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[wheneclipsefalls]

Tawtute Sickness (A Precious Drabble)

Pairing: Adult Ao'nung x Hyperfeminine Human Reader

This one shot is from the Precious series. It can be read alone but reading the Precious origin story gives a better experience and context.

Summary: There is still so much that Ao'nung does not understand about Sky People so with your cycle running off track, he is in for quite a surprise.

Warnings: MDNI, explicit talk of menstruation, talk of blood, hormones, hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, dominant Ao'nung, interspecies relationship, aged up Ao'nung, crying, self doubt, insecurity, protective Ao'nung, swearing, PMS, sexual themes, etc.

A/N: This is just a random little fun something I thought of when I was on my period. Nothing like a silly fantasy to help one cope:)

Adult Ao'nung pic by @cinetrix

Another cramp rolls through you mercilessly. With a groan you stuff a handful of stolen popcorn into your mouth. Surrounded by a small parade of stuffed animals atop your bed and drowning in the charm that is Mr. Darcy, there is no better place to take refuge. Your period has sprung into action earlier than expected but you’re proud of how things have been handled. 

It had taken copious amounts of bribery to convince Norm to deliver an excuse to Ao’nung as to why you can’t see him for a bit. Although double his age and even in possession of an Avatar body, Norm has always crumpled slightly under Ao’nung’s presence. Even as his visits have become more frequent at the outpost. The sight makes you giggle, no matter how hypocritical that is considering you too were anxious in his company for the first few weeks here. 

Despite the time that has passed since feelings were shared between the two of you, there is still a level of intimidation and intensity that comes with Ao’nung’s visits. He is never shy when it comes to sharing his opinions. Half the time it is hard to tell what will come out of the Metkayina male’s mouth next. Although, there are ways to identify the mischief that dances in his ocean blue eyes before. 

And neither is he bashful when it comes to sharing his particularly ravenous intentions with you. You would not be able to count on both hands the amount of times you’ve tried to swat his hands away while the two of you are in public. Not that it deters him. With a potential mating on the way it’s clear that the Metkayina prince views you as his own. Even in the extreme heights of embarrassment you can’t resist the wonders that he bestows upon your body. Always leaving your heart pounding at your rib cage and red face tucking under his chin afterwards. 

So in a way, you can’t blame Norm for never growing accustomed to Ao’nung’s company.

Regardless, the alibi has been sent and you’ve foraged for the proper snacks and feminine supplies to get your through. Now all that’s left to do is tuck into your room like a locked away princess in a tower and survive the next five days. Everything is going according to plan despite the sudden arrival of ‘Aunt Flow’. And in a few days you will be back snuggled in the impressively bulky arms of a certain Metkayina male. 

With a sigh you snuggle deeper into the plush surface. Despite the risk of stains you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of wearing one of your favorite pajama sets. It’s a dusted pink shade of silk that reminds you of the vintage film Sleeping Beauty. With the soft trim of purple lace along the sleeve and shorts hem, you feel like a delicate princess waiting to be rescued. Perhaps a foolish and even childish way to cope but it’s easier to get through the pain when you blur the harsh lines of reality into that of day dreams. 

However, it seems reality will not be kept out for long.

Or at least, Ao’nung won’t be.

You hear his pounding footsteps before he even reaches your hallway, the faint echo of Norm’s protests doing nothing to stop that determined rhythm. Norm scatters away once Ao’nung has pushed your door open, with a little too much force that makes you cringe. It’s an under evaluation of his strength luckily and not rooted in any real malice. Not when his eyes now narrow at you with a playful reprimand as his tail swings. 

“What have I said about avoiding me, precious?” He clicks his tongue, hands atop his hips as you scramble further under the pillows and stuffies. 

You feel foolish for thinking this plan would work but now that Ao’nung is here you are ready to do whatever it takes to conceal your embarrassing condition. 

“Not to.” You cake the tone over with sweet innocence and an even more tooth rotting smile. As always it’s done with a certain level of hesitancy, your nerves getting the better of you when his bulking frame is taking over your doorway. Still, you’ve learned there are special ways to soften Ao’nung’s composure. 

He takes a few strides into your room, effectively prompting you to scoot back further towards the headboard. 

“Hm, so then why is my precious sevin tucking away from me? I’m starting to think you crave some discipline, paskalin.” That sharp curve of a devilish smirk looks stunning along his turquoise lips. And like the true traitor she is, your pussy flutters at the sight. 

It’s not fair for him to waltz in here with bedroom eyes and chest still adorned with a hunting harness and weapons. Not fair when your body is literally punishing you for not being pregnant and Ao’nung offers himself up on a silver platter for your nature’s carnal desires. And especially not fair when pieces of those curling strands have fallen from his bun and lay across his collarbones to leave drops of salt water. 

You are in no state to be making plans. And definitely not finding ways to coerce the stubborn prince away from something he wants. 

“I’m just not feeling well, Ao’nung. Didn’t want to make you sick.” 

Ao’nung scoffs at the idea, borderline offended that you would even consider that a possibility. With your delicate state it seems laughable to him that you would be capable of passing on any sort of sickness to him. 

“Such a fragile thing.” He steps forward with the roll of his eyes. “Do not worry, I will-”

His sentence cuts off as sharp as the jagged rocks on the westside. Now at the foot of your bed, his nostrils flare visibly. Your stomach tangles in despair, already anticipating where this is going. 

“You’re bleeding.” He states, dark tone barely giving you a chance to register his words before he is rushing to your side. Ao’nung crawls onto the bed without  a passing concern for the screeching of the bed frame under his weight. Within seconds his large frame is towering over your own smaller body until you are wedged into the corner.

“No it’s nothing really. Well I mean I am bleeding but not in the way you think…or well it’s…” The rambling doesn’t reach his ears, ocean eyes searching over every inch of you to find the injury. Trepidation settles at the looming embarrassment that threatens to follow as you desperately squeeze your thighs together. 

Fighting against Ao’nung massive hands that clutch your shoulder and hips to turn you is useless but you can’t resist trying. And then his eyes snap downwards and with it your last shred of hope signed away. A look of utter horror contorts over his face as he stares down at the thin shorts just barely covering your panties. 

A beat of silence ensues. 

Face now the shade and temperature of a raging bonfire you struggle to think of a response through the fog of humiliation. 

“How…” The sound is barely choked out from his lungs. It’s a rare sight to see Ao’nung speechless, every ounce of playful banter wiped clean. And if the circumstances were any different, as in not having that dread painted across his face at the reveal of your bleeding vagina, then you would be tempted to enjoy seeing the mighty male so caught off guard. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your plush hips. It’s clear that his head is struggling to come back online and process what devastating news he has uncovered. 

“Well you see-” Your voice unfortunately seems to snap him out of whatever daze he has been in, his body moving into action before you can even finish your sentence. 

“I will take you to my mother.” Perhaps the most terrifying sentence Ao’nung could say as he starts trying to pull you into his arms. Embarrassment bleeds into panic. A sense of anxiety bounces between the two of you as he rushes to scoop you up and bring you to the healer’s tent and you grasp at anything to keep from being met with the most intimidating woman on the planet in this condition. 

“No wait! Ao’nung it’s fine. I’m fine.” It’s not much use when he already has your wiggling figure dragged to the end of the bed with just one hand around your ankle. It traps you underneath his body in one swoop. 

“You are bleeding.” Ao’nung reiterates, sharp canines coming to show with a slight hiss. “Mawey tawtute, she will know what to do.” He nods firmly, but there's a crack of hesitance in his voice. As if the reassurance is really there for himself than anyone else. You’ve never seen Ao’nung so serious before, nor this panicked. 

Your pleas for release mean nothing as he quickly gathers you into his arms. Panic and humiliation work in tandem to wrestle you into a state of utter panic. And working more on instinct than real thinking you do the one thing that will grant you freedom.

You grab a fistful of curly hair and yank. Hard. 

Dropped back onto your plushy bed as Ao’nung lets out a pained hiss you scramble for the one place you might be able to hide. It’s painfully obvious and stereotypical but your closet is the first and only place you can think to escape the handsome male. The door bangs shut, encasing you in the darkness surrounded by frilly dresses and tickling lace. 

You grasp the handle with all the determination your exhausted body can muster. Ronal is a wonderful healer and exquisite leader but quite literally the last person on the planet you would want to witness your embarrassing, very stupidly human, condition. It’s likely that similar to her son she too would not know about human menstruation. 

It’s gross. You feel gross. Your entire body aches and as Ao’nung starts to yank on the other handle tears are already welling up in your eyes. From what emotion exactly you haven’t the faintest clue but the weak reaction brings a pit of annoyance into the mix too. Because of course all it takes is your concerned boyfriend who is just trying to help, to put you into another crying fest. This would be the third one this morning. 

It seems that whatever god created humans was far less kind than Eywa who at least had the decency to keep women from suffering monthly in the name of procreation. And with that thought in mind, anger comes to intertwine as well. 

“Ao’nung stop! I’m not injured!” A rough shout that is anger more directed at your current situation than hands that now swing the door open. 

The Metkayina male however is more than peeved now too. He isn’t about to take no for an answer as he hooks a thick arm around your midsection to pull you out. 

“Stop struggling.” He growls. 

You're halfway to the doorway of the bedroom and Ao’nung is anything but deterred by your babbling about how it is normal, just a tawtute thing. So your mouth makes a decision before your brain can approve it. 

“It’s because I’m not pregnant!” A shout loud enough to echo down the outside hallway and freeze the Metkayina prince in place. 

What a stupid thing to say. A terrible terrible mistake, you decide as you wiggle out of his grasp to glance up at his face. Now having rendered the male speechless twice in five minutes you feel slightly guilty. And humiliated. Along with disgusting, angry, tired. In fact you may as well feel every emotion under the sun with the way your chest squeezes painfully. 

“I’m not hurt. I’m not in need of healing. It’s called menstruation. Yet another wonderful thing about being a human woman. Where my stupid vagina decides to bleed every month because there is no fucking baby in me!” Your screeches make Ao’nung’s ears pin back, your chest heaving with the effort as tears rocket down your cheeks. You can’t find it within yourself to care that this is the harshest language Ao’nung has ever heard from you. Not when sobs are already crawling up your throat and tears blurr the view of the towering male before you.

The same male that is beautiful beyond belief. The same that has somehow found some interest in you. And now the same that has yet another gross reason to rethink being with a human. 

“So no I’m not hurt but I am…am…” Trembling lips crumble into a pout. Ao’nung’s tail curves. “I am miserable. Cramping. Tired. So fucking sad because this is the seventh time I’ve watched Pride and Prejudice because I can’t find the other earlier remake of it. And angry because I’ve already ruined a pair of pink panties. The ones with the clouds…that…that took me hours to make and…and I’m so disgusting!” Ao’nung’s eyes are blown wide enough to push his hairless brows into his hairline. “There’s blood everywhere! And I fucking hate it! And…and..my sleeve got caught on the doorknob earlier-”

Strong arms gently pull you until your cheek meets the warm skin of his abs. That simple action is enough to break the dam barricading your emotions. Now in a full meltdown, you paint his swirled skin with your tears and the racketing sobs fill the room sporadically. It feels nice to have something to hold onto, small fingers squeezing his hips as you break down. 

Minutes. Hours. Years. There is no recalling how long the two of you spend in that position as you unleash every torturing feeling from your chest. What you do know is that those large hands drawing up and down your back eventually soothe those sobs into small hiccups and then finally into short sniffles. 

“You’re not hurt.” Ao’nung checks again, calmly breaking the silence. 

“M’not hurt.” You mumble against his skin, soon thereafter mourning the loss of contact when Ao’nung carefully shifts you backwards. Disappointment does not linger for long, however, when a set of turquoise thumbs brush away the tears falling over your cheeks. 

Although his expression appears to be nothing related to anger, it’s difficult to decipher what exactly the Metkayina prince is thinking. A part of you wishes to not even venture to guess but that train of thought has already left the station. Another wave of embarrassment floods as you imagine just how ridiculous you must look at this moment. Eyes blotching and red as you cry over a simple natural process that is nothing in comparison to that of which the Na’vi go through to maintain everyday village life. Hiding away from your boyfriend in a sea of stuffed animals and stuffing yourself with popcorn as your way of throwing a pity party all while Ao’nung is still dressed in his hunting gear.

No doubt he has been up since dawn. Fulfilling both physically and socially draining duties to keep the clan running smoothly, in preparation for his time of reign. Ao’nung is everything you are not. You knew it within the first few minutes of meeting him. Perhaps he is not always the most patient or humble, but he is brave. And tough. Oh so mighty and resilient in taking on whatever Eywa throws his way. 

How much worse do you appear when coming from that perspective? Still dripping in salt water and spear leaning against the doorframe, what compels him to want to spend time with a whiny thing like you?

“Stop crying.” Large hands bracket the sides of your head as he works to keep up with the dropping tears. 

And you wish you could. 

You wish you could be more like the mighty warrior in front of you. Years have proven you to be nothing more than a small child that can not let go of her toys. Drowning in day dreams as your silly way to cope. 

That truth spins despair back into full swing. You feel even more guilty when Ao’nung pulls you back into his embrace, because who are you to warrant such affection? It’s clear that he deserves someone so much more and yet you selfishly accept the feel of his strong arms encircling you because it makes you feel safe. Because it allows air to properly enter your lungs again at a normal speed. 

When Ao’nung takes a knee to match your eye level, you twist to veer away from those crystal-like eyes. The Na’vi doesn’t give you much of a chance as he manhandles you back into place,his tongue clicking in disapproval, so he can look you over properly. 

“My poor tawtute.” He coos at you, as if addressing a lost juvenile creature without its mother. “Mawey, oeyӓ paskalin.” [Calm, my dear]  And before your brain can register the sweet nectar of his words, larger lips are pressing against your own. The light flutter of your heart is recurrent as he patiently works to deepen the kiss. It’s different from those that fill your passionate nights of lovemaking. Ao’nung patiently pulls you into that bliss until you are melting against him. 

Heavy eyes stall in opening once Ao’nung has pulled away. 

“Bring your mask.” Ao’nung intstructs abruptly. 

“What?” 

He has already risen to full height, a large hand resting along your spine to urge you towards the door. Unbothered by your confusion, he takes a well needed sip of air from his own dangling mask. When he does catch a glimpse of your expression he pauses before a smirk tugs at his lips and his tail bats playfully. 

“And your bunny of course.” He eyes the discarded toy with lips pulling back just enough to reveal sharp canines. “You will feel better once you are home.” 

And suddenly you are no longer confused. It should have been obvious, this most recent topic of argument between the two of you. No matter how fascinated Ao’nung is by your well decorated room he stops at nothing to coerce you to abide in his marui. He has been caught more than a few times even openly smuggling things from your room in the scheme of planting it in his home like bait for his prey. 

“Ao’nung no. I can’t come over tonight. Not like this.” 

Those hairless brows knit together as he sweeps over your frame once more. It’s clear he finds no flaw in your condition that would prevent you from letting him steal you away to his home. 

“And besides I have everything I need right here.” You scramble back over to your bed and begin explaining the little nest you have created for yourself. “Pillows for the perfect position, stuffed animals, snacks, and in another twenty minutes Mr. Darcy is going to confess his undying love for Elizabeth.” It’s clear that the last indication is lost on him as he follows your point towards the small tv. 

It’s not his first time observing the thin rectangle that plays moving pictures but it still manages to catch his confused attention each time. His lips curl back and faces squints with an utter look of disgust. The fact that the characters speak in Sky People language never helps to spark an interest for him. 

“I’m fine right here, Nung. I promise.” Your soft smile when you perch to sit atop the covers is only met with a scowl. The difficulty in explaining this to Ao’nung is yet another reason you had originally planned to hide away alone until this nightmare had blown over. “Go back to your duties. I’ll be happy here.” 

And that is the tipping point for Ao’nung. What is meant to come off as reassurance instead has his hairless brows pinching together and large hands settling over his curved hips. 

“You’re staying here for mester darsee.” It’s difficult to take his misplaced anger seriously when he struggles to pronounce the few English words. 

“No, Ao’nung that is not-”

“Fine. I will stay.” His massive body is already climbing onto your poor bed before you have another chance to protest. He continues to mutter under his breath. It’s a messy sprawl of annoyed curses and something about you not needing a Mr. Darcy. The giant Na’vi pouts even as he pulls you close to curl his body around yours. 

It’s wrong to keep the future Olo’eyktan to yourself like this but watching him sulk like a giant cat is too amusing to pass up. And then there is the comfort that comes with having Ao’nung wrapped around you like a dragon protecting his hoard, so you decide to be selfish. 

His curls tickle the back of your neck and a large hand spans over your abdomen. As he rubs soothing circles into your lower stomach you swear the heat and motion alone is better than the battery powered heating pack. The cramps don’t evaporate away but they settle into something more bearable, especially when your favorite scene finally comes onto the screen and you snuggle closer to your ridiculous lover. 

Slowly throughout the movie Ao’nung’s hand come to explore south into territory that would have Mrs. Bennett passing into an early grave. That confident exploration is a stark contrast to the simple touches exchanged between your favorite characters, but it holds the same passion. The same tension that has your thighs clamping together in defense against his devious fingers. 

You can feel the way his lips curve into a smirk against your ear. Period hormones are your sworn enemy as you are caught between fighting him off in sheer embarrassment and finally letting his hand slip underneath the band of your pretty shorts. 

“Don’t worry, oeyӓ tawtute. Next month I will do better.”

The sudden comments has you taken aback. .

“Do better at what?”

“Giving you my baby.” He casually states, unbothered by the way you freeze and struggle to take in oxygen. “This Sky Demon sickness won’t come for you when you are filled with my seed.” 

And like a silent promise, his thumb swipes over your lower stomach just as his fingers breach the band of your panties. 

I hope you enjoyed this little musing. I can't wait to carry out some of the other plans I have for these two. If you enjoyed it too please please let me know. I can't tell you enough how much hearing your feedback and comments means to me (anonymous or not).

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 4 - Oldest Friend | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.8

The two of you decided to go back to familiar ways and sit outside in your bathing suits by the pool wrapped in each other’s company. There was no anxiety, no uncertainty—just the two of you, finally alone, finally able to be together without the weight of the outside world pressing down on you. Jude reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

"Today was perfect," he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. You smiled up at Jude, feeling the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his words.

“Yeah?" you questioned him softly, leaning into him, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss that quickly deepened, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air between you. As you curled up against him, feeling his arms tighten around you, you knew that this moment—this quiet, perfect moment—was one you were enjoying too much and it was terrifying. When Jude tucked inside to go grab you both something to drink he caught himself standing by the window, his eyes fixated on you lounging by the pool before he returned. Your silhouette was captivating against the sunlit backdrop of his Madrid home. He couldn't help but feel drawn to you in a way that was both confusing and exhilarating. There was something about you that was intoxicating, a mystery he was desperate to solve. Every word that came out of your mouth was like a puzzle piece, hinting at something deeper, something you never intended for anyone to see.

You grew up living a life many would envy but few truly understand. Your childhood was one of privilege and prestige, cocooned in a world of private schools, penthouse apartments, and summers split between the Hamptons and Côte d'Azur. Your parents were French expats who had found their fortune in the glitzy world of film. Your dad retired early, his wealth nearly obscene, opting to buy vineyards in Burgundy and live the life of a refined vintner. You were born there in France then moved to the United Stated but back to France shortly after. You lived in a sprawling apartment in the 7th arrondissement, filled with exquisite antiques and modern art. Your father’s success in film had not only bought him vineyards but also a lifestyle that many could only dream of. However, beneath the surface of this seemingly perfect family lay a complicated web of emotional neglect and unmet needs. Your parents, wrapped up in their own pursuits and societal status, often used money, lavish gifts, and trips to other homes around the world to compensate for their absence. They tried to keep a genuine connection but it was often though the phone. This emotionally cold upbringing left its mark on you. You had everything you could ever want materially. Although, you grew up without the warmth and emotional security you craved, something Jude clearly seemed to experience the exact opposite of. You learned early on that love and affection in your family were conditional, transactional, something that could be bought and sold just like the art pieces in your gallery. This realization made you cautious, a self-preserving instinct kicking in that taught you to protect your heart and to rely on yourself for your emotional needs. Despite the glamorous veneer of your life, you often felt a profound loneliness and used hook ups to fill that. Although you had Whitney of course. She was your closest confidant, the one person who understood the strange blend of opulence and emptiness that colored your childhood. You were bonded by your shared experience, but even with her, there were things you could never fully express—wounds that went deeper than words. After finishing your education at a prestigious private school in Paris, you returned to New York, eager to carve out a space of your own. You had always been drawn to art, finding in it an emotional resonance that you couldn't find anywhere else. You pursued your passion relentlessly, eventually opening your own gallery in downtown Manhattan. Your gallery quickly gained a reputation for its cutting-edge exhibitions and the way it seamlessly blended contemporary art with more classical influences. You were stunningly beautiful, with a look that turned heads wherever you went. You allure undeniable and enigmatic. Yet, behind the captivating exterior, you were a complex blend of vulnerability and strength, a woman who had learned to use your looks to your advantage but never let them define you. Men were drawn to you like moths to a flame, and you enjoyed their attention but never let it go beyond the surface. You used them for sex, a fleeting connection that never demanded more than you were willing to give. They were like your art—beautiful to behold, to experience, but not something you were willing to let into your inner world. Though you portrayed an image of effortless confidence and control, deep down, you longed for something more meaningful. You desired a connection that wasn’t superficial, a love that wasn’t just a transaction, but something real and raw, something that didn’t need to be bought or proven. Yet, your experiences had made you cautious. You built walls around your heart, protecting yourself from being hurt by the very thing you longed for the most. Your life was a series of contrasts—luxury and emptiness, beauty and solitude, strength and vulnerability.

