#like I’ve met a lot of celebrities in my years and he is genuinely one of the nicest ever

[shawarmachameleon]

https://www.tumblr.com/shawarmachameleon/774853984479510528/i-just-drew-tarot-with-jared-padalecki-lmaooo-he?source=share

Did you find out the meaning?

No, I didn’t. I suppose I could consult the book?

For Jared:

“The Seven of Pentagrams reversed suggests a project relating to your finances won’t be as successful as you anticipate. Even if there’s brief instant gratification in this project, the long-term payout won’t be very fruitful. Adjust your plans, and pivot as necessary.”

For me:

“When The Lovers tarot card shows up reversed in a reading, it suggests a partnership in your life has soured. Things aren’t as harmonious and easy as they should be. It’s time to step back and reevaluate the situation. Can this partnership be fixed, or is it time to move on?”

So Jared’s gonna have financial ruin and I’m gonna have a partnership in ruin 🙃

[laurenairay]

felt like magic - N. Hischier

Summary: Nico has been pining for years – maybe this summer is a chance to finally do something about his feelings for you.

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange 2k24, with a Nico Hischier story for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten! I really hope you enjoy this – I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me. And who doesn’t love Summer Nico?

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: pining, childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, some bad language

Title (and song lyrics) from Caffeine, by Jack Kays

~

Stay with me, If it’s not our time then will you wait for me? I know that we’re young, but this is destiny I couldn’t be me without you, without you

~

Travelling from Bern to Zurich wasn’t something you’d do for just anyone. An hour and a half driving across the country, surrounded by drivers who were just as impatient to get through their journeys as you were? Not your idea of fun. At least the destination was more than worth it.

“Happy birthday Jonas!”

The man in question turned around at the sound of your voice, a big grin sliding onto his face.

“You made it, liebling! Thanks for coming!” Jonas said happily.

It wasn’t every year that you got to celebrate the birthday of one of your favourite people – early May wasn’t exactly the most consistent time of year for hockey players after all. And the last thing you wanted to do was remind him of the early end to his season. So when Jonas had called you to say that he was hosting a birthday party at his house in Zurich and invited you to spend the weekend, there was no way you were saying no.

“As if I’d miss the event of the summer,” you teased.

Jonas just beamed at you.

“Schatzi! You survived the A1!”

You peered around Jonas’s broad shoulders to see another one of your favourite people – Nico. It was through Nico, one of your childhood best friends – that you’d met Jonas in the first place so you should’ve guessed that he wouldn’t be too far away. Usually you would’ve made the journey with Nico, both of you coming from Bern after all, but he’d already been visiting in Zurich so you’d been stuck with a solo trip this time.

And damn did he look good. It wasn’t something that you let yourself think about often, being just his friend, but Nico was genuinely one of the most handsome people you’d ever seen, let alone become good friends with. It wouldn’t do you any good to travel down that road of thoughts though, so you were always careful to nip those feelings in the bud. You were friends. Great friends. Incredible friends, and that’s how it was always going to be.

“I’m here,” you mused, “had to greet the birthday boy before anyone else.”

“Yeah don’t be jealous,” Jonas teased.

Interestingly, Nico blushed slightly and glared at the taller man, before clearing his throat. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll grab something myself in a minute, but thank you,” you said, smiling sweetly, “Let me just give Jonas his birthday present first.”

You handed over the thick envelope, Jonas eagerly ripping into it, making you laugh softly.

“Oh shit, you’re the best,” Jonas gasped.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased.

“What did you get?” Nico asked, curious.

“A tattoo voucher. Far more than enough to cover the gap fillers I’ve been looking at getting. This is amazing, thank you, this is way too generous,” Jonas explained, looking gratefully at you.

“You’re welcome. I know you’ve been talking about filling the spaces for a while,” you shrugged.

While you didn’t have any tattoos of your own, you knew how Nico and Jonas felt about their own tattoos, and how much they meant to them – it was an easy decision.

“Are we ever going to get you into a tattoo chair, hm?” Nico teased.

“Maybe if I have someone holding my hand,” you teased back, trying to fight the giddy heat rising to your cheeks.

His lips parted slightly in shock, speechless for once, Jonas just cackling at his response.

“And on that note, I’m going to go say hi to Andreas and Julia. See you both later?” you grinned.

“Yeah, see you liebling,” Jonas nodded.

Nico just nodded, cheeks aflame. His silence was a bit concerning – he wasn’t exactly one to be shy or awkward, especially not around you – but you knew Jonas would figure out whatever was going on with him. Hopefully.

~

“So that was smooth,” Jonas mused.

“Shut up,” Nico groaned.

“No really, that was one of your best efforts,” Jonas snickered.

“You’re the worst,” Nico shot back.

He ran a hand through his hair, watching you walk across the backyard with a confidence he wished he had. There was just something about you that had always reduced him to feeling like a hapless fool, ever since he’d first moved to Bern as a teenager and met you within the first few weeks of living there. You’d been a constant feature in his life for 10 years now, always there with a wide smile and open arms whether it was in Bern, Zurich, or New Jersey, and he didn’t know what he would do with his life if you weren’t in it.

Nico was head over heels in love with you, and you had no idea.

Everyone else in his life knew how he felt for you, obviously, not just Jonas. His parents, his siblings, even Jack had figured it out within an hour of your first visit to New Jersey all those years ago. If Jack Hughes of all people could read it off his face then he didn’t know how much more obvious he could be – other than actually telling you with words, of course.

But how could he say anything to you, when he knew for certain that you didn’t feel the same way?

~

“Are you sure your billet family don’t mind us being down here?”

Nico smiled down at you, shaking his head. The two of you were down in the basement where his billet family’s entertainment room was, the rest of the house having gone out for the night, and Nico had invited you round for a movie night. He’d only been in Bern for a few weeks, and you were the only non-hockey friend he’d made so far, so he hadn’t hesitated to invite you over to get to know you better.

There was just something about you that made him want to put in the effort

“They really don’t mind. They even left us money for takeout,” he insisted.

“Oh, well alright then. What are we watching first?”

The evening flew by, pizza ravenously consumed between movies, the two of you shifting closer and closer on the sofa until you were fully leaning up against each other, Nico’s hockey bulk giving you a solid pillow to rest on. He didn’t mind it at all, if he was being honest with himself, although he wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

“That was so terrible though! They had no chemistry at all!” you giggled as the credits rolled.

“I guess not all actors are going to like kissing everyone they work with,” Nico snickered.

Even in the dim light of the room, he noticed the heat that rushed to your cheeks.

“What?” Nico frowned.

“It’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head quickly.

He might not know you that well yet, but he knew that was a lie.

“Come on, tell me what’s wrong?” he prompted.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“We’re 15 years old – everything we do is stupid,” Nico pointed out.

You huffed out a laugh, breath a little shaky. “I was just thinking about the fact that I wouldn’t know what it was like.”

“What what was like?” Nico asked, confused.

“To kiss someone,” you all but whispered.

His lips parted in surprise, not expecting those words to fall from your lips, and you immediately grimaced.

“See I told you it was stupid,” you groaned.

As you shifted to move away from him, Nico instinctively gripped your shoulder, not letting you go. You startled but looked up at him, staying silent in confusion.

“It’s not stupid. Not everyone has had their first kiss. You’re only 15,” he murmured.

“You’ve kissed someone though?”

Nico bit his bottom lip but nodded. He’d had multiple kisses, all harmless, all essentially meaningless, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Kissing was fun – he always liked the way it made his heart race with adrenaline.

And it was the memory of that feeling that fuelled his bravery.

“I could kiss you, if you want?”

“What?”

He took a steadying breath, before nodding. “I could kiss you. So you have a good first kiss, with a friend.”

There was nothing worse than doing something scary for the first time only to have someone make you feel like an idiot. If Nico could stop that feeling for you, then he absolutely would.

“Are you sure?” you said hesitantly, “You really don’t have to.”

“Of course I am,” he said, smiling to reassure you.

He could feel how fast your heart was beating as he rested a hand on the side of your neck, echoing the beating of his own heart. You closed your eyes as he leaned down towards you, making him smile slightly before he pressed his lips to yours. As he slowly kissed you, he could feel how hesitant and nervous you were, but as you continued to kiss him back he didn’t regret his offer for a moment. Nico kissed you over and over and over again, almost feeling dizzy with how the embrace was consuming him, his thumb stroking over your jaw as you melted into his arms. This was heaven. This was bliss. This was everything he didn’t realise he’d wanted.

