#it's tiring but it's so exciting at the same time!

[wosoluver]

Oh, baby

Georgia Stanway x reader.

I know nothing about giving birth so bare with me. Also please don't kill me for the plot changes, Hope you like it!

Other players masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Fuck!" you said feeling the warm liquid run down your legs. "No, no, no." You were staying over at her parents' house. Tomorrow would be the final match at the 2023 world cup and you would be gathered to watch the game there.

"Jo! We need to go, my water just broke!" you said grabbing her mother's attention. Her dad had gone to Australia to support her, but her mom refused leaving you, pregnant and alone. And you thanked the universe. You were 36 weeks, you were to give birth only next month. You had been feeling small contractions, that were apparently normal in the third trimester.

That was the only reason Georgia agreed to go.

A million thoughts went through your mind. Would the baby be okay? Would they have to do a C-section?

Would your fiancé be okay, knowing she missed the moment se was waiting so excited for? Were you even ready for this?

You started to cry immediately.

"Don't worry love, I'm calling her as soon as you're in the hospital."

"No please! You can't! You know her!" you said followed by a scream when you felt the sharp pain of a contraction hit you. "Please, please wait as much as we can. This is important for her, she needs to be a hundred percent focused."

"But seeing her daughter's birth is too..."

"I know but even if she knows, she'll won't get here in time. Please."

She only nodded agreeing with you. And you asked her to call your parents instead.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

While you walked around the room, preparing yourself for the ride ahead, in attempt to stay sound, you thought about what had led you here.

You and Georgia had been together for almost six years.

You had met at Man City, both came from a small town and were around the same age, sharing the dream to become big players.

You started dating, and your relationship went through a lot.

You endured for years a long distance relationship, when you moved away to play in Spain and she stayed back in Manchester.

A couple of seasons later you transferred to Bayern, where your girlfriend soon followed suit.

And you both finally managed to start your life together.

She didn't want to wait any longer, all that time had been enough.

From living together to her proposing, life felt like pure bliss.

And after the 2022 euro's title, you felt like it was the right time to have a pause on your career.

It wasn't an easy decision, since the World Cup was around the corner.

But differently from your teammates, you now had a bigger dream, Georgia fully supported you, she herself had always wanted to be a mother.

You didn't expect for it to work so soon.

Along with the risks the doctors had told you, it could take more than one try.

Fortunately the whole pregnancy had been very healthy, and nothing gave you any reason to think something like this could happen.

You questioned yourself if you were doing the right thing, by not updating her on the matter.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Georgia's head was buzzing, Spain was winning by a goal. England had slightly recovered at the end of first half, but it wasn't enough.

She sat on the locker room, trying to cool down, zoning out a bit. All she could think of was winning this, to come home as a champion. For her girls.

She could have never imagined you had been in the hospital for the last couple of hours, let alone giving birth. So she didn't bother to look for her phone.

And before she knew, she was walking back to the field for the second half.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Just one more push, yeah?"

And you did as a loud cry filled the room. And they placed her right on your chest.

You felt like you could pass out from how tired you were.

But you couldn't, yet.

"You did great darling." her mom cooed you in between tears.

"Is the game over yet?"

"Yes, they won second place." she handed your phone over.

You cried hard a the sound of that. She had been deprived of being champion and seeing her daughter's first moments in the same day, at the same time. You tried to recompose yourself while you pressed to facetime her.

ongoing call...

"Hey love, what took you so lon-" she managed to get out before shutting up at the realization. A big smile appearing in her tear stained face. "She's beautiful."

before she could say anything else, Lucy, who was prying at the video call, loudly announced to everyone.

"The baby is here!" and you could hear the girls cheering loudly. Running to try and congratulate you.

"You guys are so loud, geez." your soon to be wife said after a few moments, walking to a more private place, so you both could talk.

"I am so sorry." you said eyes filled with tears.

"We couldn't have known." she said giving you a reassuring smile. "I was going to show you this baby here," showing her silver medal at the camera. "But it seems like you're already holding our baby right there."

And for over ten minutes you two sat quietly, just admiring the angel you had brought into the world.

"Is she okay? I mean she clearly looks like it, but since she's early..."

"Better than expected actually. They said she's around 6.30 lbs and over 19 inches. Pretty big for a preterm. They'll run some tests in the morning, just to be sure." you said letting out a yawn.

"You need to get some sleep. And I'm getting on the first plane home."

"I love you, and I'm so proud of you."

"Oh baby, I'm the one who's proud. I love you. Both of you."

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Maybe another part with G meeting baby Talia?

like & share pls!

[arisewanekosuki]

Caught you!

You were running through the forest as fast as you could. Not even looking back to see if you lost him. But this is how long your stamina can take you, you needed to take a break or you will puke your own lungs. Leaning against a tree you gasped for air. Maybe if you will be lucky he won't notice you and pass by, giving you a chance to run the other way. Your breathing calmed down a bit, ready to start running again- SLAM You didn't expect two hands slamming close to both sides of your head and being welcomed with green eyes looking at you with excitement. -"Caught you~" Said Sethos with pride. -"H-how did you get here so fast?" you asked, he looks like he didn't even run! His breathing was normal and you can't even see him sweating from the running. -"Aww I told you I'm the fastest around!" he smiled at you innocently. "And now it's time for my prize!" and with that he started to kiss you around the face. His hand holding you on waist, bringing you closer to him. -"S-Sethos! M-Maybe not here?" You tried to stop him, he pouted at that. -"We are in the middle of the forest, no one is going to see us!" -"But-" -"No buts!" his fingers started to move, tickling you. You screamed and then erupted into laughter. You were pleading with him between laughs to stop but he didn't listen. When he noticed you had enough he let you go. You slid to the ground breathing heavily from all this laughter. -"…You're mean…" you said, the boy laughed at that, crouching in front you. -"Not my fault you're cute when you're laughing!" He winked at you and then kissed on the lips. -"Uhm…" You both stoped the kiss after hearing a third person voice. Looking behind Sethos you noticed Collei blushing. "S-sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt! I heard a scream and..um.. I will go now!" and she runned off. You were hoping she wouldn't tell Tighnari about it. You don't want to hear your friend tease you both and scold for being distracted like this in the forest. You playfully smacked Sethos' arm. -"See? Someone saw us! And it was Collei!" -"It's alright! We were just kissing!" -"But still!-" -"So… who first will reach your home?" Sethos helped you get up. -"No, thank you. I'm too tired to run all the way back." you sighed, you felt like your legs would fall off soon. -"Then how about this?" Your boyfriend turned around, crouching down so you can get on. -"I hope you're not thinking about running with me on your back?" -"…maybe?" he brightly smiled. You always find him cute when he smiles like this. Shaking your head you sighed but smiled at the same time. You got up on your boyfriend's back, holding tightly to him. -"Alright… I'm rea-" and before you could finish Sethos started to run, laughing.

--- Thanks for reading! Not me waking up and getting idea for this short thing :'3c

[st4rpiece]

nipple piercings pt. 1

NSFW

characters: luffy, zoro, and sanji x fem! reader summary: the monster trios reaction to your new nipple piercings content warnings: established relationships, nipple sucking, breast play others: lowercase intended, not proofread, pictures from pinterest

_____

Monkey D. Luffy

you had recently gotten them done, so while they healed, you wore thin clothing instantly drawing luffy's attention. he was immediately fascinated by your new piercings.

he'd probably poke at them with a childlike curiosity, his eyes wide with wonder. "wow, these are so cool! do they hurt?" he'd ask, genuinely intrigued. surprisingly, as you explain the sensation and the reason behind getting them, luffy would listen intently, absorbing every word.

as the days went by, luffy would occasionally bring up the piercings in conversations, always with the same level of excitement. "babe, show me those cool piercings again," he'd say, his eyes sparkling with interest. he'd honestly never get tired of seeing them.

your first time fucking after getting them ignited a side of luffy you rarely saw in bed. luffy was extra careful and attentive as his hands trailed up your body before resting on your breast. his calloused hands cupping them as his thumb softly ran across the piercing, tracing its outline.

"does it feel good?" you nod, back arching, pushing your breast further into his hands. without warning he'd roughly flick the piercings, soaking in your reaction with a mischievous grin.

"i wonder how they taste," he'd say before leaning in to give them a teasing lick, his warm breath sending shivers down their spine. the saltiness of your skin mixed with the metallic taste of the metal bar tasted so good. he licked, sucked, and bit, giving your nipple the attention they deserved.

Roronoa Zoro

zoro would have a more intense reaction to your new piercings. you quickly ran to go show him the minute you and nami returned back to the sunny. you found him resting against the headboard of your shared bed.

his eye opened the second you entered the room, waiting for a kiss (something you always do after returning to him) instead you just stood there at the foot of the bed with a mischievous grin.

"what?" he'd asked, instead of answering you lifted up your shirt and showed off your new piercings.

he would stare intently at your bare tits and the contrasting silver bar with a playful smirk on his lips. "didn't think you had it in you," he'd tease, his voice a deep rumble laced with arousal.

"come here, i want to get a better look," the second you are close, he would pull you over his lap in a straddling position. while his hands rested on your hip, his eyes never left your breast. he wanted nothing more than to take them into his mouth and hear how you sounded to a new sensation. but first, he had to make sure you were okay. be began throwing questions at you.

did it hurt?

how much did they cost?

and lastly, how sensitive are you right now?

once he knows that you are okay, his grip on your waist will tighten, pulling your body closer.

without reserve, his lips would pepper you with kisses trailing from your neck down to the piercings, giving them a gentle tug with his teeth. causing you to grip his hair releasing a moan from the sensation, one he hadn't heard before.