Jude sighed wondering just all that. Who were you? You looked stunning, your bikini revealing just enough to be alluring without being obvious and as much he appreciated your outer shell he wanted to know what went on in that head of yours. The way the sun kissed your skin gave you an almost angelic glow, contrasting sharply with the cool, guarded demeanor you usually wore like armor. Jude knew there was more to you—something softer, sweeter, hidden beneath that hard exterior. He had seen glimpses of it in your quiet moments together, in the way your eyes softened when you weren’t paying attention or the way you laughed when you thought no one was listening. He was determined to see more. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever came next. The sunny late summer air was warm on his skin as he stepped outside, walking toward you with a casual confidence he didn’t quite feel. He dropped down beside you on the lounge chair, reaching over to playfully pinch your waist. You squealed in surprise, your body jolting slightly as you turned to look at him. Your reaction made him smile, but it was the way your lips curled into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen that made his heart skip a beat. There was something so genuine about it, a softness that you rarely showed.

"Hi." You simply greeted him with a giggle. You tilted your head, your hair falling effortlessly over your shoulders Jude’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he was speechless, lost in the depth of your eyes and the warmth of your smile. He couldn’t remember the last time a single word had such a profound effect on him.

“Hey,” he finally managed to say, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

“You look happy,” you noted, your tone light, but your eyes held a hint of curiosity, as if you were trying to read his mind.

“I am,” he replied, and it was the truth. He felt happier in this moment than he had in a long time. “Just enjoying the view.” He cooed. You rolled your eyes but smiled, a soft blush coloring your cheeks.

“Smooth, Judey. You’re very smooth.” You giggled. Jude chuckled. He waved you to scoot over on your chair. His arms around you fast as he slid next to your body before leaning back in the chair, his gaze never leaving your face.

“I mean it. I like having you here. I like… getting to know you.” He smiled, playing with a piece of your hair. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—hesitation, maybe even fear. But then it was gone, replaced by the familiar guardedness he was beginning to know well.

“You already know me, Jude,” you said lightly, though he could hear the edge in your voice.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he admitted, his tone earnest. “I want to know everything about you, Y/N.” Jude, despite his love for a playboy lifestyle, was a significantly more open and emotional than you. He was close with his parents, his brother, his friends, he felt comfortable opening up. It was scary for him, sure, but he’d done it before. A significant more amount of times you had. Although he had never been this candid with a girl before and certainly not one he met only two weeks ago.

“Why?” You asked softly, almost to yourself. You glanced away, your gaze shifting to the shimmering water of the pool

“Because there’s something about you that I can’t get enough of,” he confessed. “You’re like… I don’t know. What’s a really beautiful painting?” He asked you and you couldn’t help but giggle at the overzealous nature of what he was trying to say. “I want to study you, to understand you. You’re beautiful, but there’s so much more to you than that.” He confessed. Your lips parted in surprise, your breath hitching. For a moment, you seemed at a loss for words, your guarded expression softening into something more vulnerable.

“Wow. I erm…I don’t know if I’m ready for someone to know all of me though. Maybe I’m just one of those paintings that’s meant to be behind the glass.” You whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft breeze. Jude’s heart ached at the admission, at the raw honesty in your voice. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to hold you and tell you that it was okay, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Tell you that he didn’t mind the glass protection. In fact, he understood it.

“That’s okay, angel,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere though, Y/N. If the glass ever comes down, I’m here. But I understand.” He cooed. You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his for something he hoped you found. Finally, you nodded, your lips curling into a small, grateful but sad smile.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Jude smiled back, his heart swelling with something he wasn’t quite ready to name. But as he looked at you, he knew one thing for sure: he wanted to be the one to remove that glass, to see the real you. And he was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of Jude's bedroom, casting a warm, golden light over the room. The soft, lazy glow bathed the bed where you and Jude laid entwined beneath the sheets, the world outside forgotten as they enjoyed the rare luxury of a day without responsibilities. Jude stretched slightly, wincing as the soreness from yesterday’s training reminded him of the bruises and aches that came with football fast approaching again. He let out a low groan, rubbing a hand over his shoulder as he settled back into the pillows. You, who had been resting your head on his chest, looked up at him with a playful smirk, your eyes bright and mischievous.

“Sore, are we?” You teased, your fingers tracing light circles over his chest, the touch soothing yet electrifying.

“You could say that,” Jude replied with a grin, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at you. Despite the discomfort, he felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. The softness of the morning, the warmth of your body against his—it all made the soreness a minor inconvenience. “But I’ve had worse.” He smirked lazily.

“Well, let’s see if I can make it better,” You murmured, your voice low and sultry. You shifted slightly, trailing your hand down his torso, your fingers dancing over his skin in a way that sent a shiver through him. The way you looked at him, with that blend of affection and desire, made his heart race in a way that no game ever could. Jude let out a soft chuckle, his hand sliding into your hair as he pulled her closer.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. You laughed, the sound light and teasing.

“Maybe,” you said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, your lips lingering as you spoke. “But I’m good at it.” You giggled.

“Too good,” Jude agreed, a smirk playing on his lips. He shifted slightly, despite the soreness, so that he could wrap his arms more securely around you, pulling you fully on top of him. “You might be the reason I never leave this bed today.” He cooed. Your eyes sparkled with amusement as you looked down at him, your hair falling in a cascade around them, creating a private little world where only the two of them existed.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” you whispered, your voice soft yet heavy with meaning. Jude’s heart swelled at your words, a wave of emotion washing over him that he hadn’t expected. As he looked up at you, he realized just how happy he was to have you here, in his home, in his bed. The past week with you had been more than just fun—they had been… right. The kind of right that made him question everything he thought he knew about himself and what he wanted. “I need to go soon.” You dramatically pouted at him. That was a fairly unfortunate truth. You were scheduled to leave Spain tonight.

“Nah, you need to take this off.” Jude cheekily cooed, dropping his tone. His hands began to roam all over you pulling at your clothes.

“Seriously, I have to shower and pack.” You frowned for real this time. You genuinely were sad but were trying hard not to deep it too much.

“Stay with me a little longer,” he found himself saying, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. The words slipped out before he had time to second-guess them, but he knew they were true. “I like having you here, Y/N. A lot more than I expected.” You blinked, the teasing smile fading from your lips as you met his gaze. There was a flicker of surprise in your eyes, followed by something softer, more tender. You searched his face, as if trying to figure out if he really meant what he was saying.

“You mean that?” You asked quietly, your fingers stilling against his chest.

“Yeah, I do. I didn’t expect to feel like this, but… I don’t want you to go just yet. I want… more. I want more of you.” Jude nodded, his expression serious now. Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. You had been so careful not to let yourself get too attached, to keep your distance emotionally. But the way Jude was looking at you now, with that mix of hope and sincerity, made it hard to hold back.

“I’ve been thinking about it… and I’m not sure I’m ready to leave either.” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think I need more.” You tentatively smiled. Jude’s lips curved into a slow smile, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you down for a kiss. It was soft and unhurried, a promise of the lazy day you had ahead of yourselves, a day where you could just be together without worrying about what came next. When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his, your heart pounding in your chest.

“So, what’s the plan then?” You asked, a hint of playfulness returning to you voice. “Stay in bed all day?”

“That sounds like a good start,” he murmured with a chuckle, the sound warm and content as his hands slid up your back, his touch sending sparks of heat through you. “And maybe, if I’m feeling up to it, we can move to the couch later.”

“I think I can handle that.” You laughed, the sound light and full of joy. Jude smiled, his heart swelling with a happiness he hadn’t expected to find. As you settled back into the pillows, you snuggled into his side, he realized that for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t worried about what came next. He was just happy to be here, with you, in this moment. Jude’s hand trailed down your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"Right now let's stay here though, yeah?" He nuzzled into your neck, his warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Jude gently pushed you from your side onto your back, his eyes burning with desire as he peeled off your clothes, relishing in the gradual sight of your naked body. Your heart began to race when he spread your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to him. Honestly, you were already aroused from the moment you woke up with that boy next to you. Jude leaned down, his tongue tracing a path from your knee up your inner thigh, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. As he reached your core, he blew gently, the cool air contrasting with the heat between your legs. You gasped, arching your back, as if you were offering yourself to him. When his tongue finally made contact, he teasingly flicked your clit gently. You let out sinful moans, the sound filling the bedroom. Jude was a master of his craft, and he took his time, teasing you with soft licks and gentle sucks and just when you're close to the edge, he’d stoped, leaving you teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

"Please, Jude," you begged, your voice hoarse with need. "Please let me cum already." You asked desperately after his third round edging you. Jude laughed, the sound sending vibrations through your whole body.

"Not yet, angel, I have plans for you." He smirked and with that, he reached for his phone on the bedside table, his fingers deftly navigating the screen.

"What are you doing?" you asked almost in a panic, your curiosity piqued but your desperation at a boiling point, your body craved release.

"Changing your flight," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I told you I don’t want you to go just yet unless you changed your mind. I can just get up.” He teasingly offered with a smug smile. You simultaneously wanted to scream with impatience but also pout at how much you liked that he was changing your flight because he wanted you to stay. You felt a true rush of excitement and relief that he wanted more of you, more mornings like this.

"Oh," you breathed deeply trying to compose yourself but your voice was heavy with desire. “Okay, thank you.” You mumbled shutting your eyes and dropping your head back into the pillow accepting that you’d have to wait a moment.

"You’re welcome, baby" Jude cooed as his tongue suddenly resumed its dance, lapping at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasped at the suddenness. He slid a finger inside you, curling it to hit that sweet spot you felt like he had discovered just for him. You cried out, your body trembling as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you were about to climax, he slowed down again, his finger stroking a more leisurely pace.

"Please, baby!" you pleaded, your words almost becoming incoherent as pleasure consumed you.

"Shh," Jude soothed you, his breath hot against your throbbing pussy. "I'll let you cum, but you promise to stay a little longer?" He smiled and you nodded frantically, a little confused because you thought you told him that already but anything to feel the release he'd been teasing you with. He chuckled, taking pity on you. He devoured your pussy with renewed fervor. His tongue worked in rhythm with his fingers, driving you wild. You clutched the sheets, your body tensing as your orgasm built to an explosive peak. "That's it, baby, cum for me," Jude encouraged you, his voice thick with desire. You whined his name as your body shuddered, waves of pleasure rippling through you. Jude didn’t stop though, he milked your orgasm, drawing it out until you were a trembling, satisfied mess. As you came down from your high, Jude kissed his way up your body, his lips claiming yours in a passionate embrace. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

"That was… that was so fucking good," you whispered, running your hand over his slightly messy hair. “Why would I ever leave?” You cheekily asked him, moving to cup his cheek. In swift succession Jude positioned himself above you, his hard length straining against his boxers. His eyes went dark with want. His cock thick and long. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. You reach for his boxers, eager to free him, but he caught your hand.

"Not yet," he breathed, his voice a bit strained. "I want to be inside that pretty mouth first." He gently pushed your head towards his hard on, and you obliged, taking him in, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting his salty pre-cum. Jude moaned, his hands gripping you as you took him deeper, your hands caressing his firm ass. "Fuck, YN," he grunts, his hips thrusting gently, guiding you. You sucked and licked, taking him to the back of your throat, your hand stroking the base of his shaft. Jude's control seems to be slipping rapidly, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He pulled out, his cock glistening with your saliva. “I need to be inside you.” He growled, positioning himself between your thighs, With one smooth thrust, he filled you, his length stretching you deliciously. “You're not leaving. Too good of a girl f’me.” He cooed as you gasped, your eyes widening at the intensity of the sensation. Jude began to move, his hips snapping forward, pounding into you with a primal need. The bed creaking beneath the force of his thrusts, and you matching his rhythm, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"God, you’re so fucking hot." You whined. He grunted, his eyes locked on yours, your praise only fueling him. Your nails dug into his back muscles as you clung to him. “Jude, fuck! You’re so fucking deep.” You moaned when he repositioned you, picking up one of your legs drilling into you somehow impossibly deeper. Jude reached between you, his skilled fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect sync with his powerful strokes.

“'Gonna make you cum again, yeah?" he panted, his voice hoarse. "Cum all over my cock, angel. Make a mess f’me." He commanded you to and as if possible, you listened just letting go of any control you had. You were a moaning mess as your high crashed over you. Your whines now matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your lips stuck parted as he fucked you into another orgasm. The knot in your stomach coming completely undone. Your pussy gushing around his thick girth in uncontrollable squirts. The release causing your body to shudder. “God, you’re so fucking hot.” Jude groaned watching you. He continued hitting a spot deep within you, your pussy pulsating, milking his length. Your pussy gripped so tight and intensely around his cock as you came Jude couldn’t hold back his own release. He pumped you full of his warm cum, spurting into you while your pussy throbbed. You stayed in that position. Refusing to pull his cock out, preventing any of his cum from spilling out as he rolled his hips a few more times into you. As your orgasms slowly subsided, Jude collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you close, his breath ragged. "I think I can get used to mornings like this," he said, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. You smile, snuggling into his embrace, pretty okay if all your mornings were just like this one.

Returning to New York felt surreal after your extended holiday in Madrid with Jude was extended a little further. The city was buzzing with life as usual, but there was a new layer of nostalgia coating everything you saw. On your early morning run through Central Park, you couldn’t help but smile when you spotted a jogger wearing a Bellingham #5 Real Madrid jersey. It was like he was there reminding you just how much you missed him, even though he was thousands of miles away the ache was there. Without thinking, you quickly texted him, the familiarity of even seeing his name on your phone brought a warm feeling to your chest.

‘Just saw your jersey in Central Park xx’

As you continued your run, you decided to call Whitney to catch up. It felt good to hear her voice, her playful energy always bringing you a sense of home no matter where you were or where she was. You were deep in conversation, laughing about some silly story she was telling, when your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You glanced at the screen and saw Jude’s name flashing.

“Whit, sorry someone else is calling me,” you interrupted her mid-sentence, your voice slightly breathless from the run and the excitement of hearing from him. You couldn’t hold back the grin pulling your lips.

“Oh, Jude, huh?” Whitney teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Of course, answer, answer. Tell him I say hi, and that he should be thankful I’m sharing your attention.” She giggled. You rolled your eyes, smiling as you switched over to his call.

“Hi,” you meekly greeted him, trying to sound casual even though your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. You slowed your pace, your feet hitting the pavement in a steady rhythm, your mind racing with thoughts of him.

“You were thinking about me?” Jude asked cheekily, his tone playful, but there was something more beneath it, something tender. “Was just thinking of that pretty face too, you know. I was going to call you anyway, see if you were awake.” He told you and you were fairly sure your heart grew three sizes. You stopped your run and began to walk needing to focus solely on him.

“You know I always get up early,” you reminded him with a soft laugh. It was a habit of yours he’d come to know well. Even if he wasn’t exactly a morning person, Jude missed feeling you kiss him in the morning before slipping out of his bed.

“Yeah, I know, angel. You used to wake me up with you, remember? And as annoying as it was,” he teased lightly, but there was a longing in his voice that he couldn’t quite hide. “I miss it… I miss you.” Jude sighed on the other end of the line, a sound that made your chest tighten. “Needed an excuse to call though, didn’t I?” Jude smiled hearing a slight giggle and hum from your end. His words hung in the air between you, the distance suddenly feeling more tangible. It was strange to be back in New York, in your own space, yet feeling like a part of you was still back in Madrid with him.

“I miss you too,” you admitted quietly, the truth of it all sinking in. Being back in the city was supposed to feel like coming home, but instead, it felt like you’d left a piece of yourself behind. Jude sat at the kitchen table in his house back in Madrid, staring blankly at the steaming cup of tea in front of him. The trip to Greece, followed by your stay in Spain, had left him with a whirlwind of emotions he hadn’t quite sorted out. He absentmindedly swirled the spoon in his tea, the clinking sound filling the silence of the room.

“Morning, hun,” Denise greeted him as she entered the kitchen with a warm smile, her eyes immediately landing on Jude. She reached out to squeeze his arm affectionately

“Morning, Mum,” Jude replied, still somewhat lost in his thoughts. He took a sip of his tea, hoping it would wake him up from the fog that had settled in his mind. Denise sat down across from him, a knowing look on her face. She had noticed how quiet Jude had been since you left for New York. It wasn’t like him to be this distracted, and she had a feeling she knew why.

“So, you had a good few weeks? Y/N is a lovely girl. I liked having her here. Hope you had fun.” she spoke casually, though there was a hint of curiosity in her voice.

“Yeah, it was all good. We had fun,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug trying to play it cool but he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips when he thought about your time together.

“So only good?” she pressed, her tone light but probing. “You’ve been awfully quiet since she left.”Denise raised an eyebrow at his lackluster response Jude shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not entirely sure how to articulate what he was feeling.

“Yeah, it’s just… you know, holiday thing,” he said vaguely, trying to brush it off. “Nothing serious.” Denise leaned back in her chair, studying him for a moment. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was trying to downplay what clearly meant a lot more to him.

“Jude,” she began gently, “is YN your girlfriend?” Denise asked cautiously but outright. Jude’s reaction was immediate.

“No!” he blurted out, perhaps a bit too quickly. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “No, she’s not my girlfriend. We’re just… having fun, you know?” He winced at what he had said. Denise nodded slowly, not entirely convinced by his casual dismissal.

“Just having fun, huh?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “Because from what I’ve seen, it seems like there’s more to it than just a bit of fun.” She sympathetically smiled at her son. She watched you two for a week and a half, hell the fact that Jude brought you home was enough for her to know there was more.

“Mum, it’s not like that,” he insisted, though even he wasn’t sure what “like that” meant. “It’s just… it’s complicated.” Jude shifted again, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation

“Complicated or not, you need to figure out what she means to you, Jude,” she said softly. Denise gave him another sympathetic smile, but there was a hint of frustration in her eyes. “You can’t keep her hanging on a thread because you’re afraid of what it might mean if you care about her.” She cooed. Jude felt a twinge of guilt at his mother’s words. He knew she was right, but the thought of defining what he and you were scared him.

“I don’t know, Mum,” he admitted, running a hand over his hair. “I don’t want to mess things up by making it more than it is. What if it’s just…” Jude sighed pausing not totally sure how to articulate what he wanted to say but Denise spoke first, filling the air.

“So, it's just sex, then?" she asked, her tone matter-of-fact. Denise, sensing his discomfort, filled in the silence. Jude immediately grimaced, recoiling at her bluntness.

"Mum, eugh," he muttered, his face scrunching up in embarrassment. It wasn't news to Denise that he was having sex—it was obvious, and they had an open relationship where they could talk about almost anything, sex included and they had but hearing her say it, especially about you, made him feel like a kid being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Jude, it's not a big deal. You're an adult, and I'm not naive. But it seems to me that it's more than just physical with her." Denise chuckled softly at his reaction, her smile warm but knowing. Jude shifted awkwardly. Jude had shared tidbits of his playboy lifestyle with her but only in doses never giving the full picture so it didn’t sound too promiscuous but for some reason Jude felt like it was more vulnerable to be seen falling for someone than to just be fucking them. Denise’s expression softened, but there was a firmness in her voice. “Hun, I know you’re scared of getting hurt or hurting her, but you can’t reduce what you two have to just… some holiday sex,” she said, the words almost sounding harsh as she repeated them. “You’re not being fair to her or yourself by dismissing it like that. You brought her home.” Even though Jude was thinking just that he didn’t like that she said it.

“I’m not dismissing it, I’m just… being realistic,” he argued, though his voice lacked conviction. Jude’s brows furrowed, defensive. He didn't want to admit to himself how deep his feelings for you really ran, let alone say it out loud to his mother. But how could he explain that to her without sounding like he was trying to convince himself?

“Realistic or not, it’s clear to anyone with eyes that you care about her,” she said gently. “And from what I can tell, she cares about you too. Don’t let fear of a label keep you from something that could be really special.” Denise sighed, leaning forward to rest her hand on his Jude stared down at his tea, Denise’s words sinking in. He couldn’t deny the way his heart ached when you weren't around, the way he missed your laughter, your smile, the way you made everything feel lighter and brighter. But at the same time, the idea of taking things further terrified him. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he ruined it? “Just be honest with yourself and with her,” she advised. Denise squeezed his hand, pulling him out of his thoughts. “That’s all you can do. Don’t let fear keep you from something you want.” Jude nodded slowly, the weight of his mother’s words settling on him. He knew she was right. He had to figure out what he wanted, and more importantly, he had to be brave enough to go after it, whatever “it” was.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, giving Denise a small smile. “Thanks, Mum.” Jude sheepishly got out feeling like a school boy all of a sudden who needed his mums help.

“Anytime, love,” she said. “Just remember, you deserve to be happy. And so does she.” Denise smiled back, her eyes soft with understanding

Your time apart from Jude was filled with a lot of nudes, a lot of dirty FaceTimes, and very little discussion about what the hell was going on between you too. Jude was sprawled out on his couch, his legs stretched across the cushions as he lazily scrolled through his phone. The house was quiet, the only sound coming from the occasional chirp of birds outside the window. Normally, he’d relish the peace after a grueling week of football, but today, something was off. He opened Instagram, mindlessly tapping through stories until he saw your name pop up. His heart gave a small, involuntary jump at the sight of your profile picture. He hadn’t physically seen you in a couple of days since you’d gone back home, and though he’d tried to shake it off, the distance between you was starting to weigh on him more than he’d expected. The story opened, and there you were, looking radiant as ever, your face slightly flushed from what he guessed was a drink or two. You were out at a bar, surrounded by friends, all laughter and carefree energy. The dim lights of the bar cast a warm glow over you, and the background music was just loud enough to drown out any coherent conversation. Jude watched as you tilted her head back, laughing at something off-camera, your eyes sparkling with a happiness that made his chest tighten. He should’ve been happy to see you enjoying yourself, to see you surrounded by friends and having a good time. But instead, a sharp, unexpected pang of jealousy twisted in his gut. It wasn’t anger—he knew you had every right to go out, to live your life—but something about seeing you there, in that atmosphere, without him, made him feel… possessive. Maybe this was ‘it.’ Maybe this is what his mum was talking about.