After what felt like hours, but could only have been a few moments, you pulled away from the kiss. Nico made a soft noise of protest, opening his eyes to see you looking stunned, lips as swollen as his felt.

“Schatzi,” he managed to murmur.

You just bit your bottom lip, smiling softly, before leaning backwards out of his hands. He tried not to frown, not understanding why his heart was pounding, even though you didn’t look mad.

“I should probably get home. My parents will be wondering where I am by now,” you said, voice quiet, almost as if you were still a little in shock.

Nico glanced at the clock on the wall, grimacing at the late hour. Where had the time gone? Did you really have to leave, after a kiss like that?

“O-Okay, if you’re sure. Text me when you get back safe?”

“I will. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

~

After that kiss 10 years ago, the two of you had never spoken about it again. The morning after you’d acted like nothing had ever happened, and Nico had been too nervous to say anything to risk losing the blossoming friendship. He knew now that it was his first experience of heartbreak, as youthful and innocent as that had been – and he also knew that’s when he’d first started having feelings for you. What was meant to have been a friend helping out another friend had started a decade of unrequited feelings, and it was far too late for him to say anything now.

He could only hold on to the incredible friendship that had grown between the two of you with both hands. If this was all he could ever have then he was going to cherish it, no matter how what Jonas said.

“Come on bud, let’s get you a drink,” Jonas said, smiling sadly.

Nico huffed out a laugh but nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m going to need one.”

~

Hours passed by, drinking, eating, catching up with friends and making new ones, until the evening was late and only the last few straggling partygoers were making their way out of the house. You’d volunteered to start cleaning up while Jonas said goodbye to his guests, needing something to do after a long day of socialising. You were making good progress on cleaning up the empty food containers and empty drink bottles when Nico wandered into the living room, holding out a bottle of water for you.

“Looks like thirsty work,” he grinned, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

“Thanks, you should try it some time,” you teased, taking the bottle from him.

You unscrewed the cap and took a couple of long gulps with your head tilted back, needing the refreshment more than you thought, but when you put the cap back on the bottle, you noticed Nico staring at you transfixed.

“What?” you frowned, “Did I spill some water?”

“No, no, it isn’t that,” he said quickly, cheeks heating.

Why was he blushing? What was going through his mind?

“Then what is it?” you prompted, putting the bottle down on the table.

“It’s just…I was thinking about…well…”

“Yes?” you prompted again, a soft smile on your face at his awkwardness.

“It wouldn’t take a tattoo for me to hold your hand,” he blurted out.

“What?”

What was he talking about…oh. Oh. What?

“Wait, shit, no, that came out wrong…”

Nico trailed off with a groan, punctuated only by the sound of a snort. You whirled around to see Jonas standing in the doorway, and he cackled at the look on both your faces.

“Yeah I’m going upstairs. Have fun dealing with your years of feelings,” Jonas grinned, shaking his head.

Oh damn. Jonas knew?

Wait, years of feelings?

With that he left you and Nico alone, a murmur suspiciously sounding like ‘lovestruck idiots’ lingering behind him. Hesitantly you looked back at Nico to see his face full of embarrassment, cheeks tinged with red.

“What was Jonas talking about?” you asked, voice a little shaky.

Because you were damn sure that Jonas didn’t know a thing about how you felt for Nico. So he had to be talking about Nico…which only succeeded in sending your heart into a flutter.

“This was not how I wanted it all to come out,” he murmured.

“Nico, please. No more talking in circles,” you all but begged.

He inhaled shakily but nodded, finally looking you in the eyes once more. “I’ve loved you ever since the movie night where we kissed.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “That was 10 years ago, Nico. We were 15! You’ve loved me since then?”

Ten long years.

“I know,” he winced, “But yes, since then.”

“You never said anything?” you said hesitantly.

Not about the kiss, and not about his feelings.

“You didn’t either? I mean, like, we never talked about the kiss. At all. I just assumed you didn’t say anything because you regretted it, and there was no way I wanted to lose you as a friend,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Of all the things he could’ve said.

“I thought you regretted it,” you admitted, “You were this up-and-coming hockey star, and I was just the neighbour down the street.”

Nico burst out laughing, hands rising to cover his face briefly.

“We’re both idiots,” he managed to choke out between laughs, “maybe me more than you.”

Maybe.

Maybe you both were idiots, but that didn’t mean you had to waste any more time. If Nico really wanted to try being more than friends, you weren’t about to stop him.

“Hey Nico?” you said, reaching forward to place a hand on his chest.

You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart, but it was the hope in his eyes that gave you courage.

“Yes, schatzi?”

“It’s been a long ten years…kiss me again?”

Nico’s only response was to do as you’d asked.

~

I’m sitting patiently, Hoping for the day to come where you can see, All the stars, they fall in line for you and me, I can’t wait for you to see too, yes, you’ll do.

[teeth-farie]

Forty Year Old Virgin

Johnathon Ohnn/GN Reader

Notes: virginity, null spot, hole fingering, dry humping, clothed sex, kinda tribadism, spit, alcohol, spot being pathetic, 3.5k

��. . . Seems like I’m back from my little hiatus!! I actually started writing this fic yesterday and it’s the FASTEST I’ve ever finished one. I blame the spot server I’m in

Johnathon Ohnn is thirty-eight years old. He knows this because he always liked celebrating his birthday, even if they got less eventful over the years. He still enjoyed the candles and the cake, he still enjoyed how his family would come together to sing for him and how his coworkers would sign a group card. 

Johnathon was thirty-seven when the collider exploded. He didn’t realize his birthday had passed until he looked at a calendar. And really, how pitiful was that? No candles, no cake, not even a sloppily signed card. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he craved normality.

It wasn’t long after that he met you, significantly younger and full of spunk. It made him feel a little youthful again, like he was back in that old dorm room at the shiny age of twenty. Admittedly he didn’t do as many fun things as you did at his age, he mostly studied and contemplated taking Adderall to get through his finals, but he digressed. 

But observing you made him realize just how many things he missed out on during his youth. Sure, he sneaked a couple of his dad's beers as a teen and broke some college lab equipment he wasn’t supposed to be touching, rebellious things like that, but that wasn’t truly living. 

Before, he thought his accomplishments would speak for him; his doctorates and files of studies, his collider. But now, as he watches and listens to the dramatic reenactments of your late teenage hood and early adult life, Johnathon begins to realize maybe science isn’t the end all be all of his life. He realizes that he never went to any parties in college, he never had a quarrel-filled romance his parents disapproved of, he never traveled outside of the country aside from work—and as his eyeless gaze flits downwards, taking in the sight that is you in incredibly short shorts, he realizes another thing. 

He’s never had sex, either. 

It’s not that he didn’t want to have sex, because he really desperately did, it’s more like he never got the chance. Between his academics that shot straight to the workforce and his lack of genuine attraction to anyone around him, it got put on the back burner. 

But now it’s all he can think about. 

He thinks about it when he watches your hands gesture wildly, the way they look so agile yet sturdy. He thinks about it when your shirts are low cut or rising up your midriff. He thinks about it when you stand close to him and all he can smell is you. He thinks about it when your hips shimmy to a song you like. He thinks about it when-

Ahem. 

He thinks. A lot. 

Johnathon has never had a quiet mind, that much is true. He’s never figured out whether or not it was a good thing, but considering how much material his brain has given him for lonely nights, it can’t all be bad. 

Well. That was before the collider blew his dick clean off too. Which was another thing on his long long list of ‘Is living still worth it? I’m not too sure.’ (Except now he finally has a pro on that list, thanks to you.)

He can’t help but feel a tad bit jealous, however, hearing you talk briefly about past flings and relationships. Although he couldn’t exactly distinguish whether or not he felt jealous of your experience, or jealous of the men in your stories. He knows he could be better, even if he had virtually no experience to go off of. Despite it all, he still thinks to himself that he could make himself into someone you wanted, someone good for you. (Though he does also wonder if that’s perhaps his newly inflated ego talking.)