"mmh, i like that," he'd grunt against their skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "these suit you well, baby." his voice husky as he lifted his eyes wanting to watch your reactions closely as his fingers tugged and pulled on one while his mouth bit and sucked on the other. his eyes darken with lust as he takes in the pleasure written on their face.

Vinsmoke Sanji

before parting ways with nami you tell her to send a message to sanji about you needing him in your room. you sat on the bed, nervous and excited ready to show sanji how you spent your evening.

sanji, ever the romantic, would be utterly captivated by your new piercings. "holy shit baby," his eyes would widen in surprise and admiration, a very noticeable blush spreading across his face. "how did you manage to make yourself even hotter," he'd say, his voice filled with genuine awe.

"may i?" you nodded, even though you were still pretty sore, you craved his touch. he'd gently cup you breasts, his fingers brushing over the piercings with a feather-light touch. loving the contrast between your soft warm skin against the cool metal bar.

his touch would become more confident, his fingers teasing the piercings with a mix of tenderness and desire. causing you to let out a kitten-like moan. which further turns him on, "i want to make you feel incredible," he'd whisper, his breath warm against your skin.

his lips would follow the path of his fingers, kissing and licking around the piercings, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. "look at how swollen these bud are," he says, pinching your nipples harder.

"sanji," you managed to moan out.

"hold on my love, i'm just getting started," with lips still attached to your breast, his hands toy with the band of your shorts, dipping inside skimpy underwear.

_____

I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and liking my work >.<. it means a lot!!

I'm working on part 2 atm (kidd, killer, and law) and might get that up tmr :) still, I hope you guys enjoyed this one!!

in the meantime, feel free to check out my kidd one shot >.<!

[tiredsmashbros]

Memories : part one

2k words ; tsb fanfic

the battle was intense. that's all smg4 could think about. chest tightens while engulfed in fear as he dodges the attacks of a giant mallet aiming at him. barely escaping the impact by an inch. the mallet belonging to non other than the person who has been impacting smg4's life into a spiral of endless stress. the suspicious behavior pattern, lack of consideration of others, unrealistic cartoon language and logic, and even his mysterious background are what made smg4 legs shake. yet the fellow still showed acts of kindness, thoughtfulness, a sense of genuine... nothing made sense! what's worse, smg4 never expected anything weird coming from this guy from their first introduction, he genuinely was quite excited for a new friend who seemed so silly, and intrigued by the memes he shared. yet... here he was now. fighting what felt like for his life. he didn't know what to do but be on the defensive side as he grew tired and weak. doing his best to sustain stamina as the yellow, blue maniac wasn't even breaking a sweat.

"stop this man! this isn't like you!" smg3 shouted, in the hope of verbally knocking some sense into the propeller-wearing individual, despite already countless efforts beforehand. striking a punch on tsb's face, losing his grip on his mallet.

"you don't know him." the body of tsb responded, his voice giving an unusual echo, eyes narrowed exposing his brown iris, accompanied by an uncanny smile that spread across his face. letting out a childish chuckle, tsb pulls his head back and strikes onto smg3 with a head-butt move. receiving a pained groan in response to the quick attack. smg4 rushed over to aid smg3 from falling over, standing beside his guardian partner, yearning to protect him but fueled with caution of the maniac man in front of them.

"let's try our meme powers again!" smg4 suggested to smg3, catching his breath in between.

"that method is futile." tsb spoke, almost monotone, his head dripping from the side of his shoulder, "you are too tired. you don't have enough energy to input something effective." he added.

smg3 clicked his tongue, eyes filled with anger yet with a touch of sorrow. seeing tsb talk and act this way made smg3 feel uneasy. something felt off by the way he spoke and the usage of vocabulary. his mind clouded with memories, being reminded of the silly obnoxious man that would bounce out of nowhere, someone he'd spent having long talks of comfort, a bro to always be there to help... to now him aiming to beat him down till he couldn't stand on either foot. "he's right," smg3 softly spoke, "nothing we do will work. we can't beat him..." smg3 added in a defeated tone.

"finally that's progress into your head!" tsb exclaimed, adding in a child-like giggling, giving the two guardians chills down their spines. till suddenly a lightbulb sparked inside smg4.

"wait that's it!" smg4 said. "into your head!"

"what in the hell are you-" smg3 spoke, but he was interrupted by his hand being pulled away by his blue counterpart.

puzzled yet intrigued, tsb grins and starts the chase after the smg's. staying somewhat close behind, but far enough to make the chase more of a game instead. dragging his body unnaturally on purpose.

smg3 got a hold of his stance, running behind smg4 but flustered by the sudden hand grab turned into holding. "b-baka! w-where are we-"

"while i was locked up by tsb and by that weird pink sand time guy," smg4 interjected, "right before you guys found me i was starting my escape when i accidentally stumbled upon watching him put a weird helmet device onto tsb's head." the two running out of the dark void they were formally at, to a slim hallway of the same black stardust material on the walls, floor, and ceiling. "and that is relevant how?" smg3 queried, puzzled, taking a mental note of tsb following them behind. yet tsb wasn't close enough to listen to the smg's conversation.

"that helmet device is the key! i overheard that sand guy its used to go into memories of mortals!"

"so why did he put one on tsb? to manipulate and control him or some shit?"

"m-maybe? i don't know yet! but it's our ticket to hopefully stopping this rampage of his before that cartoon legit kills us! you're close with him, maybe you can try punching his chaotic shit out of his mind?" smg4 quizzed.

"pfftha! that i can do!" smg3 cheered, a smirk blooming across his face. becoming aware of the possibility of potentially saving his friend who may be mind-controlled, it just made sense! the tsb he knew would never act this strange or dangerous. an observation thought the purple guardian kept to himself, fully aware of what his partner may have opinionated if spoken aloud. smg3 may love his guardian partner, but he knows for a fact from the small crescent of his emo heart who tsb truly is as an individual. even if smg3 lacks personal background and proof to support his belief, he would curse smg4's name for believing it. he only hopes that one day smg4 could realize for himself, how wrong he is about the silly looney toon. only time could tell as smg4 continued to lead them to what seemed like an endless dream space. seeing the same black void tingled confusion in his mind, it felt like an illusion even seeing the same thing repeatedly. his eyes giving a sense of lost in reality.

finally, smg4 jerked into an open room of an iron door, a space surrounded by chalkboards, paper, technology equipment, and science shenanigans smg3 took note of. smg4 immediately began searching for one of the helmet devices he mentioned, successfully within seconds smg4 found it and held it high in accomplishment. it was shaped and looked like a thick, solid helmet made for riding bicycles, painted all white accompanied by a red, yellow, and blue stripe down the center of the headwear. immediately, smg4 began searching for a second one to complete the mind transaction process. just as he does, tsb creepily walks in announcing his entrance, "back by popular demand...ME!" the 'me' delivered in an almost demonic-like vocal expression.

smg3 let out a small cry in surprise, retreating to smg4's side, praying now that smg4 was right about this plan. "alright 3, you grab ahold of him as best you can in a still position so i can input this on top of his stupid head!" smg4 ordered, moving to the side cautiously eyeing tsb.

smg3 nodded, "got it." he spoke not as enthusiastic as before, as he began to mentally prepare to hold that crazy cartoon maniac down after already a long fighting session as his life seriously depended on it. he prepped his stance, knees bent down at a 90-degree angle, spreading his legs for a wider range. "come on now then, big boy! show daddy how much you love him!" smg3 shouted, fanning his hands as a motion to invite tsb to come at him.

tsb manically laughed, full sprinting and pouncing at smg3 letting out a fnaf 2 foxy jumpscare scream. immediately the two began wrestling hitting and smacking down tables and chairs that flooded the room, papers flying above as cords being detached were heard. smg3 attempts to land punches to only then be received with a bite on his arm instead. smg3 bit his lip in an attempt to hold in his screams of pain and instead used it as the perfect opportunity to flip their positions with smg3 now on top of him. pressing his arm further back into tsb's mouth to stabilize him with his head in an upward locked position, despite the bottom half of his body being twisted the other way due to his unnatural body physics. using his other hand to aggressively stabilize tsb's hands, whereas his foot locked down tsb's legs.

smg4 stood on the sidelines, patiently and anxiously waiting for smg3 to hold the cartoon still, and just as his partner did smg4 rushed in without a second thought placing the device on top of tsb's head. swiftly removing tsb's propeller hat to prevent it from getting in the way. remembering how the pink sand man did it on him by pressing a black button on the side to activate it. after it was finally set on tsb's head, smg4 took a step back watching as the man pinned on the ground attempted to remove the helmet to no avail.

"now what!?" smg3 yelled with a struggled tone, growing anxiously impatient and mentally screaming in agonizing pain, grinding his teeth hard as tsb only dug his teeth deeper into the purple guardian's arm urgently attempt for freedom.

"okay, okay, i just need you to hold your head still and i'll place the second helmet on you so you can mind travel into his crazy brains or whatever!" smg4 hurriedly said, just as panicked as his guardian partner. swiftly grabbing the second helmet he had behind him and rushing towards back to smg3.

however, tsb did not like the plan these partnered guardians were cooking up. this time, putting all his energy into brute force to twist smg3 down to the opposite side of smg4's path to prevent him from putting the helmet on.

the purple meme guardian screamed in agony as his head harshly hit the floor, his body positioned awkwardly to be kept down by tsb. smg4 jolted from the sudden change of control and stood frozen in fear. to tsb's misfortune, smg3 was still holding onto tsb's hands enough to continue to prevent him from manually removing the helmet. yet the catch was there was no safe possible way to input the helmet onto smg3's head without tsb interfering.