Because you didn’t really know where you stood with Jude, you found yourself in a confusing limbo when you returned to New York. The uncertainty gnawed at you—you weren’t sure if you were exclusive, or if you were still technically single. Deep down, you had no interest in other men, but the fear that Jude might move on the moment you left was hard to shake. To avoid overthinking, you decided to go out with some friends. You ended up tucked in a cozy corner of a bar, surrounded by some of your friends who just so happened to be gay men. You told yourself it was just by coincidence, but in reality, you knew it was because they were the only men you felt safe around—no expectations, no pressure, just a night out without the looming threat of complicated feelings. Jude hated how much seeing you with men bothered him. The men you were with couldn’t be less interested in pursuing you sexually but he didn’t know that. The logical part of his brain knew he was being ridiculous, that you were just out having fun. But another part of him, the part that was getting more and more difficult to ignore, wanted nothing more than to be there with you, to pull you close and remind you that you were his. Except, you were not.m and that almost bothered him more. The thought of some random guy chatting you up, making you laugh the way he did, sent a wave of frustration through him that he struggled to tamp down. Jude let out a low groan, running a hand over his hair as he tossed his phone onto the couch beside him. What the hell was happening to him? He’d never felt like this before—this desperate, almost embarrassing need to be close to someone. It was unsettling, and more than that, it was making him realize just how deep he was in. You had a hold on him that he hadn’t anticipated, and it was messing with his head in ways he hadn’t expected. He stared at the ceiling, trying to rationalize his feelings, but all he could think about was how much he wanted you back here with him. He’d never been the jealous type, never had to be. But with you, it was different. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else catching your attention, even for a second. He needed you, and the thought of you being so far away, living your life without him, was driving him crazy. Before he knew it, his phone was back in his hand, his fingers moving quickly as he opened the flight booking app. It was impulsive, maybe even a little reckless, but he didn’t care. He needed you here, in Spain, with him. He found a flight that left the next day, booked it, and without thinking twice, sent the confirmation details to you with a simple message.

‘Come back. I miss you.’

As soon as he hit send, he felt a mix of relief and anxiety. He didn’t know how you’d react—maybe you’d think he was being too much, maybe you’d laugh it off. But deep down, he hoped you felt the same way he did, that you were missing him just as much, that you wanted to be with him just as badly. The minutes ticked by slowly as he waited for your response, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes hoping you’d even be awake. Finally, his phone buzzed with your reply, and his heart leapt into his throat as he opened it.

‘ I miss you too. I’ll pack my bags xx’

A grin spread across Jude’s face, and the tension that had been knotting in his chest unraveled in an instant. He could already picture it—you walking through his front door, that smile on your face, the way you’d fit perfectly back in his arms. Yeah, maybe he was being a little overprotective, a little too eager to have you close. But he didn’t care. You were worth it. And he wasn’t going to let anything come between whatever was happening between you two, not even a little distance.

As you stepped off the plane in Mallorca, a wave of anticipation washed over you. You hadn’t seen Jude since your whirlwind holiday extension in Madrid and the thought of being with him again filled you with a mix of excitement and anxiety. His rather rash invitation purred on by jealousy for you to return to Spain consisted of you flying to Mallorca to go see his match there ahead of returning to Madrid with him. You were nervous but there was another reason for your unease—tonight upon your arrival you were meant to have dinner with his best friend, Toby. Your last interaction with him during the Greece trip had been brief, almost distant. He was polite, yes, but there was something in his demeanor that made you feel like he was holding back. It left you wondering whether he didn't like you, or if there was something else at play. The drive to your hotel from the airport was beautiful, the Mediterranean landscape stretching out under the setting sun, but you were too preoccupied to fully appreciate it. When you arrived at the hotel, Jude sent you a text because unfortunately you’d have to wait to see him until after his match tomorrow.

‘Toby's meeting you at the restaurant at 8. See you tomorrow, can't wait to kiss you.’

Jude's message was sweet, a reminder that he was thinking of you even amidst his hectic schedule. You appreciated it but the butterflies in your stomach refused to settle. Eight PM sharp, you walked into the restaurant wearing a silple YSL beige top, a pair of low rise red linen shorts, chunky black Gucci heels and a coordinated bag. Your eyes scanned the room until you found Toby seated at a corner table. He greeted you with a small smile and stood up, pulling out your chair for you. His manners were thoughtful. You sat down, giving him a polite smile in return, but inside, you felt a twinge of discomfort. The menu in front of you offered plenty of distractions, but you found it hard to focus on the words. Your mind was racing, filled with thoughts of how this evening would unfold. Toby ordered a bottle of wine, a Spanish red that the waiter described as ‘bold with a touch of spice.’ Normally you’d want to know more than that vagueness. The first few sips were a bit awkward, both of you sticking to safe topics like the weather and how lovely Mallorca was this time of year. Toby was polite, but his answers were short, almost clipped. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was an invisible wall between you two. It made you hesitant to open up, to be your usual self. But as the wine continued to flow, you started to notice a shift. The initial tension began to ease, and Toby started sharing funny anecdotes about his adventures with Jude. His eyes lit up as he recounted a particularly wild night out they had in Madrid, his laughter infectious. You found yourself genuinely laughing along. With each passing moment, you began to feel more at ease. The wine helped, but it was more than that. It was the realization that Toby wasn’t as standoffish as you’d initially thought. He was protective, sure, but as he let his guard down, you started to see the warmth beneath his exterior. He was someone who valued loyalty and friendship deeply, and it became clear that his initial distance had more to do with his protective instincts over Jude than any personal dislike of you.

"I have to admit," you began, swirling your wine glass, "I wasn’t sure how you felt about me when we first met. I got the impression you weren’t exactly my biggest fan." You took a chance, deciding to ask him about it directly. Toby looked at you, surprised for a moment, before his expression softened.

"It’s not that, really," he said, pausing to find the right words. "It’s just…Jude’s been through a lot, you know? And as his mate, I just want to make sure he’s with someone who’s good for him. Someone who’s in it for the right reasons." He explained. You nodded, understanding where he was coming from.

"I get that. And I appreciate it, actually. He means a lot to me too, more than I’ve probably let on." There was a moment of silence as Toby took this in. Then he smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. Dinner with Toby had started off better than expected. You were seated at a chic outdoor restaurant in Palma, the kind of place with white tablecloths, candlelight, and a view of the harbor that made everything feel a little more relaxed. The warm breeze carried the scent of saltwater and the distant hum of the city. Toby had been charming initially, offering compliments about how much Jude had mentioned you, and you began to think this evening might go smoothly. The conversation carried on with light topics—football, your recent travels, and even a bit of banter about the match Jude was set to play the next day. Toby seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, and the wine was flowing easily between you both. He was quick-witted, effortlessly funny, and you found yourself laughing more than you had expected. You began to let your guard down, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of a friendship. But then, the mood shifted.

“So, do you want to be a WAG because of Whitney?” The question was like a punch to the gut. Toby asked in a casual tone that didn’t match the weight of his words. Your stomach twisted as the phrase hung in the air between you, the atmosphere suddenly thick with tension. You hadn’t seen it coming, and your initial reaction was to gape at him, utterly thrown off. What had started as a pleasant evening suddenly felt like a test you hadn’t prepared for. You tried to answer quickly, stumbling over your words as you asserted,

“I mean I’m not Jude’s girlfriend and definitely not just someone trying to latch onto his lifestyle.” But as soon as the words left your mouth, you realized they sounded defensive, almost dismissive of Jude, as if you were trying to distance yourself from the very relationship you were defending. Toby’s brow furrowed slightly, his skepticism evident as he sipped his wine, studying you. Realizing you had inadvertently downplayed your feelings for Jude, you attempted to recover, but it only made things worse. You began to explain how much Jude meant to you, but the more you talked, the more it sounded like you were trying too hard, like you were selling something you weren’t even sure Toby wanted to buy. Each word seemed to dig you deeper into a hole, making you sound less like a genuine partner and more like someone trying to prove their worth. The conversation spiraled further out of control when you tried to pivot to something safer—your work. You thought talking about your career would help you regain some footing, but Toby was ready for you. With a hint of challenge in his voice, he started to compare his own journey, how he had built his business from scratch. His words carried a subtle jab, implying that whatever success you had achieved was simply handed to you. The insinuation stung, especially because you’d worked hard to establish yourself, but in that moment, Toby’s words made you feel small. You tried to counter, to explain how much effort you had put into your own career, but it felt futile. Toby was unrelenting, and every attempt you made to steer the conversation away from this uncomfortable territory was met with a calm but cutting remark. By the time the main course arrived, you were exhausted from trying to keep up, feeling more like you were under interrogation than enjoying dinner with someone who might become a friend. Despite the tension, you forced a smile onto your face, hoping to mask the unease that had settled in your chest. You could barely taste your food, too preoccupied with the feeling that you had failed some unspoken test. As Toby continued to chat, seemingly unfazed by the awkwardness he had caused, you nodded along, pretending to enjoy the evening. But inside, you were dreading the rest of the night. You weren’t sure how you were going to sit through 90 minutes at the match tomorrow, knowing that Toby might continue to dissect everything you said, looking for cracks in your armor. You only hoped that Jude wouldn’t pick up on your discomfort, though you knew it would be hard to hide how much this dinner had rattled you. At this point it was hard to even look forward to seeing Jude after his match. You could already picture the way his face would light up when he saw you, the way his arms would wrap around you, pulling you close. The thought made you smile but your earlier worries haunting every positive thought. The memory of the dinner still gnawed at you, the words he said lingering in your mind. It’s not that you didn’t understand why Toby would be protective of Jude; after all, they’ve known each other forever. But the insinuation, the way he asked if you were trying to be a WAG, felt like a punch to the gut. You didn’t want to just be seen as someone tagging along for the ride; you’re so much more than that.

The ride to the stadium was filled with light conversation. Toby talked about the match, mentioning that it should be a good one. You nodded, trying to focus on what he’s saying, but your mind kept drifting, wondering if Jude felt the same way Toby did. When you arrived at Son Moix, the energy was electric. Fans buzzing with excitement, and you could feel the anticipation in the air. You’d never been to a Madrid match before and the game itself is exhilarating. You loved watching Jude play; there was something mesmerizing about the way he moved on the field, so confident and in control. The crowd roared with each near miss. When Jude scored, your heart swelled a little with pride, and you couldn’t help but beam as you caught his eye from the stands. He winked in your direction, a small, private acknowledgement that made your cheeks flush.

After the match, you met Jude down inside the stadium hesitantly with Toby. He was waiting for you looking effortlessly handsome back in his tailored suit. His eyes lit up when he saw you though, and despite everything, your heart skipped a beat. Whilst Toby pressed to go out, Jude negated the idea claiming he was tired post match but settled for only dinner. Jude’s hand slipped into yours, a subtle but meaningful gesture that didn’t go unnoticed to you nor Toby. He was proud to have you by his side, and despite your earlier worries, it made you feel more secure.The drive to the restaurant was quiet for you, filled with conversation for Jude and Toby, the city lights blurring into a soft glow outside the car window. Jude’s hand rested on your thigh, his thumb drawing gentle circles that sent a shiver down your spine. When you finally reached the location, Jude held you close, his presence comforting and steady. It was a Mediterranean restaurant that was chic inside with low lighting and soft music playing in the background. It felt like the perfect setting to unwind after the adrenaline-filled game but also one you wanted to be alone with Jude in. Jude had made it very clear he wanted to go to this specific restaurant and you weren't sure why until you were seated.

“Good list, no?” He smirked whispering into your ear as his big hand squeezed your thigh. Your whole chest warmed as you inspected the menu. Your cheeks raised and there it was, your family's winery, a couple of bottles littered throughout the wine list. You blushed leaning into Jude.

“Wait, did you know?” You giggled just to him. He hummed kissing behind your ear. “Thank you, this was sweet.” You cooed with a pout. As you sat next to Jude, you couldn’t help but admire how at ease he seemed. He was still riding the high from the match, and it was fairly infectious. You tried to push away the nagging thoughts about Toby, focusing instead on the familiar wine and Jude’s easygoing banter. The conversation shifted to light topics, you were laughing, the earlier awkwardness dissipating. Jude’s mood was contagious, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence, grateful that you could with him. Despite the feeling of relaxation and flowing conversation, you were astutely aware you knew you needed to talk to him about your conversation with Toby. Even so, as the night went on, you couldn’t help but feel a deepening connection with Jude. There was something about the way he listened, the way he cared, that makes you feel truly seen and valued. And as you left the restaurant, his arm wrapped around your shoulder subconsciously, you knew that despite the challenges, it felt good to be with him.

Finally back at Jude’s the following evening, you and Jude sat outside. The soft glow of Madrid seeped into your evening enveloping you both, adding a warm intimacy to the night. The sushi you had ordered sat beautifully arranged on the table, a mix of vibrant colors and delicate textures. You reached for a piece, savoring the familiar taste of fresh fish and rice, all while enjoying the rare moment of quiet. Jude, on the other hand, seemed a bit out of his element.

"You know, I don’t have sushi that often," he admitted, almost sheepishly. He picked up a piece with his chopsticks clumsily, giving you a playful smile. You couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him.

"Really, Mr. World Traveler? All those Michelin-starred restaurants and yet sushi isn’t on your menu?" You grinned, leaning in a little closer. "I’m amazed. How is it that you, of all people, haven’t embraced the wonders of sushi?" You giggled, honestly it was just sweet he didn’t make a fuss before, letting you order what you wanted.

"Maybe I’m just not as cultured as you think I am. You still have to culture me, don’t forget." Jude chuckled, shaking his head before reminding you of a promise you’d made in Greece. You laughed along with him, but as the conversation flowed, your mind began to drift back to the dinner with Toby. The laughter faded as you remembered the awkwardness that had settled over that meal, the discomfort of feeling like you were being judged. You took a sip of your wine, trying to push the memory aside, but it lingered, nagging at you. At the match, you had managed to keep a smile on your face, cheering for Jude, hiding the unease that still bubbled beneath the surface. You wanted to support him, to show that everything was fine, but deep down, you knew now was probably the time that you needed to address what was bothering you. As you sat there with Jude, the intimacy of the moment gave you the courage you needed. You took a deep breath, setting down your chopsticks as you looked across the table at him.

"Jude," you began, your voice softer than usual, "I need to talk to you about something." He immediately picked up on your tone, his playful expression fading into one of concern.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes focused on you.

"When I had dinner with Toby, he asked me something... something that really kind of bothered me." You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. But you knew you had to say it.

"What did he say?" Jude’s brows furrowed in confusion.

"He asked if I was trying to be a ‘WAG,’ you know, like Whitney." You took another deep breath, feeling the tension in your chest tighten. Jude’s face went blank for a moment, processing your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to make sense of it. You expected anger, maybe even indignation on your behalf. But instead, his response caught you off guard.

"Toby’s just looking out for me," Jude said, his voice calm, almost understanding. "He’s my oldest friend. He knows how things can be in this world." His words hung in the air, heavy with implications. You stared at him, stunned, the weight of his response sinking in. He wasn’t angry at Toby. In fact, he seemed to understand why Toby had asked such a question. It felt like a betrayal, even though you knew it wasn’t meant to be.

"Looking out for you?" you repeated, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. "Jude, he basically accused me of being with you for the wrong reasons. Do you really think that’s fair?" You asked him.

"It’s not about being fair," he said finally, his gaze returning to yours. Jude sighed, running a hand over his head as he looked away for a moment, clearly torn. "Toby’s just protective. He’s seen people try to take advantage, and he doesn’t want that to happen to me." His words were meant to reassure you, but they only made you feel worse. It was as if your character was being questioned, as if Toby—and by extension, Jude—didn’t fully trust your intentions. You felt a lump forming in your throat, the hurt beginning to overwhelm you.

"I’m not some gold-digger. Frankly Jude, I really don’t need your money nor your status, you know." You said quietly, your voice shaking slightly but with some fire. "I care about you, Jude. I thought you knew that.. I thought it was..." You felt your heart break in an instant. You were going to say you thought it was mutual but the sentiment just wouldn’t come out. Instead Jude began to speak.

"I know that. I know you do," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I know you’re not like that. But Toby... he doesn’t know you like I do. He’s just being cautious." Jude’s expression softened, and he reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

"But it’s not just Toby," you replied, pulling your hand back, unable to hide your frustration. "It’s you too, Jude. You’re defending him. You’re acting like what he said is okay, but it’s not. It’s insulting." You quipped. Jude’s eyes flashed with emotion, and you could see that he was struggling to find the right words.

"I’m not saying it’s okay," he insisted. "I’m just saying that I understand why he would say it. He’s seen people with bad intentions before. He doesn’t want that to happen." The conversation was spiraling into a place you hadn’t expected it to go. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, the hurt and frustration bubbling over.

"So, what? You think I’m just here because of who you are? Because of what you think you can give me?" You coldly asked. Jude’s eyes widened in alarm, and he immediately shook his head.

"No, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I trust you, I do. But you have to understand, people in my world... they can be suspicious. They can be guarded." His attempt to explain only made you feel more isolated, more misunderstood.

"I don’t want to be seen that way, Jude. I don’t want to be with someone who thinks I have an ulterior motive." You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as you did. Jude looked up at you, his face filled with a mix of guilt and confusion.

"I don’t think that," he said softly, standing up as well. "I don’t want you to feel like this. I care about you, and I know you’re not with me for the wrong reasons." He sheepishly explained, overwhelmed by all the facts and emotions swirling in his head and he didn’t know which were right or wrong.

"But you didn’t defend me," you said, your voice breaking. "You didn’t stand up for me." Your voice quivered.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice full of regret. "I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. I just... I don’t know how to handle this." He stepped closer to you, reaching out to gently touch your arm. You looked up at him, the tears now threatening to spill over.

"This? You mean me? You need to figure out what you think then, Jude. I need you to be honest with yourself and decide what you think of me…not just because of who you are or what people think, but what you think." You told him outright. If you were putting yourself into uncomfortable territories for him, he had to at the very least meet you halfway.

"I know I like you," Jude’s eyes softened, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as he whispered into your hair. "I’m sorry if I made you doubt that. I’ll talk to Toby, okay? I’ll make sure he understands. I don’t want you to feel like this." You stayed in his embrace, letting the warmth of his body comfort you. The tension between you began to ease, but the hurt lingered. You knew it would take time to fully move past this, to really sort out what was going on between you two and how it just was so shaken. But in that moment, with Jude holding you close, you felt a small glimmer of hope that things would be okay.

The sun poured through the oversized windows of Jude’s Madrid home, casting a warm glow over the modern furnishings. You sat curled up on the edge of the couch, your gaze fixed on a Frieze magazine, though you weren’t really reading it. The argument from the night before still lingered in the air, creating an uncomfortable silence between you. You hadn’t fought like this before. Sure, there were disagreements and the occasional banter that could get a bit heated, but this had felt different—raw, unfiltered emotions bubbling to the surface, exposing the insecurities you both had been trying to keep at bay. Jude had a hard time fully wrapping his head around why you took such offense to Toby’s question but to you, it wasn’t nothing. It was a reminder of how fragile your situation was, how undefined and precarious your relationship felt despite how deeply you cared for each other or at least you cared about him and this amplified your questions about how important you were to him, were you ultimately just a holiday fuck?

Last night, you’d gone to bed without a word, turning your back to Jude, who had laid there in the dark, feeling the growing chasm between you. He wanted to reach out, to fix it, but pride and confusion had held him back. Now, the morning light only seemed to highlight the emotional distance, the words left unsaid building a wall between you. Jude left for training early, his departure marked by an awkward goodbye that didn’t involve your usual goodbye kiss or affectionate teasing. You had stayed behind, feeling both relieved and disappointed by the space. You didn’t want to talk, but you also didn’t want this silent treatment to stretch on or carry it home with you. As the hours passed, you found yourself thinking about all the little things—how Jude would usually text you from the dressing room, some silly message or a photo that made you laugh. But today, your phone stayed silent. The absence of those small gestures felt heavy, like a physical weight pressing down on you. You tried to distract yourself with anything you could—watching TV, flipping through social media, even cleaning up his wardrobe—but nothing could shake the sense of unease that had settled over you.

Jude wasn’t faring much better. On the pitch, his movements were mechanical, his usual flair and confidence dulled by the unresolved tension at home. His teammates noticed the difference, shooting him curious glances, but no one dared to ask. Jude was usually the life of a training session, but today he was quiet, barely engaging with the banter or jokes. His mind kept drifting back to you—how you’d barely looked at him this morning, how your usual warmth had been replaced by a cool detachment that made his stomach knot with worry. By lunch, it became unbearable. He found himself sitting alone in the cafeteria, pushing his food around his plate, unable to eat. His phone buzzed with a notification, but it wasn’t the one he wanted. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, frustration bubbling up inside him. He hated this feeling—this sense that he’d messed up but didn’t know how to fix it. After training, on Jude’s ride home from the training center his mind was racing. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but he knew he needed to make things right. He ended up stopping at a small flower shop he remembered. He picked up a massive bouquet of a myriad of green flowers, mostly hydrangeas though—your favorite. The shopkeeper wrapped them in delicate paper, adding a ribbon that matched the soft hue of the petals. Jude stared at the flowers, hoping they could somehow convey what he couldn’t seem to put into words. Before home, he made one more quick detour to Serrano, Madrid’s upscale shopping district. He remembered how you had gushed over a pair of Bottega Veneta heels you’d recently seen on Instagram, but you hadn’t bought them, saying you probably didn’t need another pair. Jude disagreed; he loved spoiling you, not just because he could, but because he wanted you to have everything and anything that made you happy. So he bought the emerald green strappy heeled sandals, picturing the look of surprise and delight on your face when you saw them. When Jude finally walked back into the house, it was late into the evening. You were back on the couch, though you’d switched from the magazine to your phone, scrolling absentmindedly. You glanced up as he entered, your expression unreadable. He held the bouquet and the gift bag a little awkwardly, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“Hey angel,” he started, his voice softer than usual. He walked over, holding out the flowers first. “I know last night ended a little rough… I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Your eyes flicked from the flowers to his face, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if you were going to accept them. His bottom lip rolled and it made you just want to undo it all. But then you sighed, putting down your phone and taking the bouquet from him.