Johnathon sighs and holds his head in his hands. His hand briefly falls through the hole in his face and comes out of his thigh. Regardless of what he thinks could happen and what could be, he knows deep down that you couldn’t possibly be attracted to him. Still, a man is allowed to dream, right?

…

As it turns out, dreams do come true. 

Or at least a drunk, sloppy version of them. 

To be fair, Johnathon didn't think he still could get drunk, so it wasn't his fault that he was a bit heavy-handed with the bottle. It didn’t help that you were so influencing either, all too eager to dump the rest of your bottle down the hole in his face just to see where it’d go. Apparently, liquids dissolved down quickly in his voided body before they could emerge out of another hole. So, he drank. He drank because it was the first time he could feel any kind of normalcy, he could feel like he was human again. Unfortunately for him, he's still just as loose-lipped when drunk as he was before the collider incident. 

You swirl the foamy remnants of beer in your bottle, watching it swirl through the brown glass before swallowing it down with a tip of your head. Johnathon watches the way your throat bobs as you swallow, entranced. You breathe out, satisfied, and set the bottle down on the coffee table amongst all the others. 

“Y’know,” You begin, leaning back against the couch cushions, legs curled up comfortably to your chest. “You’re not as bad looking as you think.” You’re squinting your eyes a little at him, as if you were examining his body. “Lotsa people are into your kinda thing.”

Johnathon’s face hole constricts a little as if he were narrowing his eyes. “My kinda thing? What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“You know! Like…like not human looking.” You’re still looking at him, grinning, fingers picking at the hem of your pajama pants.

He makes a sound like a scoff. “That’s not really a compliment…”

You whine in subtle frustration. “I didn’t mean it like that! I meant like, you have different kinds of qualities. Good qualities.” You poke your finger out at him, jabbing his chest. Your fingertip sinks into one of his inkblot holes and it gives Johnathon a feeling that he knows he’ll be thinking about later tonight when he's all alone. You replace your finger to actually poke his chest now, the smooth, almost rubbery skin of him. He shivers a little nonetheless. 

“What…” he swallows thickly. “What kind of qualities?”

You continue to idly run circles over his chest with your index finger, humming softly to yourself. “I know the regular things, like how much of a good listener and talker you are. You know lots about stuff. And you also are like, super eager to please. That’s gotta be a good quality too.” 

Johnathon looks down at your hand, his black little heart thumping in his chest. It’s almost too intimate for him to bear. 

“Oh! And your holes!”

“My…my holes?”

“Yeah, I bet you can do some crazy things with them.”

“Oh god–” He nearly chokes at the thought running in his head.

“Yeah,” you continue, pulling your hand back to yourself. Johnathon hates how it makes him feel lonely. “I once met a guy who had crazy holes, haha, you could fit a whole fist in ther–”

“OH wow, really?” He quickly cuts you off, his paper-white face flushing a dull blue. He flaps his hands a little, as if it could cool down both his flustering and spiking jealousy. “I don’t think you should k-kiss and tell, right? Isn’t that a thing we’re not supposed to do? Kissing and…telling?” God, he really wants to know what it’s like to kiss you. 

“Oh, c’mon! I know there has to be at least something you’ve done that you just gotta talk about. What is it, huh? Weird partner? Did they have a weird fetish?” You gasp suddenly. “Oh god, a pregnancy scare maybe?…pregnancy fetish?” 

“No, no, none of that!” Johnathon waves his hands out in front of him rapidly, hoping to quell your questioning. “I’ve never uh- never really–”

“What, are you vanilla? Usually, nerds are like, SUPER kinky–”

“I’ve never had sex!” Curse him and his loose lips. 

The air goes still amongst the sudden silence and Johnathon begins to regret ever speaking. Actually, scrap that, he regrets ever being born. Well, it’s actually not like he really had a choice in the matter, but that's beside the point.

Then, you snort a little. “You’ve gotta be joking, right? Aren’t you like, forty?”

His face hole shrinks down nearly to the side of a pinhole in both embarrassment and frustration. “I-I’m not forty! I’m thirty-eight! A-and besides, lots of people don’t have sex until they’re older! Or at all!”

“Oh my god, this is like that one movie, what’s it called, uhh,”

You tap your chin, completely ignoring him.

“I should have never said anything, I’m such an idiot—“

“No, don’t say that!” You poke his chest again, whining when he recoils from your touch. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make fun of you, I’m sorry.”

Johnathon huffs, grabbing one of the half-full bottles and dumping it down his face hole. It scrunches slightly in what you’ve begun to assume is swallowing. You pout and scoot up closer to him. “Johnny…” 

He chokes a little, his gangly body going stiff. “Y-yeah?”

You grab his face, fingers pressing against his pale, rubbery cheeks. “You wanna do it?”

For a moment, Johnathon feels like the world has gone still. Everything is muffled and slow as the realization dawns on him. “Wuh-what?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You repeat, squishing his cheeks after each word like you were making him say them too.

“Yes! I-I mean, I would really like to, you’re so pretty, b-but uh, I’m a little, hah, how do you say it, ohmygosh this is harder than I thought it’d be! Uhm!” He flusters and rambles, hands flapping in front of his chest, and you’re just waiting. You’re looking at him with lidded, bedroom eyes, and Johnathon thinks he finally understands the meaning of that word. 

“I don’t have, I don’t have a penis!” 

A beat goes by, and then another, and he begins to feel like he blew his only shot with you.

“Do you have a vagina? It’s not an issue for me, I wanna fuck you either way.”

Jesus Christ, you are going to kill him. 

“I mean, I don’t have anything.” He breathes out, shoulders deflating. “The uh, the whole collider thing got rid of it all.”

“Oh man, that’s awful.” You pat his shoulder, looking at him with sympathetic eyes. “But, y’know, the offer still stands…maybe we can get a little science-y and figure out how to get you off, eh?”

Johnathon lifts his head and finds you grinning at him. “Science-y?” He repeats, his face hole crinkling like a smile. 

“Yeah, dude! Science-y! Hypothesis! Theories! Quantum holes! Your holes!”

He snorts and it leads into a laugh, a deep belly laugh that he hasn’t been able to do in a while. And really, why the hell not?

His laugh dies down when you get closer, straddling his thighs and seating yourself down in his lap—and god, he can feel those short shorts he loves riding up your thighs and wrinkling against his skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” You croon, leaning in and nudging your nose under his chin. If Johnathon still had a dick, that would have sent blood right down to it. 

His inkblot holes quiver amongst his body, undulating and jumping across his skin like microscopic particles, bouncing against each other under a microscope. Your face gets closer to his, lips hovering over the entrance of his face. Gently, curiously, you purse your lips and kiss the voided space. It’s almost as if there’s a thin membrane separating the outside world from the inside of him, cool to the touch and like bubblegum stretched thin. The membrane melds against your lips like it’s kissing you back and when Johnathon shivers, it puckers and purses. 

His hands tremble, hovering above your hips and thighs, as if it’d burn him to touch you properly, despite how much he craves it. 

Your tongue drags over the edge of his face hole and Johnathon practically whimpers. You’re humming softly, one hand idly stroking his arm as the other feels up his chest. He used to be a tad bit insecure about his pudgy torso, but with so many spots, he had other things to outweigh the worry. But now he can’t help but hold his breath, waiting for your approval of his body, the kind he so desperately needs.

“Cute.” You say mostly to yourself, dipping your fingers into a hole in his chest. He sighs out heavily in relief and pleasure, his head thumping back against the edge of the couch. 

“How’s this feel?” You poke and prod into the hole, pressing past the same kind of membrane as his face. Vaguely, you feel your fingertips come back out of another hole, but you don’t focus as much on that part. 

“Good,” Jonathan answers curtly, sucking a breath through his nonexistent teeth. When he exhales, it's shuddery and almost pitiful. “It’s good, it’s like- like there but not,” 

“So you can feel it? What if I do something like this?” Curiously, you curl your fingers in the empty space, and a fuzzy feeling coats your skin as if your fingers were pruning yet stayed completely dry. He yelps loudly, his body lurching and he finally grabs onto you. His fingers dig into your thighs on their own accord and you are absolutely delighted with it.

