groaned, his grip tightening in her hair.

"Close already?" Azriel teased, his fingers digging into her hips.

"Shut up," Cassian shot back, his cock thrusting into her mouth.

"We should make her come first," Rhysand suggested, his fingers working her clit.

"Sounds good to me," Azriel replied, his own movements picking up.

The two males moved in tandem, their cocks sliding in and out of her holes, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

"So close," she managed, her words muffled by Cassian's cock.

"Come for us, love," Rhysand encouraged, his pace unrelenting.

"Mmmm," she moaned, the pleasure cresting inside her.

"Now, Cass," Rhysand grunted, and YN felt a hot stream of cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed, the salty liquid coating her throat.

"Fuck, YN," Cassian moaned, his orgasm triggering her own.

She came hard, her body shuddering with pleasure. The two males followed, their own releases filling her.

"Holy shit," Cassian breathed, his body trembling with aftershocks.

"Indeed," Rhysand said, his cock slipping out of her.

YN collapsed on the bed, her body exhausted.

"What do you think, Az?" Rhysand asked, a wicked grin on his lips. "Did she learn her lesson?"

Azriel chuckled, the sound sending shivers down her spine.

"Not yet," he said, his voice laced with danger. "But we're just getting started."

YN's heart raced, her body aching for more.

"Are you ready, love?" Rhysand murmured, his hands moving across her body.

"Yes," she breathed, the word a prayer on her lips.

"Then let the fun begin."

YN didn't know how long they continued. All she knew was that each orgasm was better than the last.

[elsbookblorbos]

My biggest SJM theory is that the reason mates among Fae is rare is because most mates are human.

The Acheron sisters all have fae mates, and had the bond before becoming fae.

Aelin and Rowan are mates. Aelin without her magic would have been fully human.

Drakon's mate Myriam is half human.

Anyways that's it, bye.

[feyrescourt]

Calling Sarah a “bad writer” for making Rhys “unlikable” in one book, from ONE specific characters pov, is so fucking ridiculous I just have to laugh.

[disn3y-land]

I was having a good day and thought "I'll go check out the acotar fandom I love the books!"

BIGGG MISTAKE.

[thehighladywrites]

so i decided to go with secretary bimbo x ceo rhysand for the last part of the series.

it’s gonna be hot, forbidden, jealousy-filled romance.

the first chapter is already finished and i’m so excited to share it with you!

[rhysands-rightknee]

rereading acomaf (scene below) and I always found it so cute that while feyre was sleeping Rhysand tried being so quiet as he retrieved her 🤭

I awoke one morning to the sound of low, deep voices in the hallway outside my bedroom. Closing my eyes, I nestled into the pillow and pulled the blankets higher. Despite our morning roll in the sheets, I’d been rising later every day—sometimes not bothering to get out of bed until lunch.

A growl cut through the walls, and I opened my eyes again.

“Get out," Tamlin warned.

There was a quiet response—too soft for me to make out beyond basic mumbling.

“I’ll say it one last time—”

He was interrupted by that voice, and the hair on my arms rose. I studied the tattoo on my forearm as I did a tally. No—no, today couldn’t have come so quickly.

[hexgirling]

“that character is a war criminal” that character is from a fictional fantasy world and did not attend the geneva convention