"smg3! i-i can't find a safe spot to put the helmet on you!" smg4 said worriedly, fearful of his plan coming to a defeat. it couldn't end like this, he needed to think of something! tsb only laughed to himself, concluding by default victorious without the consideration of smg3 coming to a concluded thought. a thought that not only would help them win on top but a thought that may finally answer his prayers for the person he cared most to finally understand.

"s-smg4," the purple counterpart started, "YOU have to put the helmet on!" this suggestion surprised both his partner and the animated cartoon. "you can't put it on me, but it's not impossible for you to put it on yourself. YOU got to go inside this dumb dr. pepper loving asshole's brains and fix him!"

"i-i can't do that!" smg4 stuttered, shaking anxiously realizing the aim smg3 was getting at.

"yes you can! you can do it for me or for hell's sake do it for tari! she needs out help! we can't waste anymore time smg4!" smg3 exclaimed impatiently.

"i don't know how-"

"NEITHER DO I!" smg3 bursted, "but you trust and believe in me enough to do it anyways from the start! i trust and believe right back at you man." smg4 stood idly shocked, and to his surprise so did tsb. catching himself staring into tsb's eyes, they were still narrowed like before but... this time he could see a white arrow-shape glimmer in them. it almost felt like he was pleading for him to do so, to put on the helmet... but why? as if lost time on a timer, tsb's eyes reeled back to maniac mode, and resumed his attempt to freed himself from smg3's bearable grasp. "DO IT NOW FOUR!" smg3 yelled as he pushed in all his remaining energy to hold tsb down.

in a hesitant instance, smg4 removed his hat and put the helmet on. "NOOO!" screamed tsb in a higher echoed pitch, an unrecognized voice that didn't belong to tsb. with one more glance at his best friend, the two meme guardians gave each other an agreeable nod as smg4 pushed the button. with one final physical motion as smg4 could hear the technology within the helmet activate, smg4 raised his arm up, and gave a thumbs up.

to be continued...

...

...

...

fri: “watchman” was an outworldly entity, one could even label a god, but they were much more than that. an entity by physical appearance built up by particles of pink fluidity sand. as if a piece had its own consciousness. watchman was a playful being, understood empathy, sympathized with others, and yearned to nurture those suffering in pain. romantical pain even. always watching love play… always… watching… tick tock. 

[daengtokki]

Heyy there :) I literally can't stop thinking about SKZ f!additional member AU and softie Seungmin who seems nonchalant like the unbothered king he is but caring just deeply about reader, for example looking out for her when practice gets tough, getting snacks during recording sessions and so oooon. Yeah, I'm weak for that. Maybe you are, too. Have fun during this fluffy week either way^-^<3

This trope is interesting, but I've never actually read a single fic based on it! I'm not sure if I would do it justice. I do have an idea, though, and it's in the same vein as this, and I can add in the things that you're weak for (because same). The problem is…I can’t do it in a single ~1k word oneshot 🥲

So thank you for the inspiration for a new possible longer story! Unless everyone absolutely hates it.

If you like it, I’ll be happy.

idol!Kim Seungmin/guest artist!reader/idol!Chan x reader △

wc: ~1.1k (part 1?)

rating: angst to fluff

Day 5 of Seungmin's birthday oneshot countdown!

It's a few more weeks at the most, maybe longer, and after that...he'll probably never see you, or talk to you again. The planning stages of this was fun, he admits, and all eight of you sitting around the table talking to you on speakerphone; the excitement in everyone's eyes and voices was contagious. And of course Seungmin is excited...it's you. He's been a fan of yours for as long as he can remember, so having the opportunity to work alongside you, and maybe even sing with you? It’s a dream come true.

That's the problem.

He hasn't slept properly in a few days, and he's feeling very puffy and tired. There's only so much he can do now to prepare himself. He took a cold shower this morning, drank as much water as he could handle, but after that he couldn't stomach more than half of his iced coffee. It's still in his hand, numb from the almost melted ice, and dripping steadily on the floor. You're somewhere in this building right now, and you could walk in with the others at any moment.

Time to turn off. Turn off or make a complete ass of himself.

/ / /

You feel a little awkward as you walk toward the meeting room...recording studio? You actually have no clue where you're going, but you're flanked by two much taller men you don't know, and in front of you is Chan, who was a little red in the face when he was talking to you and asking you to call him Chris. So you do.

"Chris?"

He turns and smiles at you, and it's so...something you can't and refuse to deal with right now, you think. No. It's cute, and it's shy. The photos you've seen of him before today really did nothing for him, even the good ones. But you're a professional, and you are very good at acting professional when needed. Even when sweet, attractive men are involved.

"Yeah, all good?"

"Good, yeah! Where are we headed? Should I be mentally preparing to meet everyone?"

"Yes, definitely start preparing right now"

One more right turn and something about the door up ahead feels like the one. Meeting suite 1411. That's the one. Chris opens the door and moves aside to let you in first, and the room is empty, or appears to be. Security fell back and took up guard at the end of the hallway (unnecessary and embarrassing, you told Chris when they appeared).

"Oh, nobody is here...okay." He checks his phone and scrunches his nose, and you kind of feel like kissing it. "I'm sorry, I guess everyone ignored the group chat this morning."

"That's alright, are they somewhere else?"

"It's possible, but..." he points to the table filled with snacks and drinks. "I don't wanna drag you around looking for them." The phone is to his ear, and you hear it ringing, and ringing...

"I can wait here if you have to go find them. I already see a coffee carafe with my name on it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I haven't had enough coffee or stare at my phone time this morning, anyway. And my friends are down the hall."

He smiles so big, you have to return is just as enthusiastically. Maybe he'll turn up his flirting, and you won't have to feel as responsible for your own.

"I'll be right back"

Chris turns on his heel and is gone, and the room is so quiet. Maybe you should put some music on. Before anything, you look over the catering and wonder if anyone will actually have time to enjoy this. The coffee and lemon water, sure, but this is actually a full-course meal in front of you. Just as you fill your cup with coffee, you hear music...but you don't think you pushed play yet.

No, definitely not, because it's your voice that you're hearing. You turn toward it, and jump when you see him standing there, almost mid-step, one hand reaching to pull at his earlobe. His eyes are wide, but other than that...he seems less surprised to see you than you are to see him. But he does at least pause the music.

"Hello," you say, hoping to get him to come a little closer. Whoever he is, and you feel like you should remember all of their names by now, he looks a little annoyed that he now has to share this space and this coffee with someone else. "My eyesight isn't great even with the contacts... I don't bite."

"Hi," he takes a few steps toward you, and you watch his long legs move in his shorts and socks and clean black converse. "I'm–"

"No, I can remember...give me a second"

He does, but he doesn't seem happy about it. This one doesn't have the carefree smile that Chris did, or the shy demeanor. It's a bit distracting, the way his lips purse into a heart, and the way his big brown eyes look down at you. His hair falls perfectly in front of his eyes, but you're pretty sure he woke up looking this good.

"Oh..." it comes to you, sort of. "You're the puppy, aren't you?" You think you see the ghost of a smile on his lips, but it's gone so quickly. "Seungmin."

"Yes, I'm the puppy. And also Seungmin."

The puppy persona fits him, at least physically. His face is soft and round, his big brown eyes turn every so slightly downward, and his ears—something about the way his ears sit on his head, is so... "it's nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise"

Seungmin holds out his hand for you. You do the same, and he takes it so gently. His touch and his mien don't seem to match, and you wonder if the first impression isn't the one to remember for this one.

/ / /

Seungmin finally takes a deep breath when you turn and head toward the coffee again, and he watches as you very carefully add the smallest amount of milk and sugar to it. He finally finished his, so maybe he should make himself another cup. It gives him a reason to rejoin you instead of standing here looking like an idiot.

"Have you met everyone else, or just me?" What a stupid question, he thinks. "I mean, I'm sure you met someone...you're here."

"I met Chris. He left to go find all of you, but you must be the only one who read the message and listened."

"Yes, I saw the message. I like to be on top of things."

The way his voice lowers as he speaks sends a little shiver up your arms. Seungmin likes to be on top of things, and you love catching an innuendo wherever you can. You smirk, but wipe it from your face when you think he might be looking at you.

Seungmin sees the smile pull at your lips and then disappear immediately. "What?"

"Nothing,” you laugh. “I don’t think you talked much on the calls, did you?”

“I did not speak much, I don’t have too much creative say. I have some, it just depends on what we’re doing.”

“Well, it’s tough getting in there with eight of you, I’m sure. Everyone can’t be everywhere…too many cooks in the kitchen.”

Seungmin allows himself to laugh at that, but he stifles it a little and turns away. You’re as cute and relaxed in person as you seem in interviews, and on stage, and it’s a little overwhelming. He can’t let himself do this—he can’t get himself into something he won’t be able to escape. But he seems to remember reading something about a possible relationship you’ve gotten yourself into. Thinking about that breaks his heart a little, but it’ll at least help keep him away.

None of that matters, though. Why would you have any interest in him in the first place?

“Do you want coffee? How do you take it?”

Dammit, okay… “black is good.”

[tomorrowxtogether]

Tomorrow X Together's Yeonjun on solo release: 'I'm going to keep challenging myself'

Yeonjun of popular K-pop group Tomorrow X Together isn't one to shy away from a challenge. Over the last five years, the Korean performer has built a reputation alongside his four bandmates as a versatile all-rounder who can execute any choreography or genre thrown his way.

"When I was young, I just purely loved music and dance, and that love is all I had. After it became my career, music became a source of both joy and sometimes stress for me," Yeonjun tells USA TODAY. "Still, I feel like music takes such a big part of my life. I think music is what allows me to be really free and really express myself as I am."