“Oh god!” He cries, his thighs shifting and squirming under your lap, and you start to feel something poking at your ass. You give a confused hum, lift your hips and look down. Nope, he still doesn't have a dick, but the empty space between his legs has seemingly swollen into a small, adorable bulge. Johnathon breathes out heavily and follows your gaze.

“Wow, that’s so cool…” You reach down between your laps and grind the heel of your palm against the bulge.

He gasps sharply. “Oh, fuck me!”

“Yeah, that’s what I'm trying to do.” You snicker impishly. You observe the way the squishy bulge flushes with color around the surface, almost like a blush. “I bet that feels really good, huh? It’s kinda like you have a really big clit. Sorta” You squish it in your hands and he shudders, shoulders tensing and inkblot shrinking. “Hey, you know what would be fun?”

Johnathon feels a little loopy, his stomach filled with butterflies and his brain thoroughly mush. He considers this endeavor so far to be successful considering the fact he didn't think he still could  feel pleasure. But here you are, proving him wrong once again. 

“Wh-what would?” He finds himself asking, rutting his hips up into your hand like a depraved little thing. 

You don’t answer verbally yet, just sit back down on his lap and rock your hips against his. “If you fucked yourself like this.” Your fingers curl back into one of his holes, running up and down the edge of it. Johnathon melts, blubbering out nearly unintelligible pleas. 

“You can do it, right? I’ll keep fingering you if you hump me like a dirty dog.” 

And oh, that does things to him. He’ll…have to address that new kink later. 

“Yes,” he gasps, grabbing on tightly to your hips and canting his hips up, grinding his bulge against your sex. “Yessss!” He can’t help but cry it out, his smooth head burrowing itself in the crook of your neck from the sheer intensity of it all. The heat of you is almost unbearable on his body, inside his holes. And he really is panting like a dog, he’s humping you like he actually has a dick to work with, like you could grab him and stroke him until he was a weeping mess. 

“That’s it, you don’t wanna be a virgin anymore, right? C’mon, show me what you’re made of, you little nerd.” You’re cooing to him like it’s praise, and with the way you’re stroking the inside of him, pressing your fingers past that membrane and curling until the fuzziness is almost unbearable, you might as well be.

Johnathon moans wetly against your neck, legs widening and hands holding your hips down firmly as he ruts. He grinds his aching core against you, practically delirious and melting with every saccharine whisper in his ear. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you hear him say, muffled against your skin and devious delight spreads through your entire being. You hook your fingers into the hole of his face and he cries out, a debauched “Ah! Ah!” as you lift his head up. His inkblot holes shiver violently, and you hold his face in your hands like he’s your entire world, like he’s the only thing that matters to you.

And then you lean in, holding his face so carefully—

And spit.

The man below you gurgles, your spit falling down the hole in his face as a viscous glob tasting faintly of beer. Johnathon thrusts his hips up once, twice, and he’s cumming. Nothing comes out of him, but you swear you can see the holes of him drooling, dripping liquid dark matter that hurts your eyes a little to stare at too long. Pleasure blooms in you at the sight and feeling of his incessant rutting, your hands petting his head as his first orgasm in so long washes over him.

And finally, he slumps back against the couch, trembling under you, the surface of his face flushed with color. You lift yourself off his lap, your shorts still wet with your own arousal, but you’re not done with him yet.

“It’s no good to leave your partner high and dry, you know?” You tease him, and the realization dawns on his faceless face. 

“O-OH! Oh, I’m so so sorry! I-I didn’t mean- that wasn’t my intention at all! Wh-what should I do? What do you like? Oh god, I’m so sorry—“

You quiet him by lifting his gangly legs up, exposing him even further. “Don't worry about it, it’s your first time! That just means I’ll have to use you.” That evil little grin is back as you brace one foot on the floor and the other on the couch cushions, slotting your hips against his. Poor Johnathon is practically folded in half, one leg hanging over your shoulder and the other dangling uselessly to the side. 

You don’t waste any time either, you get right to it, hips thrusting quick and hard against his over sensitive bulge. And oh, how he squeals. He’s always been a talkative man, but he never could have anticipated being this vocal. 

“Uhgn! Hah! Mmm-mmph! I-I can’t! S’too much, too much!” He babbles on, sights locked on how your hips connect with his, ruthlessly grinding and rutting and it reminds him of some kind of wild animal. 

“You can, huff, take it. Jus’ a lil more,'' your head hangs low between your shoulders, arousal twining together deep in your gut. Johnathon feels it too, and he feels it tenfold. His body feels like it’s on fire, steadily submerged in pleasure until he’s burning alive in it. He can’t take how you look above him either, so goddamn ethereal, the dim overcast of the tv lighting you from behind like a digital halo, as if you were an angel sent to soothe him after such chaos. Johnathon was never a religious man, but for you, he thinks he could be.

It only takes you a little longer, already so wound tight from before. He’s dangling on the precipice of release again, delirious with lust, clinging onto the back of your neck and tugging you in.

You find your face inside of him when you cum, and somehow the deprivation of sensory makes it all the better, colors popping up in your vision like synesthesia. You can feel his thighs tighten around you with his budding climax, but you can’t see, and you already know how you regret that. You suppose you’ll just have to overstimulate him again one day when he can’t hide himself from your view.

Johnathon goes limp and you’re finally able to pull your face from the inside of his, the dark matter sliding free from your skin like an unsticky slime. It’s weird, but oddly refreshing.

Cum stains the inside of your shorts but it’s the last thing on your mind when you take in the visual that is Johnathon. He practically glows with post coital bliss, seeped back into couch cushions without the tension you’re so used to. 

You let his legs fall back down, slumping into the seat next to him. He hums softly in delight, kinda loopy, entirely pleased. 

“So?” You question him, idly stroking his soft chest. It’s sweaty in its own way. “Was that good for your very first time?” You waggle your brows at him and he snorts, albeit a little weakly.

“Incredibly so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good in my life.”

You clap happily. “And you’re no longer a forty year old virgin!”

“I told you I’m NOT forty!”

[stxuxrniolochris]

safari guide - Chris Sturniolo

Summary~~ You work at a safari and famous youtubers rent out the whole place and one catches your eye. Will it lead to anything?~~

P2

~~

It was early in the morning and I was tired. I normally took the night shift for the over night but there were some famous people who rented the whole thing out and I’m the only one who is experienced enough to give the full guide and was willing to be here for over 24 hours. I didn’t do any research on these guys but I know there triplets and that there youtubers.

I was at the front desk waiting, which felt like forever when I saw two people who looked very similar. And a guy with a camera behind them. I guess this was them. “Hey! We’re fore the safari overnight thing.” The first one smiled brightly. I smiled right back, I love people who are just happy and kind. “Hi! I assume your the Sturn-ni-olo triplets?” I said struggling to say there seconds name. “Yess haha I’m Nick Sturniolo and this is Matt.” He gestured to the other boy who was quiet. I smiled at Matt while taking a mental note on how to say there name. “The other one, Chris will be here in just a second, he’s getting the spare camera.” He continued still smiling. “Well it’s nice to meet you I’m y/n.” I said while handing them maps of the safari when a third boy walked up. They all look similar but you could tell differences about them. I got butterflies when I saw the last one, which I figured was Chris. He was cute, no he was hot. “Chris! This is y/n, y/n this is Chris.” I smiled at him and he smiled back. I could’ve sworn I saw him look me up and down quick, but I just brushed it off. “Do you mind be on camera?” Nick asked. “No not at all.” I smiled.

“So are you guys celebrating your birthday or..” I asked while we walked to the zip line. “No, 6 million subscribers.” Nick said smiling. My eyes widened, i mean I heard they were famous but not that famous. They chuckled at my reaction. “Well congratulations, that’s a lot of people.” “Thank you.” They all said collectively, which made me laugh. Chris kept looking and smiling at me, which I thought was cute.

I was walking a couple steps ahead of the boys, giving them space while they talked to the camera when I heard footsteps get closer to me, faster. I turned slightly to be met with Chris smiling widely at me. “Hey.” He beamed. “Hi.” I smiled back. “Soooo how long have you worked here for, you seem to know your stuff.” I smiled at him asking this, I was passionate about my job here. “Hmm 4 years I think, yea since I was 16.” “No way we’re the same age, 20?” He said playfully hitting my arm. “Yup, when’s your birthday?” I said while laughing. “August 1st, you?” “No way I’m august 2.” I smiled. “Well I guess we’re just meant for each other then.” He shrugged while smirking. I rolled my eyes while smiling, I could feel my face go red. “Ok buddy.” I replied making him laugh.