“They’re beautiful,” you said, your tone no longer as distant. “Thank you.” The tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you breathed in the subtle scent of the flowers. Jude let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“I got you something else too,” he added, a hint of his usual playful charm returning. He sat down beside you, the shopping bag still in his hand. You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“What is it?” You asked, recognizing that Bottega green shopping bag with it’s signature triangle cut.

“Open it and see.” With a small smile, Jude handed you the bag. You pulled out a shoe box, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Jude, you didn’t have to…” you began, but your voice trailed off as you opened the box to see the pair of heels you’d been lusting over. “They’re perfect.” You cooed, running your fingers over the smooth leather.

“I just want you to know that I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to downplay how you felt. I get it now… I get why it hurt.” Jude reached out, his hand finding yours, your fingers intertwining. You looked up at him, your eyes softening as you saw the sincerity in his expression.

“It’s not just about what Toby said. It’s about us… I don’t want to feel like we’re just floating, you know? Like this thing between us doesn’t matter but if that’s the case for you, you need to tell me.” You shyly told him, leaning your head onto his shoulder beside you.

“It does matter,” Jude said quickly, his grip on your hand tightening. “It matters a lot. I know I don’t always say it, but I… I really care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.” He cooed. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time since the argument, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift.

“I care about you too, Jude. That’s why it hurt so much.” You squeezed his hand, your voice softening. He nodded.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I just… I don’t always know how to do this. But I’m trying, and I’m going to keep trying.” Jude spoke calmly and securely, his gaze never leaving yours. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You whispered an ‘okay,’ leaning in to close the distance between you. Jude met you halfway just like you’d hoped he would although this was a bit literal as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a kiss that held all the apologies and promises he hadn’t been able to say. When you finally pulled apart, the tension that had filled the house earlier was gone, replaced by a quiet understanding and the warmth of reconciliation. You spent the rest of the evening together, the argument fading into the background as you rediscovered the comfort of each other’s presence. You slipped on the Bottega heels, playfully showing them off to Jude, who couldn’t stop grinning at how perfect they looked on you. There were still things you needed to figure out, conversations you needed to have, but for now, you were content to just be with him, knowing that despite the challenges, you were both committed to at the very least hearing the other person out.

•

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 5 - Important to Me xx

[leiawritesstories]

PART NINE: SEPTEMBER

Word count: 10.7k

Warnings: *covers eyes* swearing, a shitload of scheming, Maeve being her usual self, police presence, angst, one NSFW scene, and um maybe some angst *runs away*

All my thanks to my lovely betas @mariaofdoranelle & @house-of-galathynius love you guys 🫶🫶

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Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin had felt ice prickling at her spine for a handful of weeks now, and as she walked into her office on the morning of September 6th, she knew it was time to put the contingency plans into motion. Ever since Arobynn’s demise, she had sensed that her Boss days were numbered, so she’d been working on a range of options for what she could do if—when—she was discovered. 

She almost couldn’t stomach the idea of letting her beloved company go, but it had to happen. 

Elide, Nehemia, Ansel, and Lysandra all came to her office at eleven, as she’d asked, each woman wearing an expression of a different level of confusion. 

“What’s up, boss lady?” Elide broke the film of tension as she sat down, fixing Aelin with a look that was equal parts concerned and hesitant. 

Aelin twisted her ring beneath the surface of her desk. “I asked if you would all meet me because I…because…” She pressed her lips together and took a deep, steadying breath. “Because there are some documents that I need you to sign.” 

“Why does this sound ominous?” Ansel’s eyes narrowed. 

“It’s a contingency,” Aelin admitted. 

“For what?” Her lawyer was nothing if not persistent and exacting. 

Pain wrinkled Aelin’s forehead. “For if—when—the law catches up to everything and everyone that I am.” Her words dropped like stones in the silence of her office. 

Lysandra’s brows crinkled in unspoken sympathy. “Will you tell us about this contingency before we have papers pushed at us?” 

Aelin cracked a half-grin. “It’s pretty simple, honestly. If I should be, shall we say, involved in a shockingly lurid criminal trial, I vacate the CEO position and completely step away from the company. Ells, you become CEO in my place. Lys, you assume the COO role. Ansel, you’ll probably be faced with the impossible task of defending my guilty ass, but you’ll retain your position here, and you’ll have full authority over the company’s finances.” She exhaled, twisting her ring around her middle finger. “Nehemia will remain in charge of the labs.” 

Elide curled her fingers around the edge of Aelin’s desk. “Why me?” 

“Because you’re not only the right woman for the job, you’re the perfect woman.” Aelin met her dear friend and lifelong business partner’s heavy gaze. “Ells, you’ve practically given your life to this company, and I trust you completely to guide us through whatever fallout happens when the law catches up to the Boss.” 

“You said when.” Lys broke in. 

Aelin nodded. 

Lys drummed her fingertips against her thigh. “Why did you say when?”

“Because I’m afraid it’s inevitable,” Aelin murmured. “I…something tells me that shit’s going to come crashing down. Soon.” A haunted look flickered through her eyes. 

Nehemia’s penetrating gaze fixed on Aelin for a long moment before she picked up a pen, pulled the stack of papers towards herself, and began working through the pages, signing where it indicated. The office was silent as the chief engineer worked, and when she finished, she simply laid down the pen, nudged the papers back to the middle of the table, and folded her hands. “I trust you, Ae,” she said. “I want to protect this place and these people too.” 

Unexpectedly, Aelin’s eyes watered. “I don’t deserve you, Nemi.” her voice cracked. 

“Nonsense.” Nehemia returned. “We’d all have left a very long time ago if we weren’t determined to keep Gal Inc alive and well.” 

Elide nodded as she picked up the contracts and the pen. “I second that.” 

The office was silent again as Elide worked through the papers, carefully reading each section before she signed and initialed the dotted lines. When she reached the final line, her hand faltered slightly, but she set her jaw and signed her name, accepting the role that she couldn’t help but feel would fall upon her before the end of the year. 

“Let me know when you want to talk about the transition,” she said quietly. Aelin’s eyes were glassy as she nodded. 

Surprisingly, Ansel was the next one to sign the papers, not really reading any of the text as she worked through the signatures. She had been the one to draw them up, albeit reluctantly and with a hell of a lot of questions about the motivation, when Aelin had come to her a few weeks ago. “I still don’t like the fatalism of all of this,” she remarked as she slid the stack of papers into the center of the table. “It feels…Ae, I’m going to be blunt here. This feels like you’re about to make some big, splashy statement to the press and bring down the cops and the TSF all over the place.” 

Aelin flinched. “No.” 

Ansel raised a brow. “No?” 

“No.” Emphatically, Aelin shook her head. “My goal with…with the Boss has always been to stick to the shadows. It wouldn’t make any sense to pull off some kind of grand reveal, which would just jeopardize the safety of these plans.” She tapped the stack of papers. “I have this sense that my days of hiding are almost over, but I’m not going to try and upstage the cops by revealing myself. When the law comes, I’m not going to hide from it. That’s all.” 

Elide weighed Aelin’s words, mulling over the phrasing. When the law comes. “Ae, do you…” She paused, the question hanging thick in her throat. “Do you think you know who’s going to put all the pieces together?” 

Thick, tense silence blanketed the room for a moment. Slowly, Aelin nodded, a jagged slice of grief flickering through her eyes before she shuttered it. “Yes.” The finality of the single word dropped like a stone into the air-conditioned silence of the conference room. She closed her eyes for a brief, steadying moment. “And knowing that he’s the best at his job and would always have figured it out won’t make it hurt any less.” 

Everyone in the room knew who she meant, knew why that grief had crossed her face. 

“Still feels an awful lot like doomsday,” Lys commented as she pulled the papers to her seat. She hesitated for a moment before she began reading and signing, stuffing down the bile that churned in her stomach as she signed the documents. Out of all of them, she was still the most closely linked to the Boss business, since she monitored the cameras around the Boss’s apartment and warehouses. She’d seen everything that happened when the TSF and PD went through Fenrys’s stakeout apartment. “But if you trust us, boss lady, then I trust you.” 

“Thank you,” Aelin rasped, reaching across the table to squeeze Lys’s hands. “Thank you.” 

By the end of the day, the documents were notarized and filed, ready to reshuffle the executive structure of Galathynius Inc. if anything should happen to its current CEO. 

When that something inevitably happened to its CEO.

~

“You needed me, ma’am?” Connall stepped into Maeve’s office, his eyes adjusting rapidly to the familiar darkness. He’d never understand why the hell she insisted on keeping her office so dark she could barely see five feet in front of her, but it was probably for the whole “Queen of the Night” aesthetic. 

“I did.” Maeve’s voice was as cool and controlled as ever, although as Con drew closer to her desk, he could see how her skin was paler than usual. “Connall, I suspect that I’m being poisoned.” 

He remained absolutely still, keeping his face neutral. “What do you need me to do?” 

A faint, insidious smile curled the corners of her scarlet lips. “Kill the kitchen staff and replace them. Get me the doctor for a diagnosis, and when he’s given it, kill him. Then, find the antidote.” 

Con nodded, a sharp dip of his chin. “Right away, ma’am.” 

Maeve smirked. “Good boy.” 

He was on his phone before he even left her office, calling the doctor who lived in the compound to get his ass to Maeve’s office. He let Maeve hear that brief conversation, because she needed the assurance that her closest, most loyal dog was doing her bidding. 

All of his carefully-laid plans would crumble if she turned on him. 

So Con headed down to the kitchens, patting the gun tucked into his hip holster and the assortment of tiny darts hidden in the pockets of his black jacket. He knew the handful of cooks and servers who were kept on staff to feed the Queen of the Night and her men, and he knew that the kitchen staff was aware that they could be killed at a moment’s notice. 

Not a single one of the twelve kitchen staff were surprised when Con strolled into the kitchen, locked the door, and sat down at the raised butcher-block counter, and placed a row of tiny darts in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

Jes, the current head chef, just removed their apron. “We all know you’re not a sadist,” they replied, calmly sitting down opposite him. 

Con’s throat tightened as he pulled a small, narrow copper tube out of his sleeve. “The least I can do is make it quick.” He’d had the darts specially designed to be surgically sharp and as small as possible, and they were one of his favorite ways to knock a target out cold. 

To knock them out, not to kill them. 

The drug contained in the darts put all twelve of the kitchen staff into a kind of comatose state that looked like death to an untrained eye, slowing their breathing and heart rate until it was just high enough to keep them alive but just low enough that a cursory inspection would assume they were dead. He hauled each one out the back door, loading their inert bodies into the back of the nondescript van that Maeve’s men used to dispose of bodies, and drove off the property. A quick glance in the mirrors showed a flicker of dark violet curtains in the upper hallway, the only sign that Maeve had been watching as he dragged the ostensibly dead kitchen staff out of the compound. 

Perfect. 

After dropping the slumbering staff off at the docks, where they were taken aboard a cargo ship that belonged to Kingsflame, Celaena Sardothien’s smuggling company, Con drove back to the compound and returned to Maeve’s office. He pushed open the door, blinked in the familiar shadowy gloom, and sighed as he nearly tripped over the corpse of the doctor. 

“Dry cleaning nearly had a fit the last time they had to wash blood out of your carpet, ma’am.” 

Maeve shrugged. “I wanted him to think he had a chance.” 

Con let out a snort. “I’m always in awe of your creativity.” He stopped in front of her desk. “What did he say?” 

“He suspects that it’s some kind of concentrated medication or steroid that’s damaging my internal organs,” Maeve said, oddly calm for someone who was being poisoned. “The suggested treatment is to consume a dose of activated charcoal, induce vomiting to see if it will purge any substance that hasn’t been absorbed, and immediately start NAC supplementation to counteract the poison.” 

Connall nodded tightly. “What do you need me to do, ma’am?” 

“Get me the things that the doctor mentioned.” Maeve’s cold, calculating expression swept over Connall. “Get the corpse off my floor, send the rug to dry cleaning, and then come find me. You know I like to reward my good boy.” Something almost like fondness passed over her face. 

“And if dry cleaning throws another fit about your rug?” The last time he’d taken Maeve’s run down to her preferred dry cleaners, they had all but thrown the damn thing at his face when he informed them that it was once again bloody and needed expedited cleaning. 

“I’m sure they can be adequately convinced,” Maeve drawled. “However, I have begun to tire of this old thing.” She scraped the toe of her crimson-bottomed stiletto heel across the rug. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too terrible to freshen up the tired old décor in here, if necessary.”

“Of course, ma’am.” With a dip of his head, Con left, dragging the doctor’s body behind him. Out in the hallway, he deposited the corpse in the large, unmarked chute that would send it down to be incinerated, frowned at the blood on his hands, and ducked into the closest bathroom to wash up before he left the compound again, heading to the nearest pharmacy. They had long since grown used to Maeve’s men barging into their storefront, and he had a hunch that she either paid off the pharmacists or planted one of her men in the place to make them more agreeable to her…needs. Or both.

He picked up the few things that Maeve needed, palming a vial of essential oil that he tucked into his sleeve as he strolled through the small pharmacy. Combined with the pennyroyal oil that he was already lacing into Maeve’s food, the rosemary oil would speed up the effects of the poisoning, making Maeve weaker by the day. 

Making it easier for when Celeana Sardothien led the Queen of the Night to her death.

~

Aelin rolled down her window as Rowan turned off the highway, letting the mid-September breeze brush through her hair as she inhaled the crisp scent of the leaves beginning to turn. She and Rowan had finally found a day where both of their calendars were clear, and he had wasted no time in planning this date. Don’t even think about accepting any calls, love, he’d teased as he picked her up from her apartment, a laugh sparkling behind his tired eyes. 

“First time you’ve seen sunshine in a while?” Rowan joked as he drove down the country road, flicking her a glance in the rearview mirror. 

Aelin poked his firm shoulder. “I have plenty of windows, love. I should ask you the same things, since apparently it’s a requirement at the police station not to have any windows, if the crime shows I watch are any indication.” 

He chuckled softly. “We have…uh, some windows.” 

“Liar.” A grin broke across her face. “We have to enjoy this last bit of good weather while we can, since I’ve heard we’re supposed to get a record cold winter this year.” 

“No,” Rowan groaned. He turned onto a secluded side road, heading east, towards the Oakwald Forest. The road was mostly gravel, so Aelin reluctantly closed her window. 

Her expression brightened as she realized where they were going. “You remembered,” she whispered, her throat unexpectedly tight. 

“Of course.” He reached over and laid his hand atop hers. A few weeks ago, Aelin had told him about the spot where her family always took picnics when she was a child. About an hour’s drive outside Orynth, the natural area that bordered the Oakwald had been one of her favorite places to explore. When she was little, she daydreamed about being a forest princess who could speak to the Little Fae Folk of the fairy tales. That daydream had faded as she grew up, but the place had remained one of her favorite spots to go when she was feeling overwhelmed. 

In fact, she’d been there just last week, right after she’d filed the contingency documents, and she’d stared out across Terrasen until the sunset faded into star-speckled darkness. 

Rowan pulled into the small parking lot, hopped out of his SUV, grabbed the picnic basket from the backseat, and hurried around to open Aelin’s door. He looped his arm around her waist as they walked down one of the trails, his warmth seeping into her skin. She stole the bag with the blankets from him and slipped her arm around his waist, flashing him a smirk. 

“I can’t let you carry everything,” she teased. 

He pretended to sigh. “It’s called being a gentleman, love.” 

“And I love you for that, but I’m an independent woman.” 

“You don’t have to be all full-on girlboss with me.” He kissed the top of her head. 

A tiny corner of her heart melted at the sincere softness of his words. “I know, but…it’s so hard to get away from that persona.” 

“I know.” His thumb rubbed against the curve of her hip. “I feel like I can’t ever turn off the investigator half of my brain. It’s always going, always trying to fit different puzzle pieces into different places, even when I’m sleeping.” 

“That sounds rather distracting,” she remarked. “For me, it’s all the contracts, all the deals, everything I’ve ever signed or shaken hands on. It’s the details and little clauses and wondering if I said the right words to the right people.” 

“Sounds noisy.” He stopped as they came to a spacious meadow at the top of a rise. “Looks like we’re here.” 

Aelin’s throat tightened again as she drank in the familiar view. “This is my favorite spot out here,” she murmured. “Thank you, my love.” 

“Anything for you, Fireheart.” Rowan tipped his head down and kissed her, slow and sweet. Then he swiped the blankets from her and shook them out before arranging them on the grass. He pulled out an impressive spread of food from the basket and set it all up nicely, turning to her with a big, dazzlingly proud grin. “Eat up.”

“What if I’m not hungry for food?” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, tracking the slow bob of Rowan’s throat as he swallowed. 

“You need real food first,” he rasped, hooded gaze trailing lazily down her throat. 

She sighed delicately as she sat down, plucked a pair of cherries out of the bowl, and stared straight into his eyes as she sucked both cherries into her mouth and bit into the perfectly sweet-tart fruit, spitting out the pits. “I’ve had real food now.” 

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, clearly fighting his urge to lunge across the blanket and claim her. “Aelin,” he half-groaned. “You’re driving me wild, Fireheart.” 

“You know I love to do that.” She smirked. 

Very slowly, he picked up a skewer of grilled chicken and bit into the meat, holding her gaze the whole time. “Eat your lunch, love.” 

Her smirk widened. “Enjoying your meat on a stick?” 

Skewer almost to his mouth, Rowan spluttered out a string of coughs, his cheeks blazing with a bright crimson flush. “Aelin!” 

She laughed, the gleefully bright sound echoing around the valley. “I couldn’t resist.” 

He wiped off the corner of his mouth. “My gods, I’m in love with a wild woman.” He graced her with a brief, wicked grin before he took a handful of cherries and ate them, licking the juice off his fingers at a borderline explicit pace. “Two can play this game, love.” 

“Oh, I do love a game,” she purred, picking up a skewer of chicken and dipping it into a small container of sauce. She lifted it to her lips and licked the sauce off of the meat, flicking her tongue against the first piece of chicken. “Delicious,” she hummed, her voice almost a moan. 

Rowan’s knee banged into the picnic basket as he shifted in his seat, brazenly adjusting his erection in his pants. Aelin swore she heard the faint clink of metal in the basket, but dismissed it as probably some extra silverware or something her overprepared boyfriend had packed. He always brought extra stuff whenever they had a date outside the city, something for which she always teased him. 

By the time they had finished lunch, Aelin knew her panties were ruined, and she was certain that Rowan’s dick was about to rip through his jeans. Still, he clung to his impressive control, carefully packing up the picnic and putting everything back into the basket. Aelin took advantage of the moment when his back was turned to lay down on the blankets with a contented hum. He laid down beside her, effortlessly tugging her into his arms so she laid atop his chest, and idly ran his fingers through her hair. 

“I used to dream about being a princess,” she said, finding herself content to just relax in his arms, the heat in her blood dimming to pleasant warmth. 

He chuckled softly, no doubt imagining little Aelin in her pink princess dress at a family picnic. “Did you?” 

“Yeah.” She smiled, the memory old but still vivid. “Little Aelin wanted so badly to run off into the Oakwald and find the Little Fae Folk. I probably read way too many fairy tales.” 

“And then you grew up and became a practical businesswoman,” Rowan teased. 

She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “You mean business princess.” 

His laughter cascaded over her like a summer shower. “I think little Aelin did read too many fairy tales, but it made her heart that much brighter.” 

“And it made me believe I’d one day find my true love.” She rolled onto her side so she could meet his eyes. “It took a while, but I did.” 

A suspiciously glassy gleam misted his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered. 

She cupped the side of his face, running her thumb over his jaw. “I love you too.” Her lips brushed his, her kiss gentle at first but quickly growing deeper, all the love she had for him poured out into the stroke of her tongue against his. 

They laid in each other’s arms until the sky began to darken, until Aelin shivered and Rowan helped her up and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders for the walk back to his car. As he loaded the picnic basket into the backseat, she heard that metallic clink again, and once again, she dismissed it as just the sound of the containers shifting against each other. She climbed into her seat, tucked the blanket around herself after she buckled her seatbelt, and kissed Rowan’s knuckles when he reached over to help adjust the blanket. She didn’t miss the soft, tender flicker of a smile that crossed his face. 

Aelin drifted into sleep as Rowan drove back into Orynth, only waking when he pulled into the parking garage of her building, stopped the car, and kissed her awake. She let him walk her back to her apartment and kissed him goodnight at her door, giving him a sleepy wave as he headed back down the hallway, his figure illuminated in the soft yellow lighting. 

She was snug in bed by the time he finally pulled out of the garage, having sat there in his car for a good half hour, head in his hands, agonizing over whether to pull the handcuffs he’d hidden in the picnic basket out and go back up to her apartment to face the inevitable arrest, or to just go home for the night and wait another few days before he had to arrest the love of his life. 

In the end, he drove away. 

He could delay the heartbreak for another few days. 

~

“You needed to see me, ma’am?” Connall assumed his usual stance in front of Maeve’s desk. 

Maeve nodded. “I have an assignment for you.” 

“Where?”

She slid him a single sheet of paper. “Sardothien has a warehouse near the docks where she holds her shipments before distribution. I need you to find out what’s currently there and what’s coming next.” Her orders were silky-smooth and firm, despite the tremble in her hands that she couldn’t quite conceal and the sunken circles beneath her eyes, obvious signs of her body weakening. 

Con glanced over the building’s details. “Looks like it’s got a few layers of security,” he observed in a neutral tone of voice. “How often does she visit it?” 

“Practically never.” Maeve scoffed. “Unlike a proper leader, she lets some underling run it.” 

“So it’ll be easy as fuck to break in,” Con remarked. He allowed a sharp-edged smirk to curl across his lips. “Damn, I was hoping for a challenge.” 

The Queen of the Night chuckled softly, a sinister rasp that would have been far more villainous if it hadn’t broken into a hoarse cough after two seconds. “I believe the interior will be the challenge you want, Connall. Sardothien allegedly posts a rotating guard at the place, and I haven’t yet determined how much of the building is patrolled or how extensively.” 