Now, the 25-year-old is taking a new step in his evolving career. Yeonjun released his first solo mixtape, "GGUM," Sept. 19.

"I'm super excited, but at the same time, I'm kind of nervous," he says. "This is my first time doing a solo project, I do feel a bit of a pressure, and I feel responsible for doing a good job."

Curating 'GGUM' and its concept

"I'm always looking for opportunities to expand my artistry, expand my different musical performances," Yeonjun shares. "During the middle of the US tour, we started talking about this project, and we slowly built on that."

"GGUM" and its feature track highlight Yeonjun's vibrant tonality. The hip-hop inspired song is bold and dynamic, commanding attention from the second you hit play. So how'd it get its name?

"I was actually chewing on gum when I was in the car, and it just came to me all of a sudden," Yeonjun reveals.

When you're chewing gum, you can exude a certain swagger and confidence, he says. "I think that vibe really suited me well, and I thought it was a perfect concept for my first solo project," Yeonjun adds.

"GGUM" is striking in its lyrics, sonics and performance – "Blow and spit out a banger, this song's now stuck in your head," Yeonjun raps. His flow is fierce and unfaltering, while the choreography is kinetic and intense. Yeonjun helped develop the track's dance.

Facing challenges solo: 'It was no walk in the park'

Yeonjun's first solo project tested his mettle.

"Honestly speaking, I thought I was ready for this, but then I realized after working on it, that it was no walk in the park," he shares.

"It was really difficult. It was very challenging to do the vocals, the rap and the dance all at once. I tried doing everything at the same time. It's very tiring. So while working on the choreo and the song, I came to really respect solo artists," Yeonjun adds.

But Yeonjun's experiences with a group helped him along the way. "I think only because I am part of Tomorrow X Together – and I've been through so much together with them – that's why I could try this. I could take on this challenge," he says.

"If I weren't in the team, I don't think this would have been possible," Yeonjun adds.

Even though Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Hueningkai are not performing alongside him, Yeonjun felt their support.

"I did feel a lot of stress, a lot of pressure, sometimes to the point that it almost scared me. Whenever I was met with those emotions, the bandmates would come to me, they would give me a lot of words of encouragement and boost my self-confidence and self-assurance," he says. "Thanks to them, I could pull it off and finish this journey."

Yeonjun vows to 'keep challenging myself'

Yeonjun hopes "GGUM" can be a "pleasant shock to everyone." He has already established his identity through TXT, but this mixtape allows him peel back another layer.

"I hope that the people would feel that I'm bringing something new to the table," Yeonjun says. "I think it's a new start for me and a new challenge that I took on. It really means the world to me."

Yeonjun will continue to build upon the foundation he has previously laid, whether it's with Tomorrow X Together or on his own.

"I want to keep pushing my musical boundaries and make sure that I expand my artistic spectrum, and I'm going to keep challenging myself," he says.

[my-mt-heart]

Putting the "ew" in EW

There are a lot of things wrong with the article, but let's start with the glaringly obvious...

Instead of letting Daryl's and Carol's connection speak for itself and letting fans get excited to see the connection as they've understood it for over a decade, Dalton Ross tries to project his own POV onto us, overemphasizing a platonic friendship as if it's the only right answer and ignoring the core of Caryl's fanbase, who are well within reason to want payoff to a romantic love story between Caryl that was earned time and time again in the flagship show. If his goal was to define the relationship for us once and for all, he completely fails. All he's really doing is exposing himself as yet another deeply insecure and toxic middle-aged white man who can't fathom a middle-aged woman with gray hair as a romantic partner for the middle-aged male protagonist. It's ignorant at best and at worst, it's aiding an effort to hurt Melissa's viewership (worth noting that Dalton Ross is one of Gimple's connections). But sadly, his spin is not even the worst problem...

This has to be one of the most ridiculous exchanges between a showrunner and a lead actor that I've ever read, but to cut to the chase, if the former is so disconnected from Daryl that he doesn't know the first thing about how this character forms attachments with others or why it takes him so long and what that says about his relationship with Carol, he shouldn't be the showrunner. That's been clear since S1 and in every interview he does, so at this point, AMC is shooting themselves in the foot the longer they keep him on or even just let him open his mouth.

In case I haven't made myself perfectly clear a million times, I am here for the Daryl I connected with when he became the most loyal and loving man to Carol and his family in the flagship show. I am here for The Book of Carol because I want to watch Carol rise above her trauma as she's risen above so many challenges in her life and I want to watch her finally claim a love she didn't think she was worthy of before, which is true love/romantic love/soulmate love with Daryl (look, I can overemphasize too). I want to watch Melissa McBride, who has also had to rise above so many challenges as a woman in the industry, give one powerful performance after another after another. I want her to get all the praise from fans and critics that she deserves and I want her to have more creative control since she's the one who really knows how to do Carol's story justice. Imagine if all we had to analyze was her own words...

I am so fucking tired of other EPs trying to turn the beautiful things she has to say and the beautiful things she brings to her show into a footnote because they always have to be so overt in their misogyny, ageism, arrogance, and stupidity first. I am fucking tired of feeling unwelcome to a show being marketed as #TWDCARYL when I am both a Carol and a Daryl fan who also ships them together. The perpetual mess doesn't speak to Melissa's value or to her fans' priorities. I will continue to direct my blame at the other EPs, and I need AMC to start doing the same. Stop giving David Zabel, Greg Nicotero, and Scott Gimple a platform. Stop giving into their need to promote themselves. Stop losing viewers over them. Let's get a showrunner who understands Carol's and Daryl's characters as well as their relationship, and here's a new idea, let's get journalists/reviewers who don't try to shove their own insecurities down our throats to cover the aspects of the show that we actually connect with. Believe it or not, those of us who are loudly complaining do want to be here.

[lifblogs]

White Noise

Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 527 Summary: Omega has a great prank in mind, and not everyone is as amused. Author's Note: I'm super burnt out, so I decided to have a little fun and write this fic, which was inspired by my bestie @miss-mouse99! READ ON AO3

Omega kept giggling quietly over dinner, even though she had tried so hard to hide her excitement all day. When Echo first questioned her, she lied it was a joke she’d heard earlier. She had the same answer for the rest of them as well. When she answered with that to Tech who sat across the table he just readjusted his goggles—Omega nearly giggling again—and gave her a discerning look.

“I am not convinced,” he said.

“Well, wait and see then,” she said.

Usually Omega was good at keeping quiet, but with something this fun, this exciting, she didn’t know how to contain herself.

Her exhaustion from the long day tempered her somewhat, and she was all serious as they settled into their bunks to sleep.

Omega stayed up, reading on Tech’s datapad he’d loaned to her for such things, and changed positions every time she felt herself getting tired.

When a good hour had passed, and she figured they were all asleep, Omega snuck from her room, and over to Tech’s bunk. He only slept with his goggles on if he had fallen asleep while working, so grabbing the recorder from them was no problem at all.

Recorder in hand, Omega snuck back to her room.

She had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing when she connected the recorder to the datapad, and set it up for what she needed.

Omega pressed a button.

The sound of purrgil suddenly filled the Marauder.

With the volume high, everyone woke with a start, Echo even cursing accidentally.

Omega quickly got under her blanket, making it seem like she’d been there the whole time.

The loud song of the purrgil continued to fill the ship.

“What the—what is that?” Hunter asked.

Omega fake-yawned. “Oh, it’s white noise to help me sleep.”

She almost laughed as Tech crossed his arms.

“White”—purrgil interruption—”noise?”

“What is white noise?” Wrecker asked.

“That’s really loud,” Echo commented.

“Sorry,” Omega said. “I can lower it.”

“This helps you sleep?” Hunter asked, looking incredulous.

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’re joking,” he said.

“Nope.”

“Hey, you stole my recorder,” Tech exclaimed.

“I’m just trying to get some good sleep,” she argued.

Echo came over, and grabbed the datapad and recorder. She reached out for them, but he pulled them back.

He turned the sounds off, and then handed them back to Tech.

“Please,” Echo said. “No more white noise.”

Omega sighed dramatically. “Fine. But now I’ll never sleep. You really want me to be sleep-deprived?”

“You’re laying it on thick,” Hunter said.

“Fine,” she relented. “Now go to bed.”

“You go to bed,” Wrecker told her.

She waved him off, giggling.

At that, Hunter started laughing too.

“All right, I’ll admit it; you got us good, Omega.”

She popped her head up.

“Really?”

“Yes, now actually get some sleep. You look like you stayed up just to prank us.”

“I did,” she announced proudly.

Her chest warmed as he smiled, shaking his head. “Please, just go to bed. Or are you going to wake us in an hour with tooka noises?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Gundarks.”

Everyone groaned, and Omega laughed maniacally.

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met? - Chapter 15

Ch. 15 | Ao3

Thank you @witch-and-her-witcher and @popjunkie42 I love you!

[Some NSFW content and a dash of horror! Enjoy!]

For a while, their days and nights were exactly the same, something so horrific starting to feel commonplace as they neared the end of the second week. The first task was coming, and everyone could feel it in the buzz of the air. Amarantha had said nothing to them in the way of a time frame, likely hoping the element of surprise would work against them, but the hum of anxiety and excitement in the air belied the truth. 

The days ran together, the hours hard to track without the sun. It left her feeling a little crazy, and disoriented that her body and the anxiety contained within it would spike, clock or no, as they neared time to go to the throne room each night. But still, Feyre treasured every moment she spent with Rhys, even in that place. Even with the time lost, she was keeping her mind and body as busy as possible, keeping herself focused on other things and doing her best to move forward through each day. 