Whenever he wasn’t talking to the camera he was beside me trying to make conversation. I was glad because I was scared that they would be some like fake- rude out of touch influencers, but they were really genuine and kind.

We got to the end of the tour at the dinner tent. “Well this is the end of the tour, they have dinner made so I’ll be back when you guys are done.” I smiled. “Thank you so much.” Nick said at the same time Matt said thank you. “Thank you.” Chris said while waving. “Cant wait to see you later, miss you already.” He whispered, so only I could hear, while smirking. My face for sure went bright red so I just smiled, shook my head and walked out.

Chris pov

I just finished dinner and decided to go find y/n. I don’t know why I was attracted to her. I’ve never felt this interested in a girl since high school. After a bout 5 minutes of looking around I spot hee on the edge of a rock with her feet dangling off. She was smoking somthing, normally would be a turn off for me but the way her lips wrapped around the end just made me more attracted.

“Hey” I breathe while walking up to her. “Hi.” She smiled brightly while putting out her joint. I sat down and looked between us at her phone. Breathe by Lil Skies was playing. “No way you listen to Skies.” I smile happily. “Yes way, what’s so unbelievable.” She laughs. God I love her laugh. “No I just love him, favourite artist.” I nudge her arm playfully. “Really? Same.” I nodded as she hands me an airpod, I smile while taking it. After a few moments of us listening to the music she speaks up again. “I went to see at summer smash last summer.” My jaw drops “No way you were there.” “Yea front row and everything.” She smiles smugly. “Well I do you one up, I was back stage.” I smirk. “No shot i don’t believe you.” “Do you remember that one guy going on stage with him during ‘rage’.” I said while still smirking. She looks at me confused, then realisation hits her. “No fucking way that was you.” Her jaw slacks. I laugh “yup”

Y/n pov

I can’t believe this. So he was famous-famous. I suddenly felt confident. “Always thought you were my type.” I smirk while shrugging. “Oh yea?” He questioned. “Yea.” I replied while smiling. I couldn’t sworn he had gotten a lot closer over the last few minutes. It’s silent, but not uncomfortable. We’re just staring at each other. He’s slowly leaning in and so do I. What was just doing omg. It was unexpected but I liked it.

Next thing I knew his lips were on mine. It was a slow and passionate kiss but it got quicker as it went on. My hands found there way up to his hair, while one of his was supporting him up and the other on my waist which sent shivers through me. After a bit I pulled back for air and he rested his forehead on mine. I smiled and he smiled back. “You know your really really pretty.” He whispered making me smile even bigger. “So can I get your number.” He asks. “Of course you can.” I laugh making him smile. “Alright we better get back you have your night tour.” I say but not moving. He sighs and drops his head a bit then gives me a peck on the lips. “Alright pretty girl.” He said making me get butterflies. We exchanged numbers then walked back to the others. I couldn’t stop smiling and by the looks of it neither could he, causing to get a few suspicious looks from Nick and Matt. I didn’t mind though I was just happy.

[astrolynnworld]

blue confessions

pairing: matt x reader

summary: matt confesses his feelings to the reader at the countdown of midnight

warnings: fluff! new years, confessions, love, romance.

a/n- should of been posted yesterday but oh well 🫠

word count: 979

i do some last minute cleansing and preparations as i get ready to start my year anew and fresh.

nick had invited a few friends over so we can celebrate our last hours of 2023 together.

i finish getting ready and put on my coat so i can head over to the house.

everyone arrived at various times but i was one of the first people to get there.

i’ve been friends with the triplets for about 7 years now, at first i met nick but he soon after introduced me to his brothers who i’ve been close with every since.

especially matt, matt is really like my best friend. since day one, matt & i have have a different type of connection where we understand each other on a different level

he’s always been there for me, as i have with him.

“hey!! happy new year” nick says as he opens the door to let me in

“happy new year!” i say while going in for a hug

“wow it’s been in a long year.” i continue

“tell me about it.. a lot has happened this year, from hitting 5 million subs to going on tour again.. it’s been a crazy year”

“yup, sad to see it end but ready to watch it go” i laugh

from the corner of my eye i can see chris coming up the stairs

“oh hey chris! happy new year” i say as i walk in for a hug

“yup! new year.” he greets back, “where’s the food?” he proceeds to ask

“chris shut up. it’s on the way, you can wait.” nick answers annoyingly

i chuckle at their banter

“where’s matt?” i ask out loud

“he’s probably in still his room getting ready, you can go check on him if you want” nick responds

i nod and make my way down the hall to his room.

i do my little signature knock that i do so he knows it’s me

“come in!” he shouts from the door

i open the door and walk in to give him a hug

“heyyy matt!!” i gleefully say

“why are you so happy?” he asks with a confused face

“cause it’s new year’s eve!!” i respond with more enthusiasm

“big plans for 2024?” he asks

“no plans, just hopes and wants.” i respond

“yeah? what do you hope and want?” he asks again

“i kinda hope for a genuine connection and relationship..” i say shyly

“really?”

“yeah. i just feel like im tired of meaningless flings or situationships. we’re only getting older.. i want something real” i say

“i feel you 100%” he reassures

“yeah.” i look down, “but anyway! do you have anything you’re looking forward too?”

“not really. i just wanna let the year play out how it’s supposed too.” he replies

“yeah i see th-“ im interrupted as the door swings open

“our friends are here. stop hiding in the room” says nick

“we’re not hiding” matt says as he gets up to make his way to the living room

i follow shortly behind

after a few hours of party games and jokes, we just hang around to enjoy our last few minutes of 2023

i go in the kitchen to grab some water and shortly after, matt follows along

he nervously stands there in silence for a bit pretending to be occupied before striking up a conversation

“before the year end i kinda just wanted to let you know that i really do appreciate our friendship” he says sentimentally

“aww matt, that’s so sweet.”

“i know i don’t really say it often but i do love you. maybe in more ways than i should to be honest.” he looks down

“huh? what do you mean?” i ask

“well you’re the person i can count on the most, other than nick and chris. you’re always there for me when i need you to be and i feel like i relate you on a deeper level. you just understand me as a person and i love and appreciate you a lot for it.”

i go in for a hug, “matt i love you so much! you’re gonna make me cry”

he hugs back but doesn’t seem fulfilled

“matt what’s wrong? you seem unfinished?” i ask still embraced in his grasp

“cause that’s not all i want to say. i just don’t know how to say it” he says

suddenly we hear our friends in the other room start the new year countdown

“well you better hurry before the new year begins” i chuckle

“six.. five” we hear from the other room

i stare up as he looks down at me with his mouth agape as he prepares himself

“two.. one-“

“i’m in love with you” he spills

“HAPPY NEW YEAR” i hear from the other room as i stare at him in silence

“this is probably the worst timing but i really couldn’t keep it in anymore. i can’t go into another year feeling regret for every day that i don’t confess to you how i fee-“

i break his monologue with a kiss

“i love too matt” i look up at him with a smile

“are you being serious?” his confused look making me chuckle

“yess matt. of course i do! like you said, i understand you on a deeper level. and i know you understand me just as well. i enjoy every second i spend with you and i love being around you, you always make me feel special. i also kept my feelings tucked in but i love you just as much” i confess

he smiles and places a kiss on my lips while placing both hands on each of my cheeks

“can i be your boyfriend, y/n?” he whispers into my lips as he holds my cheeks with both hands

“i’d love nothing more” i smile up at him

———————————————————————

a/n- hope you guys enjoyed this cute little story

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Love Doesn’t Have To Hurt

BREIF Logan Sargeant x Fem!Sainz!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Sainz!Reader, Carlos Sainz x Fem!Sainz!Reader

A/N: I’ve really been trying my best with keeping up with writing and posting within a timely manner but it hurts me that someone (not naming names) took my first ever post and copied and pasted it as their own, I mean I’m flattered that you love my writing so much you posted it to your own account but please, that was disrespectful. To everyone who has reported or shared that post and helped me by sending me kind words and how to prevent things like this from happening again, thank you so much! I don’t know yet whether or not Im going to be annoying and take ANOTHER short break but this is messing with me a little. Enjoy this story though, I’ve had it in my drafts for a week or two.