He grinned, his teeth a stark flash in the gloom of her office. “What should I do if I happen to run into the guard, ma’am?” 

“I suppose you’ll be forced to subdue him,” Maeve said calmly. She gave Con a small, chillingly ruthless smile. “I don’t foresee you having any difficulties with that.” 

“None at all, ma’am.” Con tucked the folded paper into the hidden pocket in his shirt, the same place where he kept the vials of Maeve’s poison. 

“I look forward to your discoveries, Connall. Dismissed.” 

Con bowed, turned sharply on his heel, and strode out of Maeve’s office. He returned to his room, where he laid out a small array of easily concealed weapons on his bed, took his Navy SEAL vest out of the closet, and began methodically loading each blade and dart into the multitude of slim pockets in the high-tech mesh material. He tucked a set of lockpicks into a front pocket, along with a generic employee ID card that Celaena’s tech guy—Nyx or Nox or something like that—had given him. The card would, in theory, work at the Boss’s properties. 

With his weapons and devices ready, Con pulled off his plain gray long-sleeve shirt, threw it into the laundry basket, and changed from his jeans into black tactical pants, which were reinforced with a layer of the same material that made up his vest. He pulled on his boots, laced them up, and then he reached into the back of the drawer where he kept his socks and retrieved a small, slender chrome tube. He uncapped it and removed a roll of sterile blue paper, which he carefully unrolled and laid flat on the bare top of his dresser. Also in the tube was a pair of long, narrow tweezers and a small silicone spatula that looked like a bakery dough scraper. He went and washed his hands in his sink, patted them dry, and then removed the tweezers from their plastic packaging and, slowly and carefully, peeled back the top layer of blue paper. 

Near-invisible atop the sterile paper laid a pristine pair of what looked like very, very, very thin, delicate latex gloves molded to the precise measurements of his hands. 

Put this onto your hands if you’re ever going into my property, Celaena had said. I can’t tell you much, but it will ensure that you leave no fingerprints. 

She’d called it “SecondSkin.”

Carefully, Con lifted the first glove, sliding the flat prongs of the tweezers between the layers that were almost too fine for him to see. He slipped his left hand into the glove, surprised at how the synthetic material didn’t cling to his skin like ordinary latex would. Once the glove was on all the way to his fingertips, he exchanged the tweezers for the scraper tool and pressed the synthetic against his skin in order to get every tiny centimeter flush against his skin. 

By the time he was finished, he couldn’t even tell there was something over his skin. 

He repeated the process with his right hand, carefully scraping every little bit of the synthetic material until it was molded seamlessly to his hands and wrists. Finished, he rolled the paper back up and tucked it and the tools back into the slender chrome tube, which he stashed back in his drawer. For good measure, he also put on a pair of flexible faux leather gloves, the same ones he wore whenever Maeve sent him out. He pulled on a close-fitting black thermal shirt, strapped on his vest, and tucked a black balaclava into his pocket. 

If he did run into anyone at the warehouse, it would be best if nobody saw his face. He wasn’t yet ready for the entire military of Terrasen to know that he wasn’t actually missing or dead in action, as they all believed him to be. 

It took roughly twenty minutes for Con to drive down to the edge of the industrial district, park his nondescript car innocently in a 24-hour grocery store parking lot, and weave through the dark, twisting tangle of alleys and unpaved roads that meandered through the district until he reached the Sardothien warehouse. He took a careful lap around the property, noting that the one guard posted by the west loading dock was apparently asleep on the job, and slipped around to the southeast doors. 

The employee ID card worked, and the little sensor by the door flashed green as the steel door unlocked with a clank. Con winced at the sound but darted inside and slowly eased the door shut behind himself. He waited a full two minutes before he moved, both to let his vision adjust to the shadowed gloom of the warehouse interior and to listen for sounds of any other presence. Finding the place mostly silent except for the gentle mechanical hum of the overhead fan system, he slunk around the perimeter of the space, heading for a set of steel stairs that went up to a mezzanine level positioned about halfway up the wall. 

A perfect height to observe the entire warehouse. 

The steel walkway spanned the whole south wall and curved around the east wall as well, but Con had his sights set on the single office built into the mezzanine. He was surprised to find the door unlocked, but as he entered, the apparent lack of security made perfect sense. Because there was a rather sophisticated security camera system arranged on one wall of the office, allowing him to look around the floor without having to walk all over the place and potentially disrupt the tidy stacks of crates and pallets that stood in orderly, numbered rows. 

It also required him to spend ten minutes editing the camera footage to wipe away his presence from four of the camera angles, but that was just the job. 

Having learned from the camera feed and the printout taped to another wall that the warehouse was currently mostly full of ammunition, Con left the office and stealthily paced the length of the mezzanine floor before he crept down the other set of stairs. He’d set the cameras up to run on a loop for the next hour, giving himself that time to have a good look around the place and get himself out. The stacks of pallets and crates cast overlapping shadows on the concrete floor, hiding Con from the handful of dimmed lights that gave some illumination to the empty space. He hadn’t yet seen or heard anyone else inside the building, so he assumed that the outside guard probably had a view of the security cameras. 

Not that it mattered, since the man was still sleeping soundly. 

Con wove through the neatly organized stacks, mentally noting how each was marked with a date of arrival and a date of distribution and the distribution dates were spaced out across the span of a week. It would apparently be a few days before they were sent out, since the first date was the 27th and it was currently only the 23rd. Aside from the efficient cataloging system, he didn’t really notice anything unusual or worth reporting, so he headed for the south door and let himself out. 

He was almost back in the safe cover of the warehouse’s shadows when he heard the faint but bone-chillingly recognizable scrape of footsteps. 

Shit. 

Con’s Navy SEAL instincts kicked in within split seconds, and he ducked around the closest corner of the warehouse, where a set of steel rungs bolted into the exterior wall led him up to the roof. He scaled the ladder in seconds and was crouched on the rooftop, mostly hidden in the deep shadows of the venting pipes, before he dared to look down at the ground. He tugged the balaclava over his head and tapped the special lenses that laid over his eyes, activating a highly secret and definitely experimental bit of vision-enhancing tech that allowed him to zoom in on the muscular male figure that was messing with the keypad of the south door. 

The man was slightly taller than Con and was also dressed in tactical black, but the Kevlar vest and flexible-soled boots he wore, paired with the obvious expertise of the way he disarmed the door’s safety features, identified him as TSF. 

Double shit. Just what Con needed—the goddamn Terrasen Special Forces on his ass. 

They aren’t on your ass yet, idiot, he snapped at himself. He kept his vision trained on the TSF man, watching as he opened the door, stepped back, and ran a slow, analytical, sweeping gaze over the loading docks and the property. Con instinctively sank deeper into the shadows, holding his breath as the man’s dark green gaze flicked briefly over the warehouse itself. But the man was apparently satisfied that he was alone, because he ducked into the warehouse and closed the door. 

Con tapped his lenses again, returning his vision to normal, and uncurled himself from his crouch. Slowly, keeping his boots silent against the roof, he swung himself around the pipes and slipped back down the ladder, barely breathing until he was back on the ground. He swept a look over the area, found it clear, and kept his tread as light as possible as he dashed towards the neighboring warehouse, which backed up into the headache-inducing tangle of the industrial district. 

He was four feet from safe cover when the Boss’s warehouse door banged open and the TSF man sent a knife whizzing past Con’s head. 

“STOP!” The barked command almost made Con’s own military training jerk him to an abrupt halt, but he ignored those instincts and instead took the last stride and a half into the shadows surrounding the closest warehouse building. The TSF soldier gave chase, and Con stifled a rather creative curse as he ducked around the corner of the building, found a ladder, and got himself onto the roof in under twenty seconds. Just in time for TSF Jackass to come into view and ah fuck. 

That was Lieutenant Rowan Whitethorn, who was currently part of a joint TSF and Orynth Police investigation into Celaena Sardothien. 

And also one of Fenrys's closest friends.

Don’t think, just move, idiot! Beyond thankful for the film of smoky fog that smeared the midnight sky over the industrial district, Con ran along the rooftop, his boots light as feathers atop the ridged metal plates, and launched himself across to the roof of a mossy brick building. He tucked and rolled, absorbing the impact of the landing, and kept going, darting from that rooftop across a series of other connected roofs. When he reached a brownstone building with a weathered tile roof, he crossed to the corner and swung himself down via the drainpipes. 

Tucked into a dark, cramped alley that reeked of soot and garbage, Con waited with held breath for the sound of pursuit. After three minutes, he deemed it safe enough and ducked out of the alley, hiding himself in the shadows of the industrial district’s disorganized sprawl as he wove the most confusing path possible back towards where he’d left his car. He paused every few blocks to make sure there was nobody behind him, unaware that he’d left his would-be pursuer in the dust back at the warehouse. 

And Rowan Whitethorn, who’d only just managed to pry his knife free from the steel wall that it had embedded into when it missed Con by an inch, grumbled under his breath about damned fucking criminals and returned to Sardothien’s warehouse to discover that it was full of neatly stacked crates of military-grade ammunition, all of them marked for distribution to decidedly non-military personnel. 

~

Rowan’s house was quiet, peacefully removed from the noise and lights and general clamor that made up downtown Orynth. As much as Aelin loved her downtown apartment, she was drawn to the illusion of isolation that her love’s house offered, an oasis of calm amid the noisy sea of city life. She’d only been there a few other times, scattered throughout the whirlwind blur of their months together, and most of those visits had been spent either in his bedroom or on the spacious covered patio, lost in a haze of love and desire and him. His home was large but cozy, its dark wood paneling, plaster walls, and mismatched furniture giving it a comfortable, lived-in ambience. The fireplace in the living room burned brightly, recently re-ignited as the cool nip of early fall began to descend over Orynth. 

Bourbon in hand, Rowan dropped into his comfortable armchair, legs automatically spreading into what she teased him was a typical man-pose. Aelin curled lazily on the couch opposite his armchair, tugging her sweater down so it artfully draped over her lean, muscled legs, hiding another lingerie set that would no doubt bring him to his knees, and set her mostly-full glass of wine down on the side table. 

“I’ve missed this.” Her soft, open look radiated with warmth and trust, and he was torn between the desire to bottle up that look and keep it forever and the fear that it was all a façade. “Just us, some drinks, and a snatch of time to breathe.” 

Despite the iron weighing down his blood, he smiled. “I’ve missed this too.” 

“When was the last time we got a whole night to ourselves, maybe May?” Her soft laughter warmed his numbing heart. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t backed me into the wall yet, Ro.” 

Fire sizzled down his spine, but Rowan calmly lifted his drink to his lips. “And what if I want you to be patient for me?” 

Aelin tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, hooded gaze tracking the thick bob of his throat as he swallowed another mouthful of bourbon. “Seems an awful lot like you’re sitting there and doing nothing, buzzard.” 

“Is that so?” With deliberate slowness, he set his drink down and uncrossed his legs. “Don’t give me ideas you don’t want me to have, darling.” How can I not want you? His internal echo was desperate, aching, filled with the emotion he stifled. One last time.

“Who said anything about not wanting you?” 

“Not me.” The humidity of the room seemed to be increasing with every whispered word and hitch of breath. 

“Good.” Languidly, she stood and stretched her arms over her head, sliding off her oversized sweater in the process. “Because I don’t wear gold for just anybody, Lieutenant Whitethorn.” 

“What did I say about using my name, Aelin?” Warning crept into his words. 

“I might need a reminder…Rowan.” She strolled across the plush carpet of his living room until she was inches away from where he sat. “And you need to stop brooding about your work.” 

He sighed. “I’m not brooding.” He knew full well that he was—he couldn’t help it. Work currently meant the sudden, jarring end of their relationship, and he still questioned if he had the strength to do that. To either of them. 

She snorted. “Look in a mirror and tell yourself that, if you can.” 

“What have we discussed about the sass, love?” Abruptly, he rose to his feet and wrapped one strong arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. 

Her lips dropped into a soft O of surprise. “That it’s–hmmm.” Before she could properly answer, he kissed her, slowly at first and then deeper, more urging. 

“Fine,” he murmured, pulling just an inch away. “Maybe I’m brooding. I’m sure you can help me forget why, though.” I wish I could forget why, he added, silently. Deep down, he wished she could erase that part of his mind—the part that knew this was the last time. 

“I’m sure I can.” She looped her arms around his neck, the lace of her delicate lingerie brushing his bare chest, and pressed her lips to his, her kiss soft, sensual, tender. “I love you, Ro,” she breathed against his lips. 

If only you did, his heart screamed. But he threaded his fingers into her hair and slid his tongue between her lips, losing himself in her kiss. “I love you too, Fireheart,” he whispered, his words thick. He slid his free hand down and lifted her into his arms, and her legs wrapped easily, fluidly, naturally around his waist, her panties notched against the fabric of his trousers. In a rushed, heated blur, they were in his bedroom, Aelin’s back flush against his sheets as he kissed her harder, toying with the string of her panties. Lingerie that was his favorite shade of gold. 

She gasped, a soft whine breaking from her lips as he brushed his thumb a fraction away from her clit. “Rowan, please.” 

“So good for me,” he smirked, though the words nearly killed him to utter. So good. Ironic, when the woman sprawled beneath his touch was anything but good. He shook his head, shoving those thoughts aside for the moment. 

One more night. They could have one more night. 

Always so clever, Aelin’s fingers flicked open the clasp of his trousers, and the tailored material pooled around his ankles. “Good girl,” he purred into her ear as he kicked off his pants, relishing the quiet moan his Fireheart let out at the praise. 

“My gods,” Aelin rasped as Rowan stripped off his boxers. “I could never get used to the sight of you, love.” Her eyes were bright as she watched him, her figure a vision in scraps of gold sprawled upon his bed. 

“Likewise.” He pounced, ripping those tiny golden panties right down the seam, and she’d barely gasped in shock before his tongue was on her cunt. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, swiping his tongue in a long, lazy stroke, “so ready for me.” Her fingers knotted into his hair as he licked her, swirling his tongue indolently around her clit, and she released a garbled string of moans that could have been his name. He just smirked, his gaze lifting to sear into hers, as he devoured her, loving how quickly his love turned wordless and needy for him. Only for him. 

“Rowan!” Aelin screamed as she came, her hips thrashing against his face, and she rode out the waves of her orgasm along his tongue and fingers, calming just in time for him to lift his glistening jaw, swipe a long, slow touch through her pussy, and kiss a deliciously indecent path from her cunt up to her throat, removing the lacy bra as he went. 

When his lips claimed hers again, the taste of her thick and heady on his lips, she locked her leg around his and smoothly flipped them, landing him on his back with her astride him. One-armed, he pushed himself into a seated position, wrapped her hair around his fist, and tipped her head backwards, kissing her hard and sinful, a promise wrapped into the curling strokes of his tongue. 

“Yes,” she breathed against his lips, her hand sliding down to wrap around his cock. Her grip was dangerously close to perfection, and she stroked the length of his dick with just enough pressure to ignite his blood. Her nails scraped lightly along the underside of his cock, and he groaned, pinching her tight little nipples in return. She smirked and tightened her grip, squeezing and twisting her wrist. 

“Fireheart,” he growled, far too close to begging as she shot him a devious, cunning smirk and shifted just far back enough to lower her head, pressing kisses down his throat, his chest, his tattoo before he lifted her head back up. “N-not this time.” His words were shaky, uneven, laden with the urgency of his need to be fully inside of her and the weight of his knowledge that this was the last time. “I need you.”

She pushed herself back up, tracing the script of his tattoo. “I need you too,” she admitted, a gleam of vulnerability flickering briefly through her heated gaze. 

Not trusting himself to reply, Rowan just kissed her neck, flicking his tongue along the tender spot he knew could make her tremble. “Ready, love?” 

“Always.” Fuck, the word drove a knife straight through his fragile heart. 

He lifted her hips up, and she positioned herself just right before she sat down, sliding onto his steel-hard dick, and both groaned at the utterly perfect sensation. Aelin’s head arched back with pleasure, but Rowan tipped her chin forwards, kissing her deep and slow as he rocked against her. She broke the kiss to drop her head to his shoulder, laying kisses and tiny bites on his tattoos, and he brushed her hair over her shoulder so he could drag his hands down her dragon tattoo, feeling the seemingly delicate ridges of her spine and the solid firmness of the muscle lining her back. The dragon on her spine coiled and shifted with the pattern of his thrusts, its flames almost alive, if only for an illusory moment. 

The kiss he laid atop those flames was both a claiming of her whole self as his and a final confirmation that the flames licking out of the dragon’s screaming maw matched the one image he’d caught of Celaena Sardothien. Gently, in stark contrast to the roughness of his thrusts, he kissed those inked flames. 

A gesture of farewell. 

Aelin choked out his name as she flew closer and closer to orgasm, and Rowan breathed hers as he drove his pace faster, pushing them both into silent, unending bliss. He held her close as she came down, as the shaking of her body calmed, as his movements beside hers slowed. Carefully, he lifted them off the bed, not pulling out until they were in the shower, Aelin languid and relaxed as he lathered her lavender body wash over her skin. 

He carried her sleepy form back to bed and tucked her between the sheets, then slipped into bed behind her, curling into her warmth as he’d grown so used to doing. His breathing deepened with hers as she fell into dreams, and he kissed her forehead, tucking her soft hair away from her face. 

Aelin slumbered peacefully beside Rowan, her golden hair strewn messily over his pillows. Her face tucked downwards, the hint of tension that always lined it softened with sleep, and the moonlight that slanted through his bedroom window cast the splattering of freckles on her cheeks in pale silver. She looked so vulnerable there, asleep in his bed, so soft and sweet. But he knew full well what lurked under that innocent face—a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. 

The jarring juxtaposition of images haunted his restless sleep. 

~

Aelin blinked awake to moody gray light filtering in through Rowan’s curtains, the sky dimmed by a thick blanket of clouds that promised rain. She stretched, feeling the delicious ache in her body, and rolled out of bed, throwing on one of Rowan’s worn old t-shirts before she went into the master bathroom to brush her teeth and do her morning skincare. She came back out to get dressed, changing into the clean trousers and silk blouse that she’d brought, and went back to put on makeup and brush out her hair. She tied the golden waves into a thick braid, put in a pair of pearl drop earrings, and paused to check for stray hairs or mascara smudges before she left the bathroom. 

The scent of fresh coffee floated down the hallway, and she smiled. Rowan had probably been up for at least a couple of hours, enough time to get in his morning run and brew fresh coffee before she even dragged herself out of bed. She followed that enticing scent out into the kitchen, rose onto her tiptoes to get a mug from the cabinet, and turned around with a smile that instantly froze. 

Because Rowan’s gun was trained on her. 

Handcuffs dangled from his tattooed hand, glinting in the kitchen lighting. His voice shook and his eyes were shattered pools of tormented grief, but his aim was rock-solid and locked between her eyes as he said, “Celaena Sardothien, you are under arrest for more crimes than I can possibly enumerate.”

She simply, slowly, raised her arms and placed her hands in the air in front of her. “There’s no need for the gun, Lieutenant Whitethorn. I am not going to resist.” 

“Put down the mug and bring your hands back up,” Rowan commanded. The coldness in his voice was one hundred percent TSF. 

Aelin obeyed. 

Rowan holstered his gun—the safety had been on the whole time—stepped forwards, and locked the cuffs around Aelin’s wrists. He didn’t speak, but the pain carved into his features spoke louder, screamed louder, than any words ever could. Betrayal, regret, and a thousand other emotions flickered across his face, but he locked his jaw, guided her hands down, and turned her so her back was against the kitchen counter. 

“I loved you,” he breathed, hoarsely. “I loved you so goddamn much, Aelin Galathynius.” He refused to let the tears glossing his eyes fall. “Why?” 

The past tense—loved—drove an iron spike through her heart. Tears of her own sprang to her eyes, and she didn’t have the strength to keep them from falling. She looked into Rowan’s gaze, meeting the eyes that seared her soul, and stayed silent. 

No words could ever describe what she felt for him. 

He breathed deeply, steeling himself, and she watched as the investigator’s mask descended back upon his face. “I’m going to go collect your things. Don’t move.” Abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, his boots thudding hollowly on the hardwood floors. He returned a few moments later with her purse and work tote slung over his arm. “Everything’s here. Let’s go.” 

She followed him out to his TSF-logoed vehicle, grateful that his home was secluded enough from the city that there weren’t any neighbors around to snatch photos of the CEO of Galathynius, Inc. being escorted to a TSF car in handcuffs at seven in the morning. She could deal with her arrest—hell, she’d been planning to be arrested for months. She couldn’t deal with the media storm until it became unavoidable. 

Ever a gentleman, Rowan opened the passenger door, helped her up into the seat, got her buckled, and set her bags at her feet. He closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, and he only spared her a glance after he was on the road, driving towards the city. “I’m not going to hold any of your things for inspection.” 

Aelin nodded. “Thank you.” The first words she’d spoken since acquiescing to her arrest. 

His jaw ticked, a clear sign that he had questions begging to be released. “Why…” He took a sharp breath. “How are you so calm right now?” 

“This was inevitable,” she replied, masking the quiver of her shattering heart with her cool, professional, CEO voice. “Lieutenant, you’re the best in the TSF for a reason. I knew as soon as you were assigned to the investigation that you would discover me. I suppose I’m both surprised and grateful that it took you this long.” 

“Grateful?” 

She turned her head, staring out the window to avoid his penetrating gaze. “For…for you.” 

They were silent for the rest of the drive. 

When they arrived at Orynth PD, Rowan pulled around to the private parking lot, parked, and helped Aelin out of the car. To her surprise, he unlocked the handcuffs and removed them from her wrists, but he replaced them with a single black cuff around her left wrist. She glanced at the smooth silicone and instantly recognized it as an alternative, more technologically advanced, version of an ankle monitor. Her team had spent over a year developing it before they sold it to Orynth PD, and the irony of her own damn tech being used on her was almost enough to make her laugh. 