Feyre would wake up with Rhys curled tightly around her, they’d eat breakfast, train as much as they could get away with before sunrise, pack away additional food, and then he’d winnow her down to the dungeons. She’d bring that food to Calla, then also give Calla her portion from the guards. Calla looked exhausted, but Feyre and Rhys were doing their best to keep her fed well and her spirit buoyed as they ambled towards the first task. 

“Are you sleeping at all?” 

“There’s a lot of screaming at night, but I’m okay.” Feyre was worried, but despite seeming tired, Calla was clearly trying to remain upbeat. They’d had a chance to discuss Feyre’s magic in more detail as they scrubbed the floors one day. After talking it over with Rhys, Feyre had chosen to only disclose that she could occasionally speak in others’ heads along with the fire magic. True to her nature, Calla had been openly annoyed that Feyre had kept it from her. 

“Did the curse keep you from telling me about that, too?” she’d bit out as her scrubbing became nearly violent.

“No, but I had only told Lucien and Tamlin the night before the attor came.”

“So not another secret you were all keeping from me then?” Calla refused to look at her when she asked, focusing all her attention on the grimy floor in front of them that she was scrubbing raw. 

The comment stung, but Feyre deserved it. She focused on turning the murky water clean in a manner so agonizingly slow that Calla wouldn’t notice. She felt guilty, but she was still keeping secrets for everyone’s sake. Calla didn’t know how to guard her mind–if any other daemati happened to join Amarantha’s court, it would take nothing to breach the walls of her thoughts. Truly, if Feyre hadn’t slipped to speak in Calla’s mind in the throne room, she likely would have kept that from her, too. She wondered if she should be concerned with how easy it was to explain all this away, but it was for the good of everyone, even if it made her feel like shit. 

“No, Calla. I’m sorry.” Calla sighed, her shoulders dropping, but she said nothing more. 

Most of the time was spent in companionable silence, Feyre not sure how to go about repairing the trust that had been broken while still finding companionship within the trauma they were suffering. 

“Are you doing okay?” Calla asked. Feyre was shocked by the question. 

“I’m okay. All of this is so overwhelming, but being here,” she lowered her voice to barely a whisper, “with him. It’s all I’ve wanted for so long that it doesn’t feel real, even amongst all the horrors.” It was true. Feyre almost felt selfish for the joy that she was getting to experience amongst all this misery. Calla stopped scrubbing to put a hand on her thigh.  

“He healed me when no one else came. As long as he is good to you, I don’t care about the rest.” 

Feyre hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to hear it, tossing her own brush into the half-clean water and throwing her arms around Calla’s neck. Calla froze for a moment before returning the hug. 

“We can make it out of here. We can.” Feyre wasn’t sure if her words were meant more for Calla or herself, but she said them with conviction anyway.

+++

Aside from the daily chores, Feyre and Rhys were allowed more time than she’d dared to hope for. Every afternoon, she’d return to his room, spending the few moments she could with him while Nuala and Cerridwen prepared her for court. She didn’t miss the way his eyes roved over her hungrily each night, the desire in them so thinly veiled he might as well have come out and said it to her face. 

Despite that, all they’d done since her arrival was kiss, quite passionately at times, and Feyre was jumping out of her skin. She ached to run her fingers along his skin, her body seeming to reach out for his every time they were near each other. But she knew what Rhys had gone through, knew what he was still going through, and she would give him the right to choose when he was ready for more with her. 

Despite the requirement for their presence every night at court, it had provided them with some excellent quality time to talk while she sat at his feet or in his lap as his toy. Occasionally, she would dance for him like the courtesans that filled the halls once dinner had been put away and entertainment brought in. She’d been shy at first, the thought of what all those human suitors back at home might have thought edging her mind with shame. But at the feral, possessive look in Rhys’s eyes despite his nonchalant expression, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of enjoyment at the activity. Knowing that she had that power over him, the ability to send small cracks through that mask he’d perfected for so long, left her feeling confident beyond measure. At first, the high fae had giggled and pointed, but then, after a night or two, it had become as normal and commonplace as everything else, exactly as they’d been hoping. People lost interest in Rhys and Feyre and what they were doing, and it allowed them more freedom to sit and speak mind to mind for the hours they were expected there. 

Rhys told her all about the way they’d been trapped there, the details that Vincent hadn’t known well enough to share with her becoming clearer. He told her about how with the last dregs of waning power, he’d cast the strongest protective spell he could over his home, warning his family and effectively trapping them there to keep them safe. 

Tell me about your family. She glanced sidelong at him as she asked, and though she could hear his longing sigh in her mind, his face remained impassive, almost cocky as he surveyed the crowd while she sat at his feet. 

Morrigan, Mor, is my cousin by blood, born and escaped from the horrors of the Hewn City. You and her are going to get on impossibly well, I can already tell. I’m sure you’ll both be driving us up the wall in no time. 

Feyre thought she might like her a lot, too. 

And Amren is a terrifying creature millenia older than all of us trapped in a teeny tiny fae body. We try not to piss her off when we can help it. She cares a lot about us though, in her own way. I think that the two of you will get along nicely. I’m certain you’ll have earned points with her already for your grit and determination. 

Feyre loved that Rhys spoke of their time together in the future as though it were a sure thing. It gave her so much hope to see him imagining her meeting his family, blending with them as though it was a certainty. 

Cassian and Azriel are my brothers. They’re Illyrian, so they have these massive wings. 

Feyre was intrigued by that--she tried to picture it. 

Like a bat? She could hear Rhys’s rolling chuckle in her head. 

Much larger than a bat. The Illyrians are the Night Court’s most fearsome warriors, and they make up a majority of Prythian’s aerial forces. But Az and Cass are my brothers–we met in Illyria during my time training–the half breed and the bastards. Truly, you remind me a bit of Cassian. 

It was Feyre’s turn to laugh. I remind you of a fearsome, winged warrior? Did you drink the wine tonight?

No, smart ass. You have that same spirit, that unbreakable hope and stubbornness of will. And I can see so clearly the way you dream. They way you fight for something more. In truth, I see a bit of all my family in you. I know that they’re going to love you. 

I can’t wait to meet them. 

Feyre paused, wondering again about his home. She’d seen the maps of the Night Court when she was in Spring, remembered the separateness of it all and wondered what part of it Rhys lived in when he hadn’t been trapped here. She remembered the way he’d told her about the mountains of the ring she wore, glamoured here to be invisible. He’d said they were representative of his home. If he’d thrown wards up to hide it like he said, perhaps it wasn’t on any maps she’d seen.

Where do you live in the Night Court? 

Rhys paused a moment, not speaking immediately as he had been. She could feel a rush of nerves through his mind straight down through her chest, as though the emotions were her own. 

Will you let me show you?

Of course. 

She felt the gentle caress of him against her mind, pushing just past where they spoke, and she bit back a gasp as she felt their thoughts meld into one. Suddenly, she was soaring, the scene in front of her no longer the macabre visage of the throne room Under the Mountain, but the sprawling white-tipped mountains of a city far away. 

The stars shone like diamonds above them, the sky fading from a periwinkle at the horizon to the shades of deep navy, plum, and burgundy above. She felt the exhilaration as the wind whipped at her face, her eyes drawn down to the city of lights below, wrapped like a gift by the gentle, winding curve of a long and lovely river. She could smell the rich spices and cooking foods from the city below, hear the peals of laughter and feel the joy of the citizens. The air smelled like citrus and the salt of the sea–it smelled like Rhys. It smelled like home. 

The city was cradled on the other side by mountains of the deepest red clay, the lights twinkling from it as though a dwelling had been carved directly into the face of it. As she drew closer, she could see that’s exactly what it was: a home carved into the smooth face of the mountain, and she was nearly to the balcony of it. 

She dropped in the sky, circling around as the people below came into view. A beautiful female with flowing blonde hair, smiling and waving excitedly. A petite female next to her with a black bob and goblet full of dark liquid, looking imperious except for the relieved glint in her eyes as she looked up. Finally, she saw two winged males, exiting the massive double doors and shoving at each other while they laughed. Her heart leapt into her throat to behold them all there, all smiling up at her. 

A word flashed through her mind that wasn’t her own, a sigh on the breeze. 

Home . 

She blinked and she was back in the throne room, her eyes feeling strangely misty as she drew in breath. 

That is your home? It looked like nothing she’d seen on the maps or books of Night. 

That is Velaris, the City of Starlight. Mine and my family’s home. 

It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. 

You won’t find it on any maps , he said as though reading her mind. Centuries of High Lords have kept it guarded from the world, and I have kept that tradition up. I sacrificed myself here to make sure Amarantha never found out.

Thank you for sharing it with me, Rhys. 

I can’t wait to share it with you in more than just memory. Feyre felt her heart clench again at the longing and determination in his voice. 

Home. 

More than anything, she hoped that he was right. 

+++

When they arrived at court the following night, something was different. The tables were not set out for dinner, and Amarantha already sat on her throne, the crowd full and flush with high court and low court fae alike. Strangely, Tamlin was nowhere to be found, the seat beside her vacant. Feyre steeled herself, ready for whatever horrors might be coming–a change in routine here typically meant something gruesome. 

But instead, the crowds were focused on Rhys. She schooled her face, looking ahead as they parted. 

“Rhysand,” Amarantha’s voice rang out above the near-silent crowd of fae. “Come here.” 

Stay close to me.

He put a guiding hand on her arm, securing it more roughly when he remembered people were watching, then walked them towards the throne. As the crowd parted, they saw a male, a high fae, sobbing on the floor. His beautiful, dark skin was shining with sweat and tears, and even with the walls high in her mind, Feyre could feel the anguish washing off him. 