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 Masterlist

Y/N Sainz had always been close to her older brother, Carlos. Growing up in the shadow of his racing career had its perks, but it also meant she was constantly surrounded by his friends, including Lando Norris. From the moment they met, Y/N and Lando had an easy rapport, their banter light and effortless.

Lando quickly became a fixture in her life, always around for family dinners, race weekends, and impromptu hangouts. Their friendship was easy, natural, and uncomplicated—or so it seemed. For years, Y/N harbored a secret crush on Lando, carefully hidden behind the mask of friendship. She never acted on it, fearing it would ruin not only their friendship but also complicate things with Carlos.

Y/N had been dating Logan Sargeant for two years, a relationship that seemed perfect on the outside. Logan was charming and attentive, and they appeared to be the ideal couple. But behind closed doors, cracks began to form. Logan's attention waned, and Y/N found herself increasingly lonely and insecure.

The final blow came when she discovered Logan had been cheating on her. The betrayal shattered her, leaving her heartbroken and wary of trusting anyone again. Carlos was livid, ready to confront Logan, but Y/N begged him not to. She wanted to heal on her own terms, away from the drama and conflict.

Lando was there for her during those dark days, offering a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear. He had always admired Y/N's strength and resilience, but seeing her so vulnerable only deepened his feelings for her. Yet, he kept his distance, knowing she needed time to recover.

It was during a summer vacation in Monaco when things began to change. Carlos had invited a few friends to join them at their family's villa, and Lando was, of course, among them. The days were filled with laughter, swimming, and late-night conversations under the stars.

One evening, after a particularly exhilarating race, the group decided to celebrate at a local club. The atmosphere was electric, and the drinks were flowing. Y/N found herself sitting next to Lando, their knees brushing as they talked.

"You were amazing today," Y/N said, her voice sincere. "I don't think I've ever seen you drive like that."

Lando smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "Thanks, Y/N. It means a lot coming from you."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them faded. There was a spark, an undeniable connection that neither of them could ignore. But just as quickly, Y/N looked away, the reality of her recent heartbreak crashing down on her. She couldn't risk opening herself up again, not after Logan.

Despite their unspoken feelings, Y/N and Lando tried to maintain the status quo. But the spark between them was impossible to ignore, and one evening, after everyone else had gone to bed, they found themselves alone in the villa's garden.

"Lando, we need to talk," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't keep pretending that nothing's changed."

Lando nodded, his expression serious. "I know. I feel it too, Y/N. But what are we supposed to do? Carlos will kill me if he finds out."

Y/N sighed, her heart aching with the weight of their predicament. "I don't know. But I can't keep hiding how I feel."

Lando took a deep breath, reaching out to take her hand. "We'll figure it out. Together."

From that night on, they began a secret relationship, stolen moments and whispered confessions. It wasn't easy, especially for Y/N, who struggled with trust and vulnerability after Logan's betrayal. But Lando was patient, showing her that love didn't have to hurt, that it could be gentle and kind.

Keeping their relationship a secret was more challenging than either of them had anticipated. There were close calls, moments when they almost slipped up. Like the time Carlos nearly walked in on them kissing in Lando's hotel room. Or the time Y/N accidentally sent Lando a flirty text meant for her eyes only, which he opened in front of Carlos.

Each close call only heightened the tension, but it also made their bond stronger. They became experts at hiding their feelings in public, but when they were alone, the intensity of their love was palpable.

The constant secrecy began to take its toll on Y/N. She hated lying to Carlos, and the stress of keeping their relationship hidden was wearing her down. One evening, after a particularly close call, she and Lando found themselves arguing in hushed tones in his hotel room.

"I can't keep doing this, Lando," Y/N said, tears in her eyes. "It's tearing me apart."

Lando's heart ached at the sight of her tears. "I know, Y/N. I hate this too. But what choice do we have? If we tell Carlos, he'll never forgive us."

Y/N shook her head, her voice breaking. "I can't keep lying to him. He deserves to know the truth. And if he can't accept it, then at least we tried."

Lando took a deep breath, knowing she was right. "Okay. We'll tell him. Together."

The opportunity to come clean presented itself sooner than they expected. It was the night before a big race, and Carlos had invited Lando and Y/N to dinner. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of their secret hanging over them.

As they sat down to eat, Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. "Carlos, there's something we need to tell you."

Carlos looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What is it, Y/N?"

Y/N glanced at Lando, who nodded encouragingly. "Lando and I... we're together. We've been seeing each other for a while now."

The silence that followed was deafening. Carlos's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, it's not," Lando said, his voice steady. "We didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. And we love each other."

Carlos stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You lied to me. Both of you. How could you do this?”

Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes. "Carlos, please understand. We didn't want to hurt you."

Carlos shook his head, his eyes filled with betrayal. "I need some time to think."

The days that followed were painful and tense. Carlos avoided both Y/N and Lando, throwing himself into his work and the upcoming race. Y/N felt the weight of his disappointment and anger, but she knew they had done the right thing by being honest.

Lando was a constant source of support, holding her when she cried and reassuring her that they would get through this together. It wasn't easy, but their love was strong, and they were determined to weather the storm.

Lando knew that words alone wouldn't be enough to mend the rift between him and Carlos. He needed to show Carlos that his feelings for Y/N were genuine and deep. During the next race weekend, Lando approached Carlos with a plan.

"Carlos, I know you're still upset, and you have every right to be," Lando began, his voice sincere. "But I want to prove to you that my feelings for Y/N are real and that I'll do anything to make her happy. Let me help you with your race prep this weekend, and maybe you'll see that I'm serious about this."

Carlos studied Lando for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Fine. Let's see if you're as serious as you say."

The weekend was grueling, with Lando juggling his own race preparations and assisting Carlos. But he threw himself into the work, showing not only his dedication to his own career but also his commitment to earning Carlos's trust.

After the race, which went spectacularly well for both Carlos and Lando, Carlos finally sat down with his sister. They were in her hotel room, the evening light casting long shadows on the walls.

"Y/N, I need to understand," Carlos said, his voice soft but intense. "Why Lando? After everything that happened with Logan, why take that risk again?"

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Carlos's. "Because Lando showed me that love doesn't have to hurt, Carlos. He was there for me when Logan broke my heart. He was patient, kind, and he never pushed me. He loves me in a way that I never thought was possible."

Carlos's expression softened as he listened. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, Y/N. You're my little sister, and I want to protect you."

Y/N reached out and took Carlos's hand. "I know, and I love you for that. But Lando makes me happy. I need you to trust me, and to trust him."

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. I'll try. But if he ever hurts you, he's going to have to answer to me."

Y/N smiled, relief flooding through her. "Thank you, Carlos. That means the world to me."

With Carlos's reluctant blessing, Y/N and Lando were finally able to be open about their relationship. The burden of secrecy lifted, they found a new sense of freedom and joy. Their love grew stronger, and they faced the challenges of their relationship together, knowing they had Carlos's support.

In time, the tension between Carlos and Lando eased, and they found their way back to the friendship they had always cherished. Y/N was grateful for the understanding and forgiveness her brother had shown, and she knew that no matter what, they would always be a family.

Lando proved to be the perfect partner for Y/N, supporting her dreams and ambitions while pursuing his own. They became each other's rock, facing the ups and downs of life in the fast lane together.

One evening, as the sun set over the Monaco coastline, the Sainz family and Lando gathered for a dinner. It was a special occasion, one that marked not only the success of Carlos's season but also the strength and unity of their family.

During dinner, Carlos raised his glass, his eyes shining with pride and affection. "To family, and to the people who make us better. Y/N, Lando, I'm proud of you both. You've shown me that love can be strong, even when it's tested. Here's to the future."

Y/N and Lando exchanged a smile, their hearts full. They clinked glasses, surrounded by the warmth and love of their family.

As the seasons changed and the years passed, Y/N and Lando's relationship continued to flourish. They faced new challenges and adventures together, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Carlos remained a constant presence in their lives, supporting them and cheering them on.

—

I have no clue what the hell this is but I hope you enjoyed?