It was called a Wyrd cuff.

“Come with me.” Rowan led Aelin into the building through a side door, escorting her past a row of offices and down some hallways until they reached his office. He opened the door for her, drew the blinds over the window, and stepped back out of the office. He locked the door from the outside. 

“Fucking hell,” she heard him whisper, a faint, broken rasp, before he collected himself and strode off down the hall. He was back in a couple of minutes with at least three others, judging from their silhouettes in the hallway, and she listened as best as she could to the rumble of their conversation. 

“B-but we can’t just toss her in jail!” That sounded like a younger voice, probably a junior cop. 

“What choice do we have?” Rowan. “She’s been arrested.” 

“She’s probably able to post bail and just leave,” the younger man argued. “I bet she’s filthy rich from all the exports she does.” So Rowan hadn’t revealed who Celaena Sardothien really was. Interesting. 

The voices continued in a hushed flurry, and Aelin was only able to pick up scraps from their conversation. There were four of them—Rowan, the younger one, a middle-aged one, and one about Rowan’s age, and each of them seemed to have a different opinion on what to do with the highly dangerous criminal currently locked in Lieutenant Whitethorn’s office. 

Rowan grunted with frustration, and Aelin’s ears honed in on his voice. “There’s also the fact that the goddamn media will be up our ass as soon as they find out who she is.” 

“A murderer?” That was the older one. 

“Not just a murderer,” the younger one piped up. “A crime boss.” 

“A criminal.” 

“A killer.”

“Someone who knew exactly what she was doing.”

“A mastermind.” That one made her smile. 

“And one of the most famous women in Orynth.” That was Rowan, and her blood chilled at the resignation in his words. He raised his voice. “Sardothien, open the blinds.” 

With a deep, steadying exhale, Aelin pulled up the blinds on the office door. 

Three absolutely stunned faces stared back at her. 

The younger cop pointed a shaky finger at her through the glass. “Th-th-that…that’s Aelin Galathynius, sir.” 

“Alias Celaena Sardothien,” Rowan said. 

Unable to resist the opportunity, Aelin gave the cops a little finger wave and a wicked little grin.

The young one, whose wild, curly hair matched his goggle-eyed shock, gaped openly at her with wide, deep brown eyes. “I…we thought they were two people.” He ran his fingers through his frizzy curls, astonished. “Holy shit, sir! She’s had us fooled for gods know how long.” 

Rowan’s jaw was set in a tense line. “Thank you for your astute observation, Luca,” he ground out, flicking Aelin a bare hint of a glance before he turned his irritation onto the young cop. 

Luca shrugged, totally unfazed by Rowan’s famously icy attitude. “Is it too much to ask for an autograph?” he quipped, muffling what was probably a shit-eating grin. 

The older cop pressed his hands to his eyes in fatherly exasperation. “What have we discussed about not pushing Lieutenant Whitethorn’s buttons, Luca?” 

“Sorry, Brullo.” Luca didn’t appear particularly sorry—he looked like he had both the means and the camaraderie to needle Rowan incessantly. A small part of Aelin’s heart was deeply glad that Rowan had found that kind of friendship with a few of the cops. 

“Everyone out.” Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t know why I even bothered to ask for anyone’s opinion if the only thing you were going to do was stare googly-eyed at the most infamous crime boss in Orynth.” His tone was authoritative, but edged with a faint undertone of humor. 

“I wouldn’t call her the most infamous,” Brullo commented. “What about the Queen of the Night?” Luca snickered. 

“That bitch,” Aelin muttered, turning away from the cops, wrath flickering briefly across her face before she smoothed her expression back into careful neutrality. It wasn’t the right time for the police to find out that she knew something about Maeve the Fucking Bitch Queen. 

“Good god,” Rowan mumbled. “Alright, here’s what’s happening, since apparently I have to do everything around here.” He waited for the others to quiet down before he continued. “I’m calling the TSF. Yes, I know this is a joint case, and it was me who brought Sardothien in, so I get to decide who’s gonna keep an eye on her while she awaits trial.” 

“Actually, I was just about to ask if TSF was going to get involved again,” Luca said. 

“Good.” Rowan tipped his chin at the other cops. “You can go, then. I’ll make the call.” As the other cops headed away, he pivoted slowly towards his office, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders before he unlocked the door and came in. 

“Luca seems like a bright kid,” Aelin remarked, casually. 

Rowan paused next to his desk, posture stiff. “If that’s a threat…” The coldness of his voice cut Aelin through to the bone, but she heard the protectiveness hidden beneath the ice. 

“It’s completely genuine,” she said softly. “I only threaten the kind of scum that deserves it,” she added, letting some of the Boss’s notorious darkness edge her words. 

“And the list of your kills will prove it.” He picked up his phone, clearly unwilling to speak with her any longer before he contacted the TSF. Aelin relaxed herself in her chair as he spoke on the phone, his words terse and clipped. 

“Whitethorn.” A short pause. “Yes, I have her in custody. She’s fitted with a Wyrd cuff.” Another brief silence. “I understand that, sir, but with all due respect, I don’t really think prison is the right move. We’ve seen how effortlessly she was able to pull Allsbrook, and my instincts tell me that it’d be better to have her in TSF custody.” A longer pause, during which he pinched the bridge of his nose, indicating his muffled frustration. “Yes, but still. We can’t take that risk now that we finally—fine. Yes, sir.” He hung up with a click and braced his hands on his desk.

“Allow me to reiterate that I am not going to resist, Lieutenant.” Aelin broke the thick silence. “I gave you my word.”

Rowan was quiet for a handful of seconds before he turned to face her. “I believe you. Gods only know why, but I’ll take your word. So. TSF is sending a squad to escort you to your home, where you will be placed on house arrest. There will be a special forces guard assigned to your door as well as a pair of soldiers stationed in the lobby of your building lest you try to stage an escape.” 

“Should I expect a guard in my home?” 

He shook his head. “No. At this time, we don’t believe that an in-home monitor is necessary, particularly because you’re wearing a Wyrd cuff. The device is similar to an ankle monitor, but—” 

“But lighter-weight, much better protected against involuntary removal, and specially outfitted with tracking and monitoring technology that connects via satellite receiver to the person or people who placed and activated the device. Additionally, once placed, the Wyrd cuff can only be removed by the person who closed and locked it, as it has both fingerprint and DNA sensor locks to ensure that the criminal is unable to remove it. Despite these features, the Wyrd cuff is currently the most humane piece of monitoring technology.” Aelin lifted her chin, professional smile tugging at her lips. “The Wyrd cuff was developed and sold exclusively to Orynth PD by Galathynius, Inc.” 

“I…ah, I was unaware.” An uncharacteristic flush dusted Rowan’s cheeks. “It’s an impressive piece of engineering.” 

“And I’m glad to see that it’s being used precisely as we hoped it would be.” 

Rowan looked like he was on the verge of saying something else, but he was interrupted by a rapid knock on his door. Luca stuck his head into the office. “TSF is here, sir.” 

“Thanks, Luca.” Rowan stood up. “Ae—Sardothien, you ready?” 

Aelin swallowed the tears that sprang up at Rowan’s use of her alias. “I am.” She allowed him to lead her out of his office and down the rows of hallways into the bullpen, his hand just barely touching her back as if he was hiding his lingering desire to touch her one last time behind the pretense of keeping a safeguard on the dangerous criminal. 

“Luca, where the hell are the TSF?” 

“Right—” 

Commander Gavriel Ashryver strode into the room…and jerked to an abrupt halt as he took in the sight of his niece in a Wyrd cuff. 

“Um, here, sir,” Luca finished, sheepish. “I tried to time their arrival into the bullpen with yours.” 

Gav hadn’t moved a muscle. His keen, assessing gaze swept over Aelin, who was the portrait of neutral professionalism with her tote slung over her shoulder, and Rowan, who stood stiff-backed and tense at her side with a stony mask over his features. Six TSF soldiers were arranged in neat pairs behind Gav, having stumbled but rearranged to a military stop when their commander unexpectedly halted. 

“Aelin?” Gav whispered, half incredulous. The shock in his voice stabbed Aelin right in the heart. 

She nodded. “As well as Celaena Sardothien.” She felt more than saw the collective gasp of astonishment that rippled through the bullpen as she confirmed her double identity. 

Ever the master of soldierly stoicism, Gav came forwards and settled one protective hand around her elbow. “I’ll take it from here, Whitethorn. Good work.” He escorted Aelin forwards, and the other soldiers promptly stepped out of the way and re-formed themselves into a short column behind Gav and Aelin as they went out to the waiting TSF vehicles. “She’s with me,” was all that Gav said as he helped her into his black SUV, its tinted windows able to obscure her from sight. The other soldiers climbed into the TSF-logoed van beside Gav’s car, and they drove away together. 

As they navigated the crush of downtown Orynth during the morning commuter hours, Gav flicked Aelin a look in the rearview mirror, his glance laden with heavy sorrow. “I didn’t want to believe it was you, Aelin.” 

She met his sorrow with resignation. “We both knew my crimes would catch up with me someday, Gav. Thank you for protecting me while you could.” 

He nodded, a tight dip of his head. “How bad is the media going to get?” 

“Awful, once the news drops. I’m hoping it won’t break until I go to court, but I’m afraid PD will want to inform the whole world that they caught the Shadow Assassin.” 

“Leave that to me.” 

Aelin’s throat tightened for the thousandth time that morning. “I can’t ask you to keep shielding me, Gav.” 

Her uncle reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m not keeping you unknown, Aelin. I’m simply making sure that my men aren’t stormed by rabid paparazzi.” 

She huffed a soft wisp of a laugh. “Thank you.” 

The rest of the drive passed in silence, and Gav was able to get Aelin as well as the three TSF men assigned to guard her into the building and up to her apartment without attracting much notice. Her apartment building catered primarily to wealthy executives, so private security guards were a common sight, and nobody paid much attention to her new patrol. 

Alone in her apartment, Aelin set down her tote, stepped out of her heels, and walked quietly to her bedroom, heading through the cozy space into the master bathroom. She closed and locked the door behind herself and, suddenly, she slumped to the floor, her body curling into a protective ball. Head in her hands, Aelin Galathynius loosed the tears that she’d been holding at bay all morning, wracked with grief not at her arrest, but at the heartbreak that accompanied it. She cried for herself, for the woman that Rowan’s love had allowed her to become.