Amarantha did not deign to look at Feyre or Rhys as they approached, her predator’s smile locked in on the male on the floor. 

Remain at the edge of the crowd. If something goes wrong, find Lucien. 

Feyre did as he said, reluctant to leave him alone, her heart thundering in her chest. 

Amarantha finally turned her eyes to Rhys as he stopped at the foot of the dais, sketching a low bow. 

“My queen.” 

“Rhysand. The Summer fae,” she said of the male cowering at her feet, “tried to escape through the exit to the Spring Court lands. I want to know why.” Feyre knew Amarantha would be using Rhys to break into this male’s mind, cracking him piece by piece until he gave the information she wanted. She felt a crush of guilt in her chest. Was it because she could easily do the same? She had that same power beating through her body right this moment, and yet, the entirety of the burden fell on Rhys. 

Rhys slid his hands into his pockets and sauntered closer to the male on the ground. The Summer faerie cringed, his face shining with tears and the sobs choking out of him in croaking breaths. Feyre wondered how much information Amarantha had gotten on her own before they had arrived. The fae turned his eyes down, and Feyre looked away as he wet himself while Rhys grew closer. 

Gods, but they feared him.  

She was glad Rhys was turned away from her while he approached the male. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see the feral smile on his face matched with the pain she was certain she’d find in his eyes. 

“P-p- please ,” the male gasped out. 

Feyre could hear the silence around her, the air so quiet that it felt thick. She took the opportunity to scan the crowd, finding Lucien across from her, a short sprint away if things went awry. Halfway between the two of them stood a lovely young fae male, the same dark skin as the one kneeling on the floor. However, this fae had hair the soft white of the sand on the beaches her father had visited and told her about when he'd brought her home that shell. It seemed centuries ago, an entirely separate lifetime. 

She recognized this male though, from the books in Spring. It was Tarquin, the High Lord of Summer. That's why he looked so young–he'd been instated when his court had rebelled. Rhys stopped short in front of the fae, tilting his head to the side as he looked down into the broken male’s eyes.  She could tell Rhys was inside of his mind when he fell silent, his shaking ceasing as he slumped to the ground. 

Tarquin stood as still as stone, and his face was contorted with the true pain of seeing someone die from what was likely his own machinations. He was young, new in this position. Feyre wondered if he'd ever had to make choices that cost him lives before. He looked sick to his stomach. 

Rhys spoke and Feyre nearly jumped; she'd been so lost in her own thoughts. 

“He wanted to escape. To get to the Spring Court, cross the wall, and flee south into human territory. He had no accomplices, no motive beyond his own pathetic cowardice.” 

A lie. 

Feyre knew it, though Rhys’s voice remained steady and nonchalant. She could see Tarquin’s whole body deflate, as though sighing in relief. And Feyre knew what Rhys had risked, what he’d lied for. 

Amarantha simply huffed as she slumped back in her throne, resting her head back against the backrest. 

“ Fine. Shatter him, Rhysand. Then Tarquin can take the body.” The High Lord of the Summer Court bowed as if he’d been given a gift. The unnamed male from Summer had gone entirely still on the floor–Feyre was shocked to find him looking relieved . Rhys took his right hand from his pocket, letting it hang limply at his side, the only movement a slight curling of his fingers.

“Hurry it along, Rhysand. I grow bored.” Feyre felt guilty at the relief that Amarantha’s attention was not on her. 

Feyre watched closely as darkness, the full force of night, seemed to wrap itself around Rhysand’s shoulders as his fingers curled into a fist. The male on the floor went boneless, his entire body crumbling down into the puddle beneath him, blood pooling from his ears and eyes. 

Rhys had killed him. 

“I said shatter his mind, not his brain,” Amarantha snapped. She was visibly irritated, her dark red brows furrowed in agitation. The crowd murmured and rustled around Feyre, but her attention was on Rhys, still holding himself as though it were just any other day. He shrugged, putting his hand back in his pocket and looking up at the throne. 

“Apologies, my queen.” He was already walking away, back to that chair in the far corner of the room. Feyre hustled to catch up to him, falling in step right behind him so as to not raise suspicion. The crowd parted for them as though they were on fire, the berth so wide it would have been comical in any other situation. Rhys didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t acknowledge anyone around them, just walked with his shoulders still loose as though he had all the time in the world. 

That killing had been a mercy, and whatever he had seen in the male’s mind, Rhys had lied. Lied to save others, lied to spare Tarquin. The High Lord of Summer had known it, and so had the male about to die. It was why he’d looked so relieved, so ready. Rhys had spared them all, taken pity on all their lives and shown mercy. And yet, everyone here tonight would view him through the lens of the monster he’d made himself out to be. 

Rhys didn’t stop until he reached the table full of food and wine, servants now milling about and refilling it each time something was taken. This was clearly in lieu of the dinner they’d forsaken for Amarantha’s entertainment tonight. Rhys grabbed a goblet from a serving boy and drained it in one gulp, grabbing two more and handing one to her. 

They moved to his seat, her choosing to sit on his lap instead of the floor tonight. She ached to take his hand, to comfort him in some way, but the physical proximity would have to do. For the first time, she took a sip of the faerie wine, the taste sharp and somehow still sweet on her tongue. Perhaps it would help a bit to forget. 

The night went on in a blur of movement and drinking, Feyre sticking to only one cup and still feeling nearly out of her mind while Rhys threw back goblet after goblet, drinking himself into oblivion. They didn’t speak, not even mind to mind, and Feyre didn’t push, choosing to respect his space and be there for him when he was ready. But she hadn’t anticipated how lonely it would feel without his presence in her mind. His soft voice and low, rumbling laugh while they discussed any and everything had become so commonplace during their nights here, she felt empty without it. Her chest felt hollow and she wondered if she’d ever felt so alone, even though she was warming his lap beneath her. 

By the time it was acceptable to leave, Rhys was hardly able to function. He missed the winnow three times, dumping them into multiple hallways before finally landing in the room. As soon as they did, he waved his hand to lock the door and set up the sound shield, slumping back onto the bed and falling to his back. He was a sight, and Feyre decided to return the favor of running a hot bath for him, assuming he didn’t pass out before she’d returned. Once she’d lit the candles and filled the tub to the brim with steaming water, she returned to get Rhys. 

At first, she wondered if he had fallen asleep, his hands pressed over his eyes as though blocking out the low light. But then she saw the glint of the tears on his face.

He had been crying. 

She approached the bed, gently touching her hand to his as he pulled back, his bloodshot, wild eyes meeting hers as though he was surprised to see her there.

“Come on, to the bath.” She pulled him up, her hand grasped in his as she led him to the washroom. She untucked his shirt, pulling it from his waistband and undoing the buttons, then easing it off his shoulders. She unbuttoned his trousers, bending down as she removed those, too, then pulling his socks from his feet one by one until he was left in front of her in only his undershorts. She removed those too, his body shuddering beneath her fingers as they brushed his skin. 

“In you go.” Her voice was gentle, and he stepped into the steaming waters. 

“Don’t leave.” His voice sounded stronger than Feyre had anticipated, but that edge of need in it stopped her short right before the door. 

“You want me to stay with you?” He nodded. “Out here or with you?”

“With me. Please.” Feyre didn’t say any more, simply stripped off the scraps of fabric and belt and stepped into the bath with him, settling across from him in the tub and meeting his eyes across the water as the paint bled off her skin and into the steaming bath. The pain on his face nearly debilitated her, knocking the wind from her lungs and filling her with such a powerful sense of hurt and guilt and shame and rage that she gasped for air. 

“You saved Tarquin tonight, didn’t you?” Rhys’s eyes locked on hers as he nodded again. “It was a bigger plot?”

“Yes.” 

“You chose to save that male a life of suffering. You took his pain, didn’t you?”

“But I still killed him.” 

“You showed him mercy.”

“I am a monster.” She swam across the tub and found his arms open and waiting for her. He pulled her into his lap, turning her and resting his chin on her bare shoulder. She could feel the rasping exhale and ragged inhale of his breath on her. 

“You are no monster, Rhysand.” 

“You don’t know me, Feyre.”

“I do, though. I do know you.” She turned, tipping her head back to look into his eyes, pressing her lips to his. He was still for a moment, her lips eclipsing his before he relented, moving against her as though resisting the temptation were entirely beyond the realm of possibility. 

I do know you, Rhys. A monster would not have shown mercy.

He gasped against her lips at her voice in his mind. 

I do not deserve you, Feyre. But I will selfishly keep you as long as you let me. 

Forever, then. She could hear him sigh in her mind, his body going slack finally, the tension starting to melt off of him. 

Forever. 

+++

Feyre could tell it annoyed the guards that she was able to complete her tasks each day, and always early. They were too stupid to tell she was using magic, and Feyre was being far too careful to get caught. Even when she reached the point where she could have done the chores with a snap of her fingers, she paced herself, whittling the time away until it seemed more realistic. 

Each day, they came up with something more stupid and tedious, and each day Feyre thought through a way she might make it easier to complete. Between time speaking mind to mind in court and time spent in their room together, Feyre had been able to train more with her magic since arriving. She’d had a good enough handle on the powers before coming Under the Mountain to impress Rhys, but to be fair, he always acted awed at anything she did. It was a lot easier to practice with someone else than just alone in her tub, though, and getting to flex her powers a bit every day was certainly helping to strengthen them. 

Today, the guards led her deep into the mountain down dark hallways that reminded her of her first day there. The walls were more roughly hewn here, the air damp and heavy. Every room held a heavy iron door similar to the ones in the dungeons, but they were much closer together than the room she stayed in with Rhysand. She wondered what designated where people would stay here, how the mountain itself could possibly hold all the people currently living there. 