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[lueurjun]

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗁: 𝗃𝖺𝗒 𝗎𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎

⋮ — in which feelings are hurt, and jay needs a little bit of assistance figuring out what on earth he did to make you so upset with him

annoyingly jay doesn’t know what he’s done to make you so mad

which evidently only seems to piss you off even more. it feels like he doesn’t care enough to review his actions and that hurts you more

but he does care, more than you know—he’s just a bit… clueless sometimes

you have never been fond of the silent treatment, that sort of feels slightly toxic to you, so you stick to short answers and snippy comments which is probably the same level as silence but jay prefers it

he loves your voice and if you were to ever take it away from him… oh my, he would die

though he certainly would rather hear your angelic voice praising and giving him love like usual, the disappointment you display strikes him hard

but he just can’t for the life of him figure out what he’s done

and when he asks? even more hurt and annoyance from you

jay just wants everything to be resolved

but he has no idea where to start

and so he bites down his pride and enlists the help of the ever so charming jungwon and his puppy like companion jake

“what did you do this time?” jake asks the moment jay steps into the room with a guilty expression

though it morphs into an offended one rather quickly

“how do you know i’ve done something wrong? i might just want to hang out”

he’s met with two ‘be serious’ looks which makes him slump his shoulders

“i upset y/n… and i don’t know how’

much to jay’s surprise, jungwon nods

“yeah they called me not long ago”

jake avenges you by slapping jay silly with some rolled up newspaper

“silly boy”

“did they say what i did wrong?”

you did

you told jungwon everything

“mhm. but i’m not going to tell you what it is exactly. however, i will tell you that it’s something important and you’ve forgotten it”

jake hadn’t been told the full story, but he understood what jungwon was hinting at instantly — he gasped dramatically

and jay felt worse because he didn’t have a clue what jungwon was talking about

he’s a smart boy… just lacks practice when it comes to the relationship area

you’re his first real partner, and he doesn’t want to mess it up

seemingly taking pity on him, jungwon sighs

“the date, hyung! check the date!”

he does as he’s told, and in a matter of seconds it all clicks into place and jay is dashing out the door

leaving the teasing remarks of his friends behind him

in an attempt to salvage the remains of the day which happens to be your two year anniversary he rushes around gathering supplies

he collects all of your favourite things and returns home out of breath

you’re sitting on the couch when he arrives, hair damp from a shower and one of his shirts draped over your body with a pair of sweatpants

yet still, you look remarkable and he finds himself stumbling over his own feet at the sight of you

a reaction only you can provoke from the park jongseong

he’s sheepish at first, the bag of goodies behind his back and a dark crimson dusting his ears

and when you finally look up at him, his mouth runs dry

“evening”, you greet with a small nod

and it pains him — no hug, or kiss as usual? he’s really messed up

then, your eyes flit to the bag you can see behind his back, between his slightly patted legs

“i take it jungwon reminded you…”

“i’m so sorry. there’s no excuse. i forgot, and i own up to that but i love you so much and i know it’s probably much too late, but i’d still like to celebrate what’s left of the day if that’s okay…”

you’re not completely happy but the puppy dog eyes he’s giving you as well as the genuine apology he offered managed to butter you up enough to throw him a smile

and then, you’re patting the spot beside you

“you have a lot of grovelling to do, but this is a good start”

jay rushes to your side almost immediately, emptying the bag on the coffee table making you gasp

“goodness that’s a lot!”

“it’s not enough to make up for how much of a dumbass i am”

you merely smile, and reach over to kiss his cheek but jay seems to clock what you’re about to do and turns his head immediately

your lips meet the corner of his mouth and he smirks

“i believe you missed”

“unbelievable” you grumble, but nothing can stop you from pressing a chaste kiss to his lips

jay grins, leaning in to press an innumerable amount of kisses all over your face

and though you’re mad at him, you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth through your body

your boyfriend finishes his attack with a sweet peck to your nose

“happy two years, my love”

“happy two years, jay”

and to many more!

[wellgoslowly]

Lockwood and Co. How do I begin to talk about this insane universe that has literally changed my life in so many ways in such a small amount of time?

I think it was probably January 27th that I actually got the notification for the trailer for the show from Netflix’s Youtube. I don’t know exactly what it was that made me interested in the trailer in the first place and set it apart from the hundreds of trailers that netflix has posted that I’ve ignored, but there was just something about it that made me think “oh, this looks interesting, let me take a look at the trailer.” Thank god I did.

If I were to go back in time to that version of linnie and tell them that their life was about to be changed, I think they would’ve laughed. At that period of time I’d had a 2 year long hyperfixation on the grishaverse and I couldn’t think of anything that would’ve possibly broken me out of that long ass period of chaos. And then I watched Lockwood and Co and I immediately fell in love with an entirely new world.

Lockwood and co means so much to me for so many reasons. One of them is that I’ve never seen myself more reflected in a character than I see myself in Lucy Carlyle- hence the name Linnie. I didn’t even realize it until Aaron ( @queer-and-nerdy ) pointed it out (after I pointed out how much of a George kinnie they are) and then everything made sense in a way? Like Lucy Carlyle is the truest form of a comfort character for me because we are basically the same person and I never realized how special a character could be until I met Lucy Joan Carlyle.

Another reason why I love this universe so much is because I love found family, and I love the found family that Jonathan Stroud has written. The Iron Trio will always be so special to me because of how often it is shown and how deeply it is known that they love each other unconditionally, Even George and Lucy, who have their differences when they first meet, grow to love each other in their own way and I genuinely believe that the family found within the Iron Trio is one of the most beautiful relationships I’ve ever read or seen portrayed on screen.

I also just truly love the worldbuilding. The world that Jonathan Stroud has created has such an amazing homely feel to it that I will never tire of. I love literally everything about it- the lore, the execution, the way that he was able to make ghosts even more terrifying for such a young audience.

Lastly, I love the fandom. I’ve talked a little bit about how much a kind and welcoming fan space like the l&co tumblr means to me and how I have had rocky situations in a fandom in the past, but I truly cannot even begin to talk about how much this online space has truly changed me in so many ways. I feel like I can have open, honest, and constructive opinions on here without being scared to speak my mind or fear the repercussions of not being 100% happy all the time. This fandom is the most accepting and loving fandom I have ever known, and I’d like to tag a few of the people who have made this place so loving and enjoyable to partake in. Shout out to @ikeasupremacy @oblivious-idiot @losticaruss @youmanynotrestnow @neewtmas @thisgameissonintendo @readyafterthesunrise @waitingforthesunrise @yveni @uku-lelevillain @impossibleclair @donutcats @jesslockwood @kazbrekkerfast @krash-and-co @carlyleandco @biscuitrule @maraschinomerry @lockwood-lover @lvockwoods @givemea-dam-break @someonetooksendnoodles @nomolosk @thedonutdeliverygirl @neverendinglabyrinth @tangledinlove - I defo missed a lot of people but these are just the few that I could remember right off the top of my head <33

All in all, I love this show and these books and this world more than I could ever possibly express. Happy 10th Birthday to The Screaming Staircase, and a very Happy Lockwood & Co Day to all whom I have the honor of celebrating with. I love you all very dearly, and remember: “just reckless enough”.

xoxo,

linnie <3

[pumpkin-the-girlie-girl-vixen]

The Night I Met My Match: A Journey from Insecurity to Intimacy

In the quaint town of Stillwater, our paths crossed in a way that felt almost serendipitous. He walked the streets to greet me for the first time, a meeting we had both agreed would be a fleeting moment—just a one-night stand. Our connection originated online, through a fetish website I joined to help build my confidence. As a bigger girl struggling with self-esteem, I knew I needed to take that first step towards embracing who I am. I yearned to believe that I was beautiful just as I am, and I hoped that exposure to others who appreciated me would help me in my self-love journey.

My struggles with self-image were profound. I often told myself that I was not beautiful, sexy, or desirable, and the negativity felt suffocating. I’ve endured a lot of pain and disappointment throughout my life—from family, friends, partners, and even strangers—who have only fed into my insecurities. I often felt like the ugly, unattractive girl that no one would want to touch with a ten-foot pole, and I was exhausted from that mindset. While I appreciated the kind words from those who tried to uplift me, it was difficult to internalize them; I felt broken and damaged.