And she cried for the lost dream of the future she would never have with him.

~~~

TAGS:

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[shade-pup-cub]

Febuwhump 2024, Day 5: Legend & Warriors - Rope Burns

Fandom: LOZ/Linked Universe

With memories haunting his dreams, Legend goes for a needed walk that leads him to the ocean. His Mer curse was wanting to be used, but when Warriors comes looking for him, it isn't only Legend who has eyes on the Captain. Sirens lurked just under the surface.

CW: slight blood, minor injuries, mild language (its Legend... its gonna happen)

Just like the rest of the Chain, Legend had secrets. They had only recently found out about Wolfie being Twilight, though he already knew. Only Twilight and Sky knew of his pink rabbit form, but no one knew of the curse laid on him and it was itching to be used.

He kept away from water for a reason, grumbling every time someone splashed him. It wasn’t what he turned into that he hated, it was the transformation part itself. It was painful in a way that only the Old Man and Twilight would understand.

They had once again landed in another unknown era between heroes and they guessed this one was right after the flood that Wind talked about since there seemed to only be clusters of islands all around, no civilization to be seen.

Legend had woken from his restless sleep that was filled with dreams of a girl with red hair and a voice that was so sweet. There was no going back to sleep when she showed up in his dreams, so he stood quietly to make his way to the person on watch.

Warriors gave a small smile as he approached. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope. I’m going to go for a walk, clear my head.”

The Captain’s brow furrowed with worry at that. “Need some company? My shift ends in less than an hour.”

“I’m a big boy, Cap. I can handle a simple walk by myself.”

“Legend.”

“Warriors.”

“If you aren’t back in an hour, I’m going to come looking for you.”

Legend waved him off as he made his way through the entanglement of bodies that were still asleep.

Wind was Starfished partly on Sky, who was smiling in his sleep, Sail Cloth tucked under his chin. Four and Hyrule were still back to back where Legend had left them. He had been on the other side of Hyrule to make sure the young teen knew that he was safe as he slept.

On the other side of camp, Time was laid on his back, Wild under his right arm and the blue tunic secured in his fist. Twilight- Wolfie at the moment- was draped over Wild’s legs and hip. The group had found out the hard way that Wild sleepwalks and he had gotten into some dangerous situations while doing so. Thus Twilight and Time made it their duty to keep him where he slept.

Legend fondly shook his head, though he would never admit to caring about this group of crazy heroes. Caring meant attachment. Attachment meant parting. Parting meant pain. Legend had too much of that in his life already, he didn’t want it with his companions.

Breaking through the treeline he took a deep breath of the salt in the air. The sand was not normal to him or the others since it was black sand and when it was stepped on near the water, it glowed in blue and purples with micro life. Where there was such beauty, there was always danger.

He walked the shore, past a few rock formations that stuck out into the water. He chose to go further down the coast where a cavern was visible due to the low tide. Looking around one more time to make sure no one had followed him, he took off his tunic, cap and boots, leaving him in his shorts. The water was warm to his surprise and he allowed himself to enjoy it, a purr like humm leaving his chest.

With some hesitation, he sat in the deepest part of the water that still hid him behind the rocks. He bit the inside of his palm when the curse took hold. The transformation of two legs becoming one tail and fins was the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. Bones were broken and reformed, scales grew out of the thick skin. Gills formed and opened up along his ribs while his hands became webbed. His eyes were a bit fogged from the protective film over them, but it would clear when he went under water.

Everything about him was dramatic and beautiful. The gold and pinks with an accent of black shimmered in the water and he admired his long flowy tail once the pain subsided.

Not even thinking about how long he had been gone, he froze in fear when he heard Warriors calling out his name.

“Legend? Leg?”

He sat up in the water that came up to his chest, debating on swimming a little ways out or crawling back onto the sand. Going back on to the sand would give him his legs back, but with the cost of a pain. No doubt Warriors would hear that.

“Vet, where did you go?” Warriors was getting too close.

There was a splash in the water that caught Legend’s attention since there hadn’t been any disturbances since he left camp. It clearly held Warriors attention too as Legend peeked around the rocks to see what it was. Warriors walked out to the tip of the rock formation, peering into the water curiously as he went to one knee.

Black, long, silky hair was seen first, then the pale skin. The voice of the person was hypnotic and loring as they sang. A hand from under the water came up to touch Warriors cheek, brushing hair back from his eyes.

‘How is it that everywhere we go, this dumb Pretty Boy attracts-’ Legend cut off his thoughts. That wasn’t just a woman in the water…

“WARS, NO!” Legend hollered out to warn the other, but Warriors was too far gone into the spell of the Siren that now had her lips to the Captains.

Effortlessly, Wars was pulled into the rising water by slender arms around his neck and Legend knew how these things ended. He wasn’t going to let one of his bro- fellow heroes be another victim to the creatures lurking below.

He pushed off the rocks to get into deeper water, wishing he had done it sooner or just agreed to the company in the first place so this would have been prevented. Submerged fully, he kicked his tail to propel him to the depths where Warriors was being dragged down to. The fact that there were six Sirens all twirling around Wars didn’t falter him and neither did the fang filled mouths or the hisses that greeted him.

Two of the Sirens, each carrying a single head spear, screeched in a high frequency before moving in to attack the invading hero. Weaponless, Legend dove deeper, hoping to swim under all the action before rocketing up, snatching Warriors and getting the hell out of the infested waters. Of course that is not what happened.

Instead, a spear was launched towards him at frightening speed, clipping his side. Red mixed with blue water, but he didn’t have time to think about it as the Siren who cut him was gaining on him. He looked to the spear that was sticking up from the sand below. Legend raced for it, gills rapidly drawing in water for the oxygen needed.

Both hands gripping the thick spear, he spun around, swiping the first monster away. The second one didn’t have time to slow down and he used that to his advantage. He thrusted the spear upwards, impaling the second Siren through the chest.

The first one grabbed the end of the spear, then Legend’s arm. He gave a swift punch to the nose and used his tail to batter it away. His spear thoroughly stuck, he tried to pry the dying Siren’s weapon from its hand with no luck. Gnashing teen headed for his neck, he pivoted the spear he was still fighting for to the side, catching the original bastard like he had with the other.

A split second thought of twisted humor came to mind, ‘Looks like Wild’s fish skewers.’ The sound of clicks and whistles brought him back to reality though.

There were four more of those monsters swirling around Warriors as he stayed under their charm, all trying to get him to their nest, wherever that was. Legend was going to have to play this carefully. Sirens needed a fresh kill to feed off of and every time they kissed Wars, it was a breath of air to his lungs and caused him to be paralyzed by the spell. Take that away at the wrong time and he was going to drown.

Stick to the plan.

Legend used the ocean’s sandy floor for cover, stirring it up into a murky mess. He pushed off the sandy floor, dodging the Sirens and grabbed Warriors under his arms. He could see the light from the moon dancing on the surface of the water, heart hopeful that he was about to breach with the Captain in tow.

Claws dug into the meat of his tail, opening it up some for the salt water to pour into. He screamed and wished he could join the bubbles upwards that left him. Another set of claws grabbed his largest fin, slicing it into two sections. That would cause a problem with swimming.

The other two Sirens had swam above the heroes and Legend looked around for anything of use. He should have thought about it sooner, but he hadn’t. Warriors never went anywhere without his sword that was currently strapped to his back. Legend pulled it and tried to push the Captain out of harm's way towards the surface. A part of him almost begged that one of the Sirens would take him again if it meant he was given air. And one of them did.

Sword in hand, Legend curled back downwards and the blade caught the nearest Siren across the face, making it bellow in pain, but also made it let go. One attacked from behind, jolting him forward and it latched its teeth onto his shoulder like the Zoras in his era always tried to do when he got near or in the rivers. He angled the sword over his shoulder, praying he didn’t stab himself as he thrusted the sword through the Siren’s skull.

The one that he got across the face was back with two ropes in hand, one tossed to the one Siren that wasn’t “attending” to Warriors, who hadn’t moved a muscle in nearly ten minutes. Dodging the attempts to be roped, Legend kept charging the two creatures. When he would, that one would flee, the other rounding around his backside.

He lunged one more time, sword oh so close to evening the numbers, but he had gotten ahead of himself. The one behind him slammed into his back and wrapped its rope around his hips, pulling it tight before getting out of range of the sword that whipped around.

Legend roared in anger, eyes locking with the monster in front of him. He raised the sword up to cut the rope, but he dropped it due to the second rope wrapping around his throat. His hands automatically went to grapple with the newest one as he began being pulled backwards away from Warriors. He could still breath nearly perfectly with the ropes where they were since his gills weren’t interfered with, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable or difficult.

A flash of blue in the corner of his vision and he saw the lone Siren pulling Warriors into the darkness of the ocean. Panic and determination swirled in his veins, pumping adrenaline through him. He pulled against his foes with no care to the ropes digging into his skin, making it raw. He could care later for the rope burns, they had stocked up on poisons before the last portal appeared. He could care for all of his injuries once Warriors was back on dry land and these things were killed for targeting him in the first place.

The ropes were pulled taunt, now cutting deep into his skin to the point that he was sure that his skin would break and bleed. He still didn’t care, he needed to get to Wars, but the more he fought the further that seemed to get. He reached one last time towards the fading image of blue and tan, but it disappeared. Desperately he pulled more, black dots filling the outer parts of his vision.

He finally let his body go limp, giving the rope some slack. He floated there for a moment, bringing back his sight and oxygen rich blood to his brain. Though he floated, he never let go of the rope that was in his left hand at his neck. He kept his eyes mostly closed as the Sirens swam closer, most likely seeing if he was still alive.

A shadow passed over him, halting in front of his face and a clawed cold hand tilted his head from side to side. A few clicks that were moving away told him it was time. He moved quickly to wrap the ropes in both hands as he looped the section between his hands around the leaving Siren’s neck. His gills were on his ribs, but theirs were right below their ears, allowing him to effectively strangulate the monster.

Legend was pulled through the water as the Siren thrashed to get free. It tried to plow him into the underwater rock formations, drag him through the sand to disorient him, but he was relentless on his hold and his mission to get Warriors back. Who knew what was happening to him.

‘Oh look, sword!’ he thought as he was dragged across the sand next to it. Reaching a hand out he gripped the hilt, running the blade clean through between the shoulder blades in front of him. He never liked stabbing anything in the back, but Warriors was about to be out of time.

Getting a good breath in, sword still in hand, he followed the trail of bubbles, sand and the hint of blood. In this form, he was able to track the blood trail no matter how diluted it was. There was only one issue, his tail fins had holes torn into them from the fight. This was going to slow him down, reducing the clock for Wars even more.

“Fuck it!” Legend hollered at himself. He had been through worse, dealt with worse and made it, damn it! This was not going to cost a person's life. No matter how annoying and egotistical and stubborn Warriors was because Legend deep down cared and loved each and every one of those dumbass heroes that he has been so lucky to call his brothers!

He moved through the water like an apex predator hunting down its prey. He took in the scent of the blood trail through his gills, turning right, then left, diving under the reef's arch, another left then dove deeper down to where the water was darkest. There the nest laid and Warriors was about to be the sacrifice.

With rage and no plan, he pushed himself harder than ever, gaining speeds and ground. Seeing the one he had fought earlier protecting the other who was still dragging Warriors, Legend didn’t waste a second thought on barreling into it. The Siren seemed surprised by this and moved to get away, but Legend had no mercy to give it as he pierced the monster in the upper gut, knowing that was a slow way to go.

The final one that had taken part in the attack on the Captain looked back at him and dumped Warriors. Legend smirked, but it didn’t last long as he saw Warriors begin to wake from his spell. Legend swam to him, covering his mouth and nose so he wouldn’t take in water.

Wars first reaction was to fight, but Legend didn’t let go. “Hey, Cap, it’s me. It’s Legend. You’re safe now, but I need to get you to the surface. Do you understand?”

Warriors looked him over and nodded.

“Hang on to me.” After sheathing the borrowed sword, Legend gave him what would normally be a hug, letting the others arms go around his neck. Warriors could swim, but not as fast as Legend even with a damaged tail. He kept in the hiss from the tunic Warriors worn rubbing up against the damaged skin from the rope.

He made the turns to get back to where he had been, but with Warriors, who was bigger than him normally, he was weighed down. His muscles burned from the exertion to save the others' life before he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. That was approaching quickly as Warriors audibly struggled with spasming lungs that were in dire need of air.

“Hold on! We are almost there!”

Warriors let out a stream of bubbles and went limp in his arms, eyes rolling back.

“Cap? Stay with me!”

Seeing the moonlight on the water, Legend kicked his tail back and forth as hard as he could, begging for it to be enough. Breaching the surface, Legend turned Warriors still limp body around so they were back to chest. He looked for land, smiling from ear to ear when he recognized the island they had been on, fire in the distance. They had drifted a small distance closer than this nightmare had started.

Legend kept both arms around Warriors chest, only using his tail to make it to shore. The panic had truly set in as Warriors head lulled to the side, but not into the water speeding past them. Legend cupped the other man’s chin, redirecting it so he could breathe, only Warriors wasn’t breathing.

The landscape and the water no longer held the same beauty, nor did it call to Legend in the way it had when the curse was itching to be used. It was only hidden dangers that he couldn’t see.

The sharp rocks met him first, cutting his skin as the waves of high tide pushed and pulled them against the rocks. He struggled to keep Wars head up as another wave crashed over them, then threatened to rip the Captain from him. It was like the ocean was helping the Sirens to bring the nearly lost soul back to them.

He firmly gripped a rock that was almost out of arm's reach and used the incoming wave to surge them both forward. He tried to ignore the all-consuming pain as he pulled him and Wars up onto the sand, last rock carving a wound through his left set of gills, but he couldn’t as a scream was torn from his throat, tears falling from his eyes without permission to do so.

They finally made it to the shore, to the warm sand that changed colors when touched. To the sand that was now packing into his bleeding flesh. He let out another holler as he gave a last effort to pull Warriors up next to him. He placed a hand over Warriors mouth and nose-

“Cap?” Legend’s throat was raw and hoarse. He laid his head on the other’s chest to listen for any sign of life. Nothing. “Warriors, buddy, I need you to breathe.” He raked his knuckles over the too still of a sternum, trying to stimulate him to breathe.

“Shit. Shit! ” He hit Wars chest, nothing. Camp was in earshot surely and if he remembered correctly, Twilight was on third shift. “Help! Someone help!”

Legend would have done CPR, but he was beyond exhausted, unable to get up onto his hand and would be knees and still had too much water covering him to transform back. Though it was a curse, it was still magic. Magic that would drain him fully and not be able to call to anyone that was looking for them if he went back to his normal form, so he kept hit against Warriors chest over and over again, begging him out loud to wake up.

He didn’t hesitate to blow air into the others airways as he grew desperate. He would never forgive himself if Warriors died because of some dumb secret that the others wouldn’t have minded. He was just too stubborn and untrusting, yet Warriors had shown him full trust since the beginning.

Another breath.

Hit to the chest.

Another struggling breath.

Weaker hit to the chest. Legend was fading.

Warriors coughed, spewing water from his mouth. Legend let out a relieved sob, rolling Warriors to his side as best as he could.

In the distance were two figures that Legend could just make out as Wolfie and Time. “Over here!!” He felt the adrenaline dropping, darkness calling to him. He let out a soft, “Over here…”, placing a protective arm over Wars, then drifted to the sound of the waves and the warmth of the sand.

They were safe. Him and his brother were safe.

[jenyifer]

Nick’s favorite Pixar Film is inside out to the point where he was trying to get closer to Sand by discussing it and his username on Twitter is BingBong_NC

Now you might say okay? This matters because? Well I was once a person who wanted to work at Pixar before my Professor crushed my hopes and dreams. I assume Nick has a dream of working for Pixar or a company like it with his computer animation degree. He is SERIOUS when talking to Sand about this. It would be like Sand trying to engage Nick in convo about his favorite band. It’s personal and meaningful. I could go on for weeks about my personal favorite Pixar Film the Wall-E. BUT We are talking about Nick and Inside Out. Allow me a Pixar Disney enthusiast take the wheel. Inside Out is directed by Peter Docter and his films tend to have an introspective philosophical lens. I’m talking about movies like Soul, Up, & Inside Out. The story is about Riley going through emotional upheaval and how that is effected by her internal emotions. When we apply this to Nick’s personality things get interesting. I think Nick looks below the surface when it comes to people in general. He and Sand are both incredibly empathic people which is why they get along so well. Of course a story about hidden emotions would fascinate him because he wants to understand others on that level. I also think Nick hides his own emotions for the most part. J-Hope from BTS also has Inside Out as his favorite film and…. If you know him he has an outer happy persona he puts on to protect his brothers and ARMY. I think Nick does the same thing outwardly when he’s incredibly happy. Go watch his scenes with Dan and Sand. He tries to be a ball of sunshine and light even if that’s not what he’s internally feeling. Nick loves hiding who he is hence the makeovers. Nick probably likes BingBong because he’s had to give up lots of things while changing himself for whatever makeover person he thinks will impress others.

This is in contrast to the scenes we see of Nick with Boston. When they are together Nick melts his emotions written large on his expressive face. In the first episodes we do see him try to present his happy no worries persona to Boston but He’s called out on it and I think he stops trying to be anyone else with Boston.

[dojae-huh]

Why do you feel like doyoung's annoying? I already watched that episode but I feel like on the surface level, lee dong's the more annoying one? I dont know why we read it so differently hahaha. Could you elaborate why you think that way? I also think both taeyong and jaehyun are pushovers loll like in daily activites, not on major life decisions ofc

Haechan is an annoying person, many neos told us this. However, it is a tool for him, he uses any means to attract attention. As a child with abandonment issues, it is a normal way to cope. It is also was a protective mechanism, a shield, probably. Attack first. And, of course, now it is part of his entertainment repertoir as an idol. The older Hyuk becomes, the more he shows his serious side. He is actually more on a calm side, he is an observer and can demonstrate patience. I think the way he can pair with Taeil so well for creative work is a reflection of that. As well as the way he dresses for himself (old professor type, heh), and how he interacts with the fans, his attitude to his own career.

Doyoung is annoying by nature, he was a noisy kid who didn't want to sit down, a menace to teachers. He said he joined clubs and student counsils because he was bored. He needs to be busy non-stop. With him it is the other way around: life taught him to hide this side of him, to be more pleasant, more pleasing. We are used to seeing Doyoung in Parent role, when he focuses on someone else, channels his energy into a single beam, so to speak. When he on his own, when he puts himself first, his energy is scattered in a chaotic way around him. I always compare Doyoung's brain to a beehive. Now imagine this hive buzzing and bees flying around it. This is the image of "annoying" Do gives. He can sting at any moment.

2Dong's Mokchu was Haechan's idea. In the 0 episode Doyoung played the supporting role. He praised Hyuk for his wit, he accepted Hyuk's greeting ideas, he didn't try to be main MC, he let Hyuk lead. 2Dongs had a good rapport, everything progressed smoothly (and the editing helped). This is why you didn't read anything as annoying. On the whole it wasn't.

However, they filmed late at night, Doyoung was tired and hungry, he was in the company of his bestie and managers he knows well, he allowed himself to relax and partially shed the idol persona. He was himself more than we usually see.

Doyoung micromanages, interrupts, gets distracted, argues, challenges your opinions, teases, makes jabs at you, gets amuzed at your expense and laughs every other minute. People like Haechan, Jaehyun or Taeyong can deal with it. People like sensitive vulnarable Yuta or seeking peace and calm Taeil can get overwhelmed and annoyed.

I think I can use the adjective "abrasive"? Doyoung is not agressive, he is just noisy, reactive, demanding. I'm not saying it in a negative way. I'm just pointing out that the real him is not for everyone to be comfortable with.

Take the moment with Doyoung interrogating the male manager why he didn't like the restaurant Do recommended to him (You didn't like my choice? Dare to explain why?). Do was so into getting the answer out of the man, he stopped listening to Haechan and paying attention to the task at hand (shooting the programme). And later was like "Eh, I wasn't listening. Repeat what you said?" to Hyuk, heh.

[lyncotek]

Vinyl wraps have emerged as a powerful tool for businesses looking to maximize their Return on Investment (ROI). In today’s competitive market, companies are constantly seeking innovative ways to attract customers and stand out from the crowd. Vinyl wraps offer a cost-effective and highly customizable solution that can significantly impact a business’s bottom line. From vehicles to storefronts, vinyl wraps provide a versatile marketing platform that can drive business growth in various industries.

Understanding Vinyl Wraps What are Vinyl Wraps? Vinyl wraps are adhesive-backed films that can be applied to surfaces such as vehicles, windows, walls, and floors. They come in a variety of colors, textures, and finishes, allowing for endless design possibilities. How Do Vinyl Wraps Work? Vinyl wraps adhere to surfaces using pressure-sensitive adhesive, providing a seamless and durable finish. They can be easily applied and removed without damaging the underlying surface, making them ideal for temporary promotions or long-term branding.

Benefits of Vinyl Wraps for Business Growth Increased Brand Visibility Vinyl wraps serve as dynamic mobile billboards, transforming vehicles into attention-grabbing advertisements capable of reaching a broad audience. Whether navigating the highway or parked amidst the hustle and bustle of an urban environment, wrapped vehicles effectively capture attention and enhance brand visibility.

Versatility and Customization Options for full wraps, partial wraps, or decals are available, allowing vinyl wraps to be tailored to fit any brand or marketing campaign.. From bold graphics to subtle branding, their unique identity and messaging can be reflected by businesses tailoring their vinyl wraps.

How to Maximize ROI with Vinyl Wraps Define Your Objectives Before investing in vinyl wraps, clearly define your marketing objectives and target audience. Whether aiming to increase brand awareness, drive foot traffic, or promote a specific product, align your vinyl wrap strategy with your overall business goals.

Design for Impact Create eye-catching designs that capture attention and communicate your brand message effectively. Incorporate bold colors, striking imagery, and clear messaging to ensure your vinyl wraps leave a lasting impression on viewers.

Choose High-Quality Materials Invest in high-quality vinyl materials and professional installation to ensure longevity and durability. Cheap materials or improper installation can result in premature wear and damage, negating the benefits of your investment.

Measure and Analyze Results Track the performance of your vinyl wrap campaigns using metrics such as brand impressions, website traffic, and sales conversions. The data needs to be analyzed to determine which strategies are effective and where adjustments might be necessary to maximize ROI.

Stay Consistent and Refresh Regularly Maintain a consistent brand identity across all vinyl wrap designs and marketing materials to build brand recognition and trust. Refresh your designs periodically to keep them relevant and engaging, ensuring continued impact and effectiveness.

Conclusion Vinyl wraps offer a cost-effective and versatile solution for businesses looking to maximize their ROI and drive business growth. By leveraging the benefits of vinyl wraps, companies can increase brand visibility, target specific demographics, and protect their assets while achieving measurable results. With careful planning, creative design, and strategic implementation, vinyl wraps can become a powerful tool in your marketing arsenal, delivering long-term value and sustainable growth for your business.

FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions) How long do vinyl wraps last? Vinyl wraps can last anywhere from three to seven years, depending on factors such as material quality, installation technique, and environmental conditions.

Can vinyl wraps be removed without damaging the underlying surface? Yes, vinyl wraps can be safely removed without leaving residue or damaging the surface underneath, making them ideal for temporary promotions or lease vehicles.

Are vinyl wraps suitable for all types of vehicles? A versatile marketing solution is provided by vinyl wraps for businesses of all sizes, which can be applied to almost any vehicle, including cars, trucks, vans, buses, boats, and motorcycles.

Can vinyl wraps be customized to match my brand identity? Yes, vinyl wraps can be fully customized with your brand colors, logo, and messaging to create a cohesive and impactful marketing presence.

How much does it cost to wrap a vehicle or storefront with vinyl? The cost of vinyl wraps varies depending on factors such as size, complexity of design, and material quality. It is best to consult with a professional installer for a customized quote based on your specific needs.

[outlandishscenarios]

Potential keychains and prints to sale

Hello everyone

I'm making this post in the likelihood I can't get this issue resolved or not. I recently had some of my art work made into keychains and printed as print and have received them. There's more then I had expected and nothing to do with the extras I have. I have considered trying to sell them but here's the thing. One set of my keychains are misprints and done incorrectly and any amount of contacting the company since the 29th of April has gone unheard. I have tried again today and still waiting on an answer. If I don't hear anything from them the next couple of days, I have decided to ask if any one would be interested or consider buying some keychains from the extras to the misprinted ones. I would try to sell prints and keychains at a hopefully acceptable price while the misprint keychains at a discounted price since their again misprinted. I wanted to know if this was something doable as I never done this before and don't have anything good enough for it. I ask this cause I have far to much then I had originally wanted or room for in storage and felt the good ones would go to waste in a storage box inside a closet. Below the cut would be pictures of the prints and keychains with descriptions of what would be put on sale if any interest does arise.

Baby Ruin Eclipse Keychain:

Baby ruin eclipse is a 3 inch double sided keychain with front holographic broken glass effect with iridescent holder.

Print:

Instructions Not Included Eclipse and Little Moon

The print is a A5 (14.8 x 21 cm) with holographic film. The print itself is a slightly water resistance surface and inconspicuous to scratches.

Misprints:

Baby Sun:

baby sun is similar to baby ruin eclipse in size and effect. He is 3 inches with front holographic and gold star holder. As you can see there's been a print of baby moon right sandwich between both pictures.

Baby Moon:

Baby moon is the same as the sun and eclipse. 3 inches with broken glass holographic effect and gold star holder. Just like with sun there's been a misprint where sun is right between both sides and a ray peeking out from behind him.

Limited quantity amount of merch would go up for sale. Every keychain has a protective film that would need to be removed when you receive it to get the glossy look and would be shipped in a bubble mailer. Every print sale would come in a stiff mailer during shipping. All sales would be through Kofi.

[rachelkaser]

Masonry Monday: The Case of the Fancy Figures

A business consultancy's comptroller was wrongfully convicted of embezzlement a year ago. His wife approaches Perry Mason when potentially exonerating evidence surfaces, but then he's accused of an even more serious crime: The murder of the man who framed him for the original embezzlement charge.

Who's Who

Perry Mason's client: Martin Ellis, a wrongfully convicted man who's back in the slammer in record time

The victim: Charles Brewster, an embezzler whose crimes aren't quite catching up with him fast enough

Suspects: Carolyn Ellis, the suspect's wife, who fights to get him released when his innocence is proven beyond doubt Jonathan Hyett, one of Brewster's partners, who wants to protect his business and daughter Richard Hyett, the other partner, who's more willing to back off when Brewster tries to threaten them Valerie Brewster, Brewster's alcoholic wife, whom he suspects of undermining him to her father Victor Squires, the bonding company who posts Brewster's bail, fully expecting him to try and skip town

The Setup

It's the Hyett Building, in the offices of business management counselors Hyett, Brewster & Hyett. The two Hyetts, father Jonathan and son Richard, lament the crimes of their partner, Charles Brewster. Brewster arrives and the Hyetts confront him with doctored books -- he's been embezzling from them. Hyett Sr is furious that an innocent man, one Martin Ellis, is serving time for Brewster's crime. Brewster has a trump card, though -- he's married to Valerie, Hyett Sr's daughter.

Brewster tells them to get rid of the books and tears them up. Later, Brewster arrives home to his wife, Valerie Hyett Brewster, drinking herself into a stupor. Brewster accuses her of sending photostats of the evidence to her father, which Valerie tries to deny. Meanwhile, at an apartment complex, Carolyn Ellis receives a small package. Inside is a reel of film and a note. She reads the note and immediately takes out her phone book, looking up a particular number.

Cut to Perry Mason's office, where he reads the note: It alleges to contain proof of the innocence of Carolyn's husband, Martin Ellis. Carolyn worked for Hyetts and Brewster for over year herself (she was asked to leave when he was arrested) and explains the partners handle business management accounts for rich Hollywood businesses. The $300,000 in embezzled money came from Brewster's clients -- someone submitted fraudulent bills and Ellis, the firm's comptroller, paid them without knowing they were bad.