An abrupt turn led them into a massive, dark bedroom. It looked unused, an unassuming layer of dust across all the surfaces. As Feyre’s eyes adjusted, she could see there were no real items of personality to be found, simply some old stacked boxes, and a sword with so much dust on the pommel that a spider had strung its web between it and the wall. 

“Today you’ll be cleaning the fireplace. A servant spilled lentils in the ash.” Feyre wondered what a servant had been doing in here since it didn’t look particularly clean, but she kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t too ignorant to tell that the guards and Amarantha used these daily tasks to screw with her–she was certain they’d just tossed a bag of lentils in this morning. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Clean it up before the occupant returns, or he’ll peel off your skin in strips.” That got her attention. 

“Someone lives here?” The guards sneered at her and laughed, slamming the heavy iron door behind them as they left. Feyre rushed to it and bolted the lock as soon as they did. 

Peeling off skin in strips?? Whose room was this?

She wondered if she should try to call out for Rhys, but she wasn’t sure how far the connection stretched. Certainly by now everyone knew he was using her as his property. Surely they’d know he would be irritated at least if someone touched her instead? Rhys wasn’t exactly portraying himself as someone who liked to share. 

The thought reassured her, but she still scoped out the situation in the hearth so she could start getting to business. There were so many lentils in the dark fireplace that the little rounded dots blurred together before her eyes. There was hardly any light to see by, either, which made picking them out more difficult. She sighed, calling on her magic to find it…lethargic. A wash of panic came over her then. 

Oh no.  

She pulled again, calling from that now-familiar well inside of her. 

Nothing. 

A tiny, distant hum of nothing. Not even enough to conjure fire in her hand to light more candles. 

This was not good. 

Feyre pushed the panic down, reached into the fireplace, and began digging. 

Two hours later and her eyes were burning and aching, the joints in her hands feeling tender and swollen from the meticulous picking through the ash. Every time she thought she’d reached the end, there were always more she found–a never ending task that was exhausting her, her stress so palpable that she’d begun shaking and never stopped. 

With no magic, she couldn’t call Rhys. With no magic, she couldn’t finish this task or defend herself. No wonder Calla always looked so exhausted. 

The guards hadn’t specified how long she’d have to complete the task, and she was terrified that the owner would be back any moment. Who could it possibly be? One of the High Lords, perhaps? They’d all looked so stern and unforgiving in court. If anything, though, she knew the one from Autumn was the most bloodthirsty. She sent up a little prayer to the Mother that it wouldn’t be him. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the turning of the lock, Feyre whipping around and grabbing the wrought iron fire poker to defend herself. 

Surely none would dare hurt her , she reassured herself. She was in the deal with Amarantha. But her thoughts stuttered there. Was she, actually? Calla was. But to the court member’s knowledge, Feyre was nothing more than a slut for the High Lord of Night. Would they think she would perform for them, too? 

A racing darkness entered the room, the candles blowing out as though a strong gale had blown through. The door never opened, despite the clicking of the lock, and Feyre’s breath caught in her throat as she gripped the fire poker tightly in her hand. She would not go down without a fight. 

The darkness settled on the bed, nearly glittering in what was left of the low light, and Feyre’s shoulders slumped as a familiar, grinning figure materialized on the bed like some trickster of lore. 

“Rhys,” she breathed. “Thank the gods.” She was so relieved to see him she was nearly lightheaded with it. 

“As wonderful as it is to see you, Feyre, darling,” Rhysand said, sprawled on the bed, his head propped up by a hand, “do I want to know why you’re digging through my old fireplace?” He seemed to be in a much lighter mood today, and Feyre was relieved to see it.

“They said I had to clean out lentils from the ashes, or you’d rip off my skin.” 

“Did they now?” A feline smile crossed his face, a perfect brow lifting, and Feyre couldn’t help the heat that settled in her stomach. In another world, she wondered how this cat and mouse game might go. She wondered if Rhys might have still chased her without having met her outside of all this. Would she have let him having only seen him as a villain? She shuddered at the thought, but the reaction was not born of fear. 

“Do I have you to thank for this idea?” She cocked her head playfully at him.

“Oh, no,” he drawled. “This is my old room. I almost never use it any more. I came in today simply because I was told to vacate the rest of my items for a new tenant. I'd moved to the other one higher in the mountains years ago. I use this one only for storage purposes. I'm truly surprised no one else has moved in before now.” This room was bigger than the one they shared, but farther from the court. She didn’t know where Amarantha’s quarters were, and she didn’t want to know if the implications were what she thought they were. 

 “Is this clean enough for you?” She gestured back to the fireplace teasingly. He took in the pile of lentils and her dirty appearance.

“Why were there lentils in my fireplace to begin with?” 

She gave him a flat look. “To toy with me, I’m certain.” 

“Hm,” he said, sitting up on the bed.

“What's her goal here? She knows you and I are together every night, why put me here?”

“Likely more torture for Lucien. She asked if I was enjoying this the other night. I might have implied I had a few more sick plans for you, to which she seemed delighted. Perhaps she’s just giving me the opportunity.” 

Feyre immediately went on edge. “Or setting a trap for you.” 

Rhys suddenly cast out his power, sitting all the way up on the edge of the bed, the darkness snaking around the room as though searching for something. He furrowed his brow as it wrapped around the room, skirting over the walls and then pulling back into him. 

“No magic is spying on us here; nothing is listening or tracking as far as I can tell.” He cast what Feyre now recognized as a sound shield anyway. 

“I couldn’t use my magic here.”

“I cast a damper when I lived here,” he grinned. “Only I can use magic in this room. Now, are you going to put down that poker, or can I expect you to start swinging soon?” Feyre had forgotten entirely about the fire poker, laughing lightly as she leaned it against the wall. Rhys stood from the bed, walking slowly towards her. 

“So vicious, my Feyre.” His voice was low and predatory, the tone of it entirely changed. Feyre’s stomach fluttered, her heart racing as he closed the space between them. 

“A valiant effort, but useless,” he said. Why did the words turn her on so much? 

“How is it that you have such power still and the others don’t? I thought she robbed all of you of your abilities.” 

He lifted a groomed, dark brow, now only inches away from her. “Oh, she took my powers. This…” A caress of talons against my mind. Feyre sighed into it, back meeting the stone of the fireplace behind her. “This is just the remnant. The scraps I get to play with. Tamlin has brute strength and shape-shifting; my arsenal is a far deadlier assortment. And stronger ” He wasn’t bluffing– he was by far the strongest High Lord, and that did something else to Feyre’s fluttering heart. 

She swallowed, trying to continue talking. “So you can’t shape-shift?”

He stepped closer, his face nearly touching hers as his fingers caressed her jaw and she closed her eyes. 

“So many questions from my little human.” But just as she felt his lips graze hers, just as she was about to give him and press against him, she heard a crack like the snapping of leather or a whip. 

Her eyes shot open in awe, the most unbelievably beautiful set of wings now present on Rhysand’s back, a smile of male pride across his face. These were the wings of his brothers, the wings of the Illyrian aerial forces. They caught the low light, illuminating red through the veins and scars of the membranes that looked velvet soft. 

“Beautiful,” she whispered before she could stop herself, and his expression softened into something different. She reached out to touch one, and he let her, though he shuddered as she pressed her fingers gently down the flesh of it. His eyes closed, his breath inhaling between them. 

“Feyre,” he whispered it like a prayer, his eyes opened but hooded, now shining with something that looked a lot more like lust than anything else. Every nerve ending in Feyre’s body was firing, the intensity of it all lighting her up like the solstice. 

“Well, Feyre, are you going to finish the task, or not?” His voice was rough, hoarse with need. She nodded absently, catching on to his game as his voice sent shivers down her spine. 

“Yes, High Lord,” she said coyly, turning just as she saw his eyes gutter shut again with the words. 

She turned back to the fireplace, jutting her hips back as she did, bending low to the ground again and making a show of it as she knelt. Rhys didn’t say anything, but his sharp exhale made her smile as she ducked back into the hearth. 

She didn’t even hear him move before she felt his warm hands on her back, the teasing touch as his fingers brushed over the thin fabric and up and down her spine. She arched into the movement, swaying her hips and grinning again as he bit back what sounded like a curse. She busied herself with shuffling absently through the ash, though she felt nearly certain there weren’t many more lentils to be found. Rhys’s fingers found purchase beneath her tunic, pushing it up and wandering around the skin of her back and hips while she sighed. When those fingertips met her waistband and tucked into the sides, she wiggled her way out of them as he tugged. She could feel the cold air against the wetness forming between her thighs, the position she was in preventing her from rubbing them together for any form of needed friction. 

“Eager, Feyre?” The low timbre of his voice shot straight down her spine, her heart pounding in her chest as she practically vibrated from the absence of his touch. 

Yes . She jutted her hips out further. She had waited so patiently for him to touch her, to want this intimacy outside of whatever strange Calanmai magic or dreams they had shared before. 

She felt him pause. Had she said the thought aloud? 

Tell me you want this. 

I want this. 

Thank the Gods. And his hands were on her. She felt everything as he gently slid a knuckle up and down her slit, gasping for breath as the touch shot zaps of lightning through her veins. She whined as he pulled away. Just how I remembered. 

She turned in time to see him pulling a finger from his mouth, the movement nearly causing her body to buckle and collapse. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working on something, love?” His voice was nearly a purr in Feyre’s ear, and she whipped her head forward, the remaining lentils in the fireplace taunting her even with her bared lower body exposed to the open air. Rhys didn’t waste time, his fingers back to exploring the second she had turned to the ashes. Feyre absently reached her fingers out, running halfheartedly through the cinder as Rhys ran his broad fingers through the wetness between her legs. She barely caught a breath before he was bent over her back, the solid, warm weight of him barely pressing into her. 

He dipped his fingers in right at her opening, then returned them upwards, her body banking as his fingers circled her clitoris. Feyre was so wet that his fingers easily glided in circles around her, her body already shaking with the sensation of it, her breath coming in short gasps. 

She was so close already, so tortuously close and the magic in her chest began to swirl violently, as though he’d lifted the damper on the room. She could feel everything , the lust, the desire, the pure, unadulterated want suddenly crashing through her and it was impossible to breathe. 

More. 

And Rhys didn’t hesitate, plunging his fingers into her, letting his thumb take over their previous job rubbing tight, quick circles around her as she fell apart. Feyre whimpered and ground back against him, entirely lost to herself and the whims of his fingers. She didn’t even attempt to control herself, letting the sensations guide her. Rhys bent just slightly more, his lips finding her neck and placing kisses on it as she writhed beneath him, the lentils and the fireplace and the task forgotten as he pushed his own hips against her. When he bit down with his sharp teeth on her earlobe, pressing his fingers firm and deep, she was lost. 

Feyre’s whole body quaked with the force of the orgasm he’d pulled from her, his free arm winding beneath her stomach and holding her steady as she came and came and came. It seemed to last forever, the sensation of his fingers slowing and caressing gently as she came down from it all, her body shaking and pulsing and her magic humming like a renewed beast between her ribs. 

They breathed together for a few moments, allowing Feyre to come back to herself and lightly whimpering as he removed himself from her body. He cleaned her gently, lovingly, and when she raised to her feet, he pulled her in to press the softest kiss against her lips. His lovely wings had disappeared, pulled back into his back as though they’d never been there at all.

“But you didn’t get to–” He shook his head, smiled and gripped her hands.

“We will have time. This was perfect.” Feyre chose to believe him, though the need to put her hands on him was becoming overwhelming. He looked down, seeing the soot that covered her hands and arms and his tunic now, as well, snapping his fingers to vanish it all away. The hearth was now cleaned, too, the lentils neatly piled in the provided bucket and the ashes pushed back into the fireplace as though she had done it all alone. 

As if summoned, the door roughly swung open, the guards on the other side stomping in then slamming to a stop once they realized Rhys was present. The panic in their eyes made Feyre smile. 

“She accomplished her task.” They grabbed for Feyre, but Rhys bared his teeth at them, a snarl ripping from him that sent heat flying through Feyre’s entire body. “She'll be staying with me for now.” 

Then, their eyes went vacant, as though they were no longer seeing, their bodies swaying slightly in place. “No more stupid tasks. One task, every three days. Otherwise, I will be taking over her chore assignments. Tell the others, too. Stay out of her cell, and don’t touch her. If you do, you’re to take your own daggers and gut yourselves. This applies to the other prisoner, too. The human. Understood?” 

The guards nodded in synchronicity, their glazed eyes staring out at nothing while Feyre smiled smugly at them. She was glad Rhys had included Calla, too. There was no denying the guilt she felt that Feyre was here, able to train and use magic and eat nourishing meals at a table while Calla all but rotted below. Even with the additional food and blankets and healing and protections, there was no denying the discrepancy in their stations here. It ate at Feyre, but knowing Calla would get a break too, especially as they neared the first task, set her mind at ease. 

As the guards left, the door slamming and bolting by itself behind them, Feyre let her shoulders drop, feeling safe as Rhys pulled her into his arms and winnowed them back to their room. 

+++

The next morning, Rhys woke Feyre gently, his nose nudging into her neck as she sighed. 

She closed her eyes, knowing that they’d soon have to get out of bed and eat and begin the day, but she wanted to savor the few moments in between. They were the moments she could pretend they were elsewhere, one of those lovely, large beds from their shared dreams in a place far away from here. 

Slowly, the two became aware of a rush of sound from the passage that led alongside their room, the voices and footsteps echoing off the walls as though many were passing through it quickly. Feyre turned in Rhys’s arms, looking into his eyes with renewed anxiety. 

The first task.

They shot out of the bed, dressing and throwing the necessary glamours over Feyre. 

“No matter what she faces, Feyre, you must let her. We cannot interfere.” Feyre blanched at his words. She knew he was right, but who knew what was waiting for Calla in the throne room? Could Feyre let her face it alone? Leave her to die? She would have to. 

Rhys put his hands softly on her face, pressing a fierce kiss to her brow. “Promise me, Feyre.” 

“Okay.” She nearly choked on the word. 

He flung open the door, Feyre letting him pull her along the hallways that were now nearly vacant of people. They must have been some of the last to arrive, the news spreading fast in the cave systems throughout this horrid nightmare court. They were not, however, going to the throne room. At the final moment, they cut left, equally massive doors opening into some sort of rock-hewn amphitheater. As they neared the doors to the arena, Feyre could hear the cacophony of sound ramping up to violent levels, hoots and hollers and shrieks that sounded like a crowd about to rip someone apart–thirsty for blood. 

They descended the endless stairs, the crowds jeering and shouting around them, but not focused on them. The attention was all aimed down at the bowl of the arena, a large platform built out to the sides and high fae surrounding it on the sloping walls of the audience. Rhys tugged her along behind him, the crowds dispersing row by row as they continued down, down, down. Amarantha sat on the platform in a new throne, the smaller one beside her holding Tamlin, vacant-eyed and more exhausted than Feyre had ever seen him. For the first time since that first day, it was pity she felt for him instead of resentment. He looked broken, that mask of indifference cracking a million different ways. 

As they approached the platform, Feyre could see five other high fae lined out around the thrones; Tarquin was one she recognized. Rhys took his place in line, her instinct to fall at his feet now second nature in these situations. She kneeled on the floor in front of him, taking in the rest of the motion around her. Even on the busiest nights at court, she hadn’t seen this many fae. Down in front of the platform, at the very center of this arena, was some sort of strange maze, walls of mud and clay seeming to defy gravity and draw upwards. Would they make Calla run this maze?

It wasn’t long before Calla was dragged in by the attor, her body thrown to the muddy ground in front of the platform. She and Feyre made eye contact for a moment, then she looked at Tamlin. Feyre was positioned behind the thrones, so she couldn’t see Tamlin or Amarantha’s faces anymore, but the crowd quieted as their queen began to speak. 

“Well, Calla, it’s time.” Feyre could almost hear the taunting smile on her face. “The first task has arrived. Let’s see how deep that human love and loyalty runs. This task seems fitting for you. I hear you’re a huntress.” 

Calla looked like she wanted to smile, but bit it back at the last moment. She would need that grit, that spirit for what remained. 

“Go ahead, look.” Amarantha goaded, as Calla rose from her knees to lean over the edge and look down. 

What is it?

Rhys didn’t answer, and Feyre didn’t dare turn to look at him. Calla didn’t see the attor coming, and Feyre’s warning scream died in her throat as Calla fell deep into the muddy trenches. In the chaos  and jeering and cheering from the crowd that followed, Feyre got to her feet, joining the people in crowding the edges to peer down into the muddy pit of dug out walls. 

Muddy walls, dark, carved caves. 

The stench was overwhelming. Feces and mud and stagnant water and death. Below, Calla struggled to keep her balance, the mud already swallowing up her legs to the shin as she strived to stay upright. 

“Hunt this,” Amarantha called out from the platform as a great rumbling began beneath their feet. Calla looked back up at Tamlin, and though Feyre couldn’t see his face, she wondered what was happening in his own mind as he beheld what were potentially Calla’s last moments. 

Feyre beheld in the distant trenches what looked like pieces of wood sticking out from the mud as the rumbling grew loud enough to vibrate their feet. 

Not wood. Bones. Mud and trenches and bones, and a body large enough to cause the whole mountain to shudder. 

The crowd moved to near silence, only whispers finding Feyre’s ears. 

She had read about this before, a lifetime ago, in one of Vincent’s books. 

Calla looked up to the platform one last time before the beast barreled out into the arena, Amarantha’s gleeful whisper filling the quiet air. 

“Run.” 

Then all hell broke loose. 

Taglist: Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

@cauldronblssd @buttercupcookies-blog @witch-and-her-witcher @yeonalie

[ficsforeren]

kanaaaaaa! how are you? when are you due??

yesterday i was closing tabs on my phone and found 24hours with you the haechan fic? AND OF COURSE I READ IT AGAIN JAJAJAJJAJAA GOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH, its lit the fic that i read the most times! love booby haechan JAJAJA

CAMIIIIII HIIIIII ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I just got back from my doctor's appointment and she said my estimated due date is June 9th! I'm both excited and nervous cause it's getting closer and closer AAAAAAA

OMGGGG you're still reading 24 Hours with You thank you so much 😭😭😭 ngl from all the stuff that I've written for Haechan, that one is my favorite too! it was so fun to write and I've always loved writing domestic au, it just feels more relatable LMAO

I'm so happy you like it that much, Camiiii 😭😭😭

[mystical-one]

WARNING IM GOING TO BE HONEST AND EARNEST HERE. i really unironically unconditionally liked now and then

[figofswords]

the post grad why did i get an art degree what am i even doing what do i want in life where am i going crisis has finally hit i want to. lie down in the dirt. or something

[livelaughlovepedri]

not a single day of peace in this club

[natreads]

I'm seeing hozier tonight!!!

[ghostellie]

LOGAN MADE IT OUT OF SQ1 YES

[puhpandas]

what do u guys think the hw2 dlc is gonna be about