Perry asks how he couldn't have known, and Carolyn says each bill had an authorization stamp from Brewster. Before Ellis's trial, the bills disappeared. Paul arrives with developed prints from the microfilm reel. They seem to be photostats of the missing bills. Perry tells Della to call Hamilton Burger. Later, in Burger's office, he tells them the bills will have to be checked for authenticity, but even so he apologizes to Carolyn for the miscarriage of justice. Perry tells Burger to also check on who could have sent the film to Carolyn.

Enter Perry Mason, Attorney at Law

Perry meets up with his new client, Martin Ellis, in prison. Naturally, he's rather bitter about his year-and-a-half in the joint for a crime Brewster committed. Perry cautions him against taking justice into his own hands, adding that Brewster's already been arrested for the crime. Ellis thinks Hyett Sr will get him out within hours, but Perry's certain that Burger can't be pressured with money. Ellis perks up when Carolyn arrives, and the two have a happy reunion as Perry shows himself out.

Cut to Brewster in his holding cell, meeting with Victor Squires, a rep for the Southwest Bonding and Surety Company. Squires says they're only interested in recovering the money, and he knows Brewster has a secret bank account. He closed the account a week before his arrest, when it had $308k that Brewster converted to cash. Brewster says he'll hand over $150k if Squires posts bail immediately, and Squires complies despite the illegality. However, Squires is no fool: He makes plans in case Brewster tries to skip town.

In the apartment, Ellis is furious to read in the paper that Brewster made bail. He downs a drink and then storms out, implying he might pay Brewster a visit, ignoring Carolyn's pleas. Sometime later, in a different apartment, Hyett Sr calls the police, gives his location, and reports a suicide: The body of Charles Brewster lays dead on the ground. He picks a gun off the ground, wipes it off, and puts it in the hand of his son-in-law's body.

The Murder

Tragg questions Hyett Sr, who says he found Brewster dead when he arrived with the gun in his hand. Tragg tells him he can go, then speaks with the doorman, Vico. He hands Vico some photos and asks if he can identify any of the people in them. He also takes a call from the crime lab -- the gun was put in Brewster's hand post-mortem. Vico identifies Martin Ellis, who pushed past him a few moments after 10pm, saying he had an appointment with Brewster. Tragg tells the sergeant to pick Ellis up.

Ellis and Perry meet in jail again, and Ellis confirms that Vico did see him and probably alerted Brewster, who was waiting with a gun in hand. The two of them tussled. After getting the gun, Ellis he says he couldn't bring himself to kill Brewster. He knocked his lights out, felt better, and left. Ellis also confirms that everyone at the firm knew about the apartment, despite it ostensibly being Brewster's hideaway. He doesn't know who sent the microfilm to Carolyn, but Perry points out it may not have been a benevolent act as Ellis is once again framed up and in jail.

Back in the office, Paul tells Della and Perry there's nothing traceable on the box the microfilm was sent in. Della says Perry received a special delivery envelope with no name or return address. Inside is $5000 for Ellis's defense. Paul also fills in the story of Brewster's bail: A dummy for the bonding company put up the money, and Della assumes Brewster promised to pay back what he stole. Perry also notes that Brewster tried to bribe the infuriated Ellis with part of the money. The question is: Where's the money now?

Perry tells Della to make an appointment with Squires, and Paul to get samples from the typewriters at Hyett, Brewster, and Hyett: One of them may have been used to type the anonymous note with the $5000. He also asks Della to call Mrs. Brewster. Hyett Jr answers the phone and says Valerie is too sick to speak on the phone, refusing to give Perry anymore details. After he hangs up, Valerie wanders in and drunkenly opines the mystery of missing her terrible husband. She slyly implies Hyett Jr might also be quite glad Brewster is dead.

The Investigation

Back in Perry's office, Squires tries to lie about Brewster's bail until Perry reminds him he could be an accessory. He tells Perry the whole story about the bail, including keeping Brewster under watch in case he tried to leave town. Squires only hoped he'd lead them to the money, but he didn't need to: Brewster made good on his word when Squires visited his apartment at 7:30pm, handing over $150,000 in $1,000 bills. Squires has no idea where the rest of the money is.

Squires also tells Perry that Brewster stopped at a travel agency that day, buying two tickets for Mexico City under an assumed name. Perry tells Della to call Squires' office -- he suspects there may be some news for him. Squires' secretary informs him that the other $150,000 has arrived at the office in an unmarked envelope. Later, Perry arrives at the Hyett offices with the envelope and presents it to Hyett Sr. He informs Hyett Sr that both Squires' envelope and the anonymous note to his office were typed on typewriters in the Hyett offices.

Perry notes that the doorman knows when Hyett Sr arrived at Brewster's apartment, and he didn't call the police until 15 minutes later. Hyett Sr could have searched the apartment, found the money, and returned it to the bonding company. He also could have placed the gun in Brewster's hand to make it look like suicide, and he could have sent the microfilm to Carolyn -- Perry just isn't sure why. Hyett Sr once again denies everything, so Perry says he'll see him in court. After Perry leaves, Hyett Sr tells his secretary to call the DA's office.

The Trial

Burger questions Tragg about the murder weapon -- only Brewster's prints are on it. Tragg says they know he didn't fire it, though, as there are no powder marks on his hands. Next, Tragg identifies Brewster's belongings: His wallet, two tickets to Mexico City, and a wedding ring in a box in his coat pocket. He was also wearing a CB signet ring on his right hand. Burger enters all of the items into evidence. Tragg says they found blood and skin on the signet ring. When Brewster was arrested, he had several fresh cuts on his face.

On cross, Mason asks about Hyett Sr's report of the murder. Tragg says he denied touching anything, and confirms he was alone with the body for 15 minutes. Tragg didn't search him at the time. Next, Burger calls Hyett Sr to the stand, where he admits that he waited to call the police until after he'd searched the apartment for the missing money. He found it in a suitcase, and put it in his shirt, then later mailed it to Squires.

Burger asks Hyett Sr what else he did, and he admits to wiping the gun and placing it in Brewster's hand. Burger asks why he did this, knowing it was evidence tampering, and Hyett Sr says Brewster had caused enough problems. On cross, Mason asks if Hyett Sr was reimbursed for his embezzled money -- he was, making his absconding with the money a crime. He asks who Hyett Sr could have been protecting, as there were no indications Ellis had been there, and Hyett Sr doesn't answer.

Hyett Sr says that he went to the apartment to talk about Valerie, as he was convinced Brewster would jump bail and might take Valerie with him. When Mason asks why he didn't talk to Valerie, Hyett Sr says Valerie was too in love with her husband. Hyett Sr also admits under pressure that he already knew about Brewster's culpability, but denies under oath mailing the microfilm to Carolyn.

Next, Burger surprises everyone by calling Carolyn to the stand. Mason tries to object, but Burger whips out evidence showing that Carolyn is not actually Ellis's legal wife. She was married to a Mr. Pulasky at the time, and despite being in the process of a divorce, had not technically completed it when they married. She tries to refuse testimony, but the judge says she must. But he gives Mason some time to confer with Ellis and dismisses court for the day.

Ellis is flummoxed, but Mason quickly comes up with an idea: He can "search" the Ellis apartment for the couple's bonds, as they're not community property if the two aren't married. Later, he and Paul enter the apartment and begin searching. Paul finds the bonds, as well as Carolyn's checkbook. She wrote a check to a store in San Francisco on September 12, and another to an airline for the same day. Her next check is to a Los Angeles store. Perry has some ideas about what Carolyn Ellis could have been doing in San Francisco for one day...

In Summation

Editor's Note: I know this Masonry Monday post didn't technically go out on a Monday, but that's due to a scheduling error on my part that I didn't notice until Tuesday evening. Still, being a day late is no reason not to talk about Perry Mason, so here we are.

It's almost a cliche about Perry Mason episodes at this point that the victim in each case is a terrible, awful human being who just needed offing -- most of them are miserable, contemptible people who have no issue with making the lives of the defendant and/or others hell if it means they get what they want. This is so that it's easy for the audience to believe that more than one person wanted them dead -- it's not a mystery without suspects after all.

But this might be the first time -- at least since I've been writing these recaps -- that I've ever heard someone in the case admit that no matter what the victim did to them or how bad a person they were, they didn't deserve to be murdered in cold blood. Props to Martin Ellis, who, upon getting the man who ruined his life (the extent to which even he's not fully aware) dead to rights, he can't bring himself to commit murder despite believing himself to be fully willing when he stormed out of his wife's apartment.

Case under review; please return at a later time

[defrostedhoward]

Born Janey Howard to parents Cooper and Barb Howard, JJ was there when the first bombs hit California. By then, her parents had separated. Although thy protected her from the worst of it, it was not a pretty separation. Janey, always a daddy's girl, spent as much time with her father as she could after the divorce, but it wasn't long before the infamous Great War tore across the world. Surviving the initial impact, she made her escape with her father on the back of his equine companion and co-star, Sugarfoot. Cooper, despite his differences with his ex-wife, was desperate for his little girl to survive, and managed to find Barb despite the chaos of the ending of the world. From there, Janey and Cooper were separated for good. Janey was taken from Cooper, much to her dismay, and she and her mother retreated to the safety of a Vault, where they were soon placed in cryogenic stasis. In 2271, Janey and Barb were taken out of stasis, and Janey was raised in the Vault. Between the bomb and losing her father, she had a good deal of PTSD, and as part of coping, she had a very rosy and idealized version of her father in her mind. She loved her mother, but they did have their struggles, particularly once Janey entered her teens and began to resent Barb for taking her away from Cooper. Then, in 2279, tragedy struck again, when an issue arose with the Vault's water recycling system that could not be solved with parts from within the Vault. As a result, the outer door had to be opened, which eventually led to trade with the surface. In 2281, shortly after her 17th birthday, Janey's differences with her mother came to a head, and Janey snuck out of the Vault. Once she was out, she never looked back.

In the following years, Janey began going as JJ and took to wandering the wasteland. Already having survival skills from growing up in the Vault, she perfected these skills under the guidance of an old female caravan guard that she traveled with during her first few years in the Wasteland. With the bright image of her kind, altruistic father in her mind, JJ strove to bring back to life some piece of that, and dressed in traditional cowgirl clothes- sometimes even wearing a skirt instead of trousers or slacks- and picked up a Mare's Leg lever-action rifle, which she became a crack shot with. Her backup weapon is a wicked bowie knife. She believes her father perished some 200 or so years ago, and as a result, wasn't very interested in staying in California. Traveling with the Sunrise Caravan Company, she made her way to Nevada, where she became a small figure in the background of the events of Fallout: New Vegas. In the years since, she's mostly remained in and around the area of New Vegas, having a fondness for the region due in part to memories of her father's films. These days, she's known as a skilled gunwoman and a kind person, making most of her caps providing guard services to caravans or lone travelers. She still uses her Mare's Leg, and has befriended a ragged mongrel named Abe, who is almost constantly by her side. Optional: She rides a white sleipnir named Salty.

Despite her quiet determination to make the world a better place one small act at a kind, she's kind of world-weary, and tends to be a little withdrawn, scarred by the loss of her father and the trauma of the Great War.

[shibumioz]

Trump 25th March "Hush Money - porn actress Stormy Daniels" trial a little more backstory.

Making less publicity are the soon to become public Audio Recordings Reveal Coordinated Efforts to Conceal Donald Trump's Hush Money Payments and Election Interference

In a stunning turn of events, audio recordings have surfaced, shedding light on the coordinated efforts to conceal Donald Trump's involvement in hush money payments to adult film actress Stormy Daniels during his 2016 presidential campaign. These recordings, obtained by investigative journalists, reveal a deliberate scheme to manipulate financial records, fabricate company documents, and mislead the public to protect Trump's reputation and electoral prospects.

The tapes, which were recorded during a series of private meetings, feature key players discussing the need to "hide the embarrassing facts" and "scheme" to prevent Trump's "nefarious" and "dirty habits" from becoming public knowledge. The conversations also reveal discussions about altering financial records and creating a complex web of deceit to disguise the true nature of the payments.

This revelation is particularly significant as it suggests a coordinated effort to interfere with the 2016 presidential election by concealing information that could have had a significant impact on voters' perceptions of Trump's character and fitness for office.

[mariacallous]

Once, when I was younger and would dress somewhat outrageously, I caught a stranger recording me on his phone as I danced on the tube, on my way to a gay club. The video never surfaced online to my knowledge – perhaps he simply sent it to a group chat – but for months I looked over my shoulder when dancing.

Turning strangers into online content for the purposes of comedy and entertainment has become a global pastime. And we lap it up. A drunk person relieves themselves in the street, a loved-up couple gets a bit steamy in a supermarket, a man is in his own world loudly singing out of tune on crowded public transport – the content is endless.But the line between lighthearted teasing and digital harassment seems to be getting thinner by the day.

Recently, a 64-year-old, retired man, Michael Peacock, was filmed dancing enthusiastically at Fabric nightclub in London. The video was uploaded online with the caption: “Yo I’ll never be going Fabric again.” The intention was clearly to laugh at the man’s dancing, and the clip also invited a range of homophobic and ageist responses, with the man in question reporting to Vice that his “heart sank” when he saw tweets about himself.

None of us can expect a legally protected right to absolute privacy when we step out in public. There are, however, basic ideas that we’re all supposed to hold around respect and dignity, which mean we should not invade others’ personal space through intrusion or fixed observation. It’s an unspoken code that is evaporating at a time where there are rewards to be gained by selling out another person’s privacy, making them go viral.

Cases such as Peacock’s might seem obviously cruel or unwarranted, but clearly not everyone sees it that way. After all, most of us have recording equipment in our pockets, designed not only to capture but to disseminate content in an instant. It takes active thought to see that what’s going on is too often a kind of antisocial behaviour: a rigorous policing of fun, spontaneity and expression, a disciplinary mechanism for social conformity.

Sometimes recording is not as spontaneous as spotting a stranger you think is ridiculous and snapping: in our age of YouTube and TikTok there are also the curated setups where a stranger becomes a supporting character in a skit they’ve not auditioned for. Like Candid Camera for generation Z, it’s commonplace for strangers to be pranked or misled for the purposes of content. These pranks usually have less sinister or malicious intent than spontaneous recording, but the feeling of being degraded is often the same, with uploaders potentially monetising the content.

For instance, a Melbourne woman who was made to participate in a “random act of kindness” TikTok without her knowledge, described being filmed without her consent as “dehumanising”. A friend of mine, Kyle Skies, recently fell victim to a YouTube prankster, in which he was provoked by a series of annoying questions. The video is incredibly funny (there’s no argument about that) but Skies didn’t see it that way.

“I had just run for and missed the train so I was already flustered and annoyed, and then that happened to me. I don’t know if my anxiety was kicking in but I was ready to fight,” he tells me. “I wanted to slap him but I had to think about where I was as a tall black man.” Though he felt he was being set up, he was still not prepared to see the video online. “My cousin sent it to me, because he’s of that age group. He was laughing, saying, ‘You’re so funny.’ But it didn’t feel nice. I got a bit of anxiety and my heart started pounding, I wasn’t ready for it.” Skies is powerless here – so long as footage is taken in public and does not reveal certain personal data, such as your bank details or medical history, you generally do not need the subject’s consent (though a professional production company making a prank show would certainly get written permissions from its subjects).

There are, of course, instances where recording strangers can be in the public interest: state abuses of power, such as police brutality, jump out. But we do need to start thinking more carefully about this dog-eat-dog culture of public spectacle. Take the example of someone, who appeared to be a school age child, filmed shouting at passengers on a commuter train this month after seemingly being asked not to vape. (It was viewed several million times on Twitter.) Many would argue that if you behave offensively, and cause a public scene, then you forfeit any right to expect a dignified social code of privacy, and that there should be appropriate social consequences for this behaviour.

Few people who negatively commented online seemed to consider that they might have been watching footage of a minor. Or that the intense gaze of multiple recording devices could have overwhelmed the subject, whose response was likely escalated by a defensive need to stand their ground and not look weak in front of the cameras. Their behaviour was certainly not appropriate, but what does it mean when bystanders can witness a young person vaping on the train and their first thought is to ridicule and humiliate? Would the incident have played out differently without cameras and the incentive to create content from other people’s meltdowns? And even if their behaviour was bad, was it really in the public interest for it to be shared, when the behaviour was simply disrespectful rather than violent or bigoted?

Until such practices become social faux pas there is the chance that you could step outside and become someone else’s ticket to social media stardom. The use of mobile recording devices has empowered us in many ways. Beefing up privacy laws to prevent the filming of strangers in public would be undesirable, not to mention unworkable. What can change is social and cultural – reacting with grace to each other’s embarrassments, and minding your own business more.

[marypsue]

I am back on my bullshit (thinking about your stranger thing fics 24/7 and getting confused that your canon is not universal) but i was wondering if you had any extra body swap AU tidbits to share!! Or some Robin and Jonathan interactions in any verse!!

Lastly, I would love to hear your thoughts about how the Duffers pick their outcasts!! Also one thing that’s always struck me about stranger things (especially s1) is how much the narrative beats strike along those of ecological disasters(a la Erin brokovitch) and how in some ways ST seemed to understand that tragedy is random but some people are less protected from tragedy/authority fails them/the knowledge something is wrong but having no recourse yet lost all sense of finesse in later seasons. Idk if others have had those thoughts especially bc in some way it’s been lampshaded with the Barb cover story.

Anon I'm chewing gravel, you articulated it so well and so precisely. the narrative beats strike along those of ecological disasters!!!! I never thought about it that way but you're absolutely right!! Now I want somebody who has more knowledge than me to do a blow-by-blow comparing season 1 against Chernobyl or some equally prestigious piece of nuclear-disaster literature, because I'm really curious about whether that tracks, too. Just given the era and the anxieties of the era.

(Cut because here be salt.)

The ways in which it's lost all finesse, I think, are part sophomore slump (the show was a pet project in development for something like ten years before Netflix picked up season one, and then they wanted like a season a year after that? Or something along those lines?), part Franchising Is The Death Of Art, and part the Duffers just letting success go to their heads. The more I hear about the behind-the-scenes, the more sense I get that the showrunners just...don't put a lot of thought into what they make. Part of it is almost certainly time crunch, and part of it is absolutely economic pressure (the fabled Studio Meddling, and the studio is, instead of beholden to the companies who'd run ads during the show's runtime, beholden to the companies who'd buy product placement), and then there's the whole 'the US military won't let you use their infrastructure as props/sets if your film or TV show is too openly critical of the US military' thing.

But enough other showrunners work around these forces in interesting ways that it becomes really obvious how simply lazy a lot of the Duffers' choices are. They just pick something they think sounds cool and run with it. And that's a great way for every bias or anxiety or grudge they've ever had and not examined to float up to the surface to get skimmed off and shoved into their show.

I really do think that they set out with good intentions, in terms of 'outcasts' and challenging social norms. I just think that they've got a bunch of big ol' blind spots that they maybe don't even realise they have, have never examined, and now have an army of fans telling them aren't actually problems and they don't need to change anything. Honestly, it's the same problem a lot of actual 80s media has - John Hughes' whole canon is based off of this kind of 'identification with the outsider' thing, but. Well, Long Duck Dong exists.

It's the assumption that the white straight dude is the default, and everybody can relate to him, and should relate to him, and that if He is ever outcast then something is Wrong in Society - but hey, if people oppress women or gays or minorities, that's just how things work. And it's frustrating to see unironically and uncritically repeated in something that's patting itself so loudly and enthusiastically on the back about how it's All For The Freaks! (So Long As They're, You Know, Our Kind Of Freaks.)

Also it sounds like these motherfuckers keep ignoring the characterisation notes Winona Ryder is giving them and they Will one day die by my blade for disrespecting her. She's got more creative integrity, talent, and hard-earned skill in her little finger than the both of them have in their entire bodies. Put together. She made your careers you dumb fucking walnuts, do you think anybody would have cared that much about season one if it hadn't had Winona fucking Ryder in it????????

Anyway. On a less depressing note. I absolutely do have some Jonathan and Robin interactions I can share, and I'm going to pop them in a separate post because this one turned into a bummer, because I am a bummer. Expect that in a minute or two!

[imperialchem]

The Importance of Corrosion Inhibitors in Water Treatment Processes

Corrosion inhibitors play a crucial role in water treatment processes as they prevent the degradation of metal equipment and infrastructure, ensuring their longevity and reliability.  By effectively inhibiting corrosion, these additives safeguard water quality, minimize maintenance costs, and preserve the integrity of vital systems, ultimately enhancing overall operational efficiency.

Introduction:

In various industrial processes and applications, water plays a crucial role.  However, water can contain dissolved oxygen and other impurities that can lead to corrosion of metal surfaces, resulting in equipment failure, increased maintenance costs, and potential safety hazards.  To combat these challenges, the use of corrosion inhibitors in water treatment processes has become essential.  In this blog, we will explore the significance of corrosion inhibitors and highlight the role they play in protecting metal infrastructure.  Additionally, we will shed light on some prominent corrosion inhibitor manufacturers, exporters, and suppliers in India, specifically in Gujarat.

Understanding Corrosion:

Corrosion is a natural process that occurs when metals come into contact with water or other corrosive substances.  It causes the gradual deterioration of metal structures and can significantly impact industrial systems.  Corrosion can manifest in various forms, such as rusting, pitting, or scaling, depending on the type of metal and the environmental conditions.

The Role of Corrosion Inhibitors:

Corrosion inhibitors are chemical compounds designed to mitigate the effects of corrosion on metal surfaces.  When added to water, these inhibitors form a protective layer on the metal, preventing corrosive substances from coming into direct contact with it.  Corrosion inhibitors work by either adsorbing onto the metal surface or by forming a passivating film that acts as a barrier against corrosion-causing agents.

The Benefits of Corrosion Inhibitors in Water Treatment:

Extended Equipment Lifespan:  By using corrosion inhibitors, the lifespan of equipment and infrastructure can be significantly prolonged.  The protective layer formed by corrosion inhibitors helps reduce the rate of corrosion, thereby preventing premature failure and costly replacements.

Increased Efficiency:  Corrosion can negatively impact the efficiency of industrial processes by obstructing the flow of water and interfering with heat transfer.  By employing corrosion inhibitors, the efficiency of systems can be enhanced, resulting in improved productivity and reduced energy consumption.

Cost Savings:  Corrosion-related maintenance and repair expenses can be substantial for industries.  By utilizing corrosion inhibitors, companies can minimize these costs by reducing the frequency of repairs, equipment replacement, and downtime.

Corrosion Inhibitor Manufacturers, Exporters, and Suppliers in Gujarat, India:

When it comes to corrosion inhibitors, Gujarat, a prominent industrial hub in India, hosts several reputable manufacturers, exporters, and suppliers.  Some noteworthy companies in this field include:

Corrosion Inhibitor Manufacturers in India:  These manufacturers provide a wide range of high-quality corrosion inhibitors suitable for various industrial applications.  Their products undergo stringent quality control measures to ensure effectiveness and reliability.

Corrosion Inhibitor Exporter in Gujarat:  Exporters in Gujarat specialize in supplying corrosion inhibitors to international markets.  They maintain a strong global presence and ensure timely delivery of corrosion inhibitor solutions to clients worldwide.

Corrosion Inhibitor Supplier in Gujarat:  Suppliers in Gujarat cater to the local market by offering corrosion inhibitors that meet industry standards.  They work closely with businesses to provide customized solutions based on specific requirements.

Conclusion:

Corrosion inhibitors play a crucial role in water treatment processes, protecting metal infrastructure and ensuring the smooth operation of industrial systems.  The use of corrosion inhibitors helps extend the lifespan of equipment, increase efficiency, and reduce maintenance costs.  In Gujarat, India, several reliable manufacturers, exporters, and suppliers offer a wide range of corrosion inhibitors to meet the diverse needs of industries.  By partnering with these reputable companies, businesses can effectively combat corrosion-related challenges and maintain the integrity of their metal assets for years to come.

[tintusacharlotte]

WHAT ARE THE BEST TYPES OF WINDOW TINT FOR YOUR HOME

TYPES OF WINDOW TINT

1. Dyed window tint: This is the most basic type of window tint and consists of a single layer of dyed polyester film applied to the glass surface that can reduce heat, UV radiation, and glare.

2. Metalized window tint: This type of film has metal particles embedded in it and is effective at reflecting heat while also providing privacy from outside eyes due to its reflective properties.

3. Carbon window tint: The carbon particles within this film absorb and reject solar energy, resulting in good protection against both heat and UV rays while maintaining a high level of visibility from inside the home.

4. Ceramic window tint: Featuring ceramic nanoparticles suspended in a polyester matrix, this type of window tint offers superior heat and UV protection and is virtually invisible from the outside.

WHICH HOME WINDOW TINT IS BEST?

The best home window tint for you will depend on your specific needs. Dyed windows tints are the most economical option, but offer less protection than other types of film. Metalized and Carbon tints provide better heat rejection and UV protection while maintaining a good level of visibility; however, they can reduce visible light transmission more than dyed films. Ceramic tints are the most advanced home window film available, providing superior heat and UV protection while remaining virtually undetectable from the outside. Consider all your options carefully to determine which home window film will be best suited to meet your needs.

BENEFITS OF WINDOW TINTING

Some of the benefits of home window tinting include: improved energy efficiency, reduction in glare, protection from UV rays and heat, improved home privacy, and a more comfortable home environment. Window tint can help reduce energy costs by blocking out the sun’s heat during summer months and trapping in heat during winter months. Additionally, window tinting helps to protect furniture from fading due to UV exposure and can reduce the amount of glare that enters the home. For increased home privacy, window film also serves as an effective barrier for outside eyes. By providing better insulation and comfort levels within your home, window tint is a great way to ensure your home remains cozy all year long!

HOW TO CHOOSE THE RIGHT WINDOW TINT FOR YOUR HOME

When selecting residential window tint, it is important to consider factors such as the amount of heat and UV protection you need, how much visibility you require from inside your home, and your budget. Choosing a window film that meets all these criteria can ensure that you get the best window tint for your needs. Additionally, it is important to select a product from a reliable vendor with good customer service so that you can be sure to enjoy years of performance with minimal issues.

Window film can help make your home more comfortable and efficient by providing excellent protection against heat and UV rays while also reducing glare and increasing privacy. By weighing all the available options carefully, you can find the right residential window tint for your home that will provide you with the right protection and aesthetic appeal.

INSTALLATION TIPS

When installing residential window tint, it is important to read and follow the instructions carefully. Additionally, wear protective eyewear and gloves to protect yourself from any sharp edges or debris. Make sure to measure the home windows accurately so that you can apply the film properly without any wrinkles or bubbles. If you are unsure about how to install window film, it is best to seek professional assistance for a perfect installation every time!

Hiring a professional window tinting company can help you save time and money, while ensuring that the home window tint is applied correctly. A reputable company will have qualified and experienced technicians who use high quality materials to provide excellent results. Make sure to research different companies before making a decision to ensure the best service possible.

MAINTENANCE AND CARE INSTRUCTIONS

Home window tint should be maintained and cleaned regularly for optimal performance. When cleaning home window tint, use a microfiber cloth or soft brush to gently remove dirt or dust without damaging the film. Carefully follow the manufacturer’s instructions on how to clean home window tints as different types of films require different cleaning methods.

It is also important to avoid using abrasive materials, such as scrapers or razor blades, as these can damage home window tinting. If you need to remove home window tint for any reason, it should only be done by a professional technician who knows how to safely and effectively do so.

If you are considering having window tint installed on your home, contact the professionals at Tint USA of Charlotte for a FREE quote.