I embraced my identity as a chunky, curvy redhead with a big booty & big boobies. To protect myself from negative comments online, I decided to post on a fetish website where larger women are celebrated. I knew there were many people out there who preferred curvier figures, and I hoped that showcasing myself in this space would help me cultivate self-love. Thus began my journey on this platform, where I started to curate content more frequently, gradually increasing the boldness of my posts overtime.

In the beginning, I struggled with self-acceptance when it came to sharing nude photos. I would hesitate, feeling disgusted and embarrassed. However, rather than deleting these images, I allowed them to sit in my gallery for a few days while I built up the courage. Reassuringly I still often hype myself up to share, always eventually. I reminded myself that many people love redheads and curvy women, and while I might not see the beauty in myself, perhaps others would. This process of self-encouragement proved effective. Surprisingly, I experienced very little negativity, with only a couple of rude comments throughout my years on the site.

I didn’t join the platform to engage in sexual encounters; I was fearful of danger in all of its forms and I was simply not interested in flirty exchanges. Instead, I focused on the overwhelming attention I received, which was far more than I had ever experienced on any platforms anywhere else. The number of messages was astounding. The admiration others gave felt wonderful. I am grateful for the positive attention and engagement, appreciating how each interaction helped build my confidence, even if I never responded to direct messages, but I always make sure to heart react to each and every complimenting comment to show my appreciation, The heartfelt comments from my followers mean the world to me, even if they don’t realize their impact.

I was in shock, witnessing how uplifting this experience was for me from the beginning, and even presently today, and I’m positive continuing on this journey. While I still have my insecurities, I reached a point in my life where I can genuinely say that today I love myself and feel beautifully desirable, when before I couldn’t. This realization was monumental; I finally feel authentic in my self-affirmation.

However, as my self-love journey progressed, at the time I found myself feeling incredibly lonely. With the nagging love of encouragement from both my mother and best friend, I slowly began to consider putting myself out there again after a few years of being single following my divorce of eight excruciatingly, exhaustive, depressing, abusive, unsatisfactory, amount of years. On June 29, 2024, everything changed for me. Having gathered quite a substantial amount of followers over the years, I met someone who would become pivotal in my life. We agreed to a one-night stand, which I initially thought would be a simple encounter where after I’d kick him out treating him as a booty call. That’s what my intentions were and I expected to do just that, but thankfully fate had other plans.

As I met him that day, I couldn’t shake the feelings I immediately developed for this man, the feelings kept growing stronger and stronger as the hours passes, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t avoid myself from continuing opening up my heart to the risk of another person hurting me, especially in a matter of one night. I know that I am not easily convinced, easily persuaded, or easily impressed by anyone. {There are plenty of fish in the sea, but you know what else is in the sea, trash, a lot of trash. Luckily I ended up with a dimamond, a rare jewel I will not be able to ever replace. This diamond is my rock to this very day, so I take very good care of him.}

Even though it was daunting, I couldn’t ignore what my intuition was telling me. My body communicated in unspoken ways that this man was different. I could feel the intensity of that connection affecting me physically and emotionally. I struggled to suppress my emotions; I wanted to keep the physical sensations I was experiencing hidden from view. Yet, the strength of my feelings overflowed, spilling out in ways I couldn’t contain. My emotions manifested through my body language and facial expressions, revealing the truth beneath the invisible mask I tried to wear.

He was a remarkable person—genuine, relatable, and effortlessly charming. We connected instantly, spending hours talking through the night and experiencing a magnetic attraction that was undeniable. Baffled When we realized what time it was, before he left to head to work early that morning, he casually asked if he could return afterward his shift. At that moment, I realized I could see him becoming a significant part of my life. When I gazed into his eyes, I could sense that he would either be a lasting presence in my life or the one who would heartbreakingly leave me shattered.

What started as a one night booty call, blossomed into something far more beautifully profound. My journey of self-love had given me the resilience and confidence with my appearance, to finally be comfortable expressing my personality which led me to attract and retain an incredible man into my life. I’ve come so far, and now, I cherish every moment—both the beautiful ones and the challenging ones.

and now… every single day no matter how or what the circumstances may be, I think about him when the suns out and I think about him when I see the moon, and I believe that he will be in my brain forever and now until the end of time whether he’s present or absent. ♾️

@bigmikeyde ♾️ @pumpkin-the-girlie-girl-vixen ♾️

💚♾️🧡

[pankowcrumbs]

Fame

The vibrant red carpet stretched before Y/N like a sea of flashing lights and echoing voices. Her brother, a rising star and newly minted cast member of Kingsman: The Secret Service, walked confidently ahead, basking in the glow of his big moment. Y/N, already a celebrated actor in her own right, was here to support him—tonight wasn’t about her. She lingered a few paces behind, taking in the chaos with a warm, supportive smile.

“Y/N! Over here! Can we get a picture?” the paparazzi yelled. Despite herself, she obliged, pausing to flash a practiced grin before quickly rejoining her brother’s entourage. She hadn’t anticipated much attention tonight, but it seemed the world wasn’t about to ignore her presence.

It was in the midst of this chaos that she first saw him. Taron Egerton stood a few feet away, effortlessly charming a reporter with his signature smile. Dressed in a tailored black suit, his boyish features radiated confidence, but there was a softness to his demeanor that made him approachable. Y/N found herself momentarily captivated.

As if sensing her gaze, Taron glanced her way. Their eyes met—just a fleeting moment—but it was enough to make Y/N’s cheeks flush. She quickly looked away, focusing instead on her brother, who was now deep in conversation with Colin Firth.

“You're Y/N, right?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Taron, his warm hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“That’s me,” she replied, offering a friendly smile. “And you’re Taron.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his neatly styled hair. “Guilty as charged. I’ve seen a few of your films. You’re incredible.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from someone as talented as you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he quipped, his grin widening. “Are you here for the film, or…?”

“My brother’s in the cast,” she explained, gesturing toward the group ahead. “I’m just here to support him.”

Taron nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to meet someone who knows what this whirlwind feels like but isn’t caught up in it tonight.”

Their conversation flowed naturally, the noise and chaos around them fading into the background. Taron’s humor and genuine interest made Y/N feel at ease, and she found herself laughing more than she had in weeks. Before they knew it, the premiere was starting, and they were ushered inside.

The days that followed were a blur of headlines and social media buzz. Fan edits of Y/N and Taron on the red carpet flooded the internet, their brief interaction sparking speculation and ship names. At first, it was amusing—the edits were creative, the captions lighthearted—but as the rumors grew, so did the scrutiny.

Y/N’s phone buzzed incessantly with notifications. Her fans were largely supportive, but the darker corners of the internet were less kind. Anonymous comments picked apart her appearance, her career, even her intentions. It was overwhelming.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Taron’s voice on the other end of the line was a balm to her frayed nerves.

“You could say that again,” Y/N admitted, sinking onto her couch. “I didn’t think one conversation would turn into… this.”

“Neither did I,” he said, his tone laced with humor. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad we met. Maybe we should give them something real to talk about.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Are you saying…?”

“Let me take you out,” Taron offered. “Away from all this noise. Just you and me.”

Their first date was perfect in its simplicity. Taron picked her up in a modest car, far from the flashy rides the tabloids might expect. They drove to a quiet little restaurant on the outskirts of the city, where the staff greeted Taron like an old friend. Over candlelight and hearty food, they talked about everything—their childhoods, their careers, their dreams for the future. Taron’s easygoing nature and genuine interest in her life made Y/N feel seen in a way she hadn’t in years.

As the night wore on, they found themselves walking along a nearby riverbank. The city lights reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over their surroundings. Taron reached for her hand, his touch tentative but warm.

“I know this might be moving fast,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I really like you, Y/N. And I don’t want to let the press or the fans dictate how we go about this.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart full. “I like you too, Taron. And I’m willing to figure this out with you, one step at a time.”

Their relationship wasn’t without its challenges. The fan edits evolved into invasive paparazzi photos, and the online hate grew louder with each public outing. But through it all, Y/N and Taron leaned on each other, their connection strengthening with every obstacle they faced.

One evening, as they sat side by side on her living room couch, scrolling through a mix of supportive and hurtful comments, Taron took her hand.

“You know what I’ve learned?” he said, his voice steady. “The people who matter—our families, our real friends—they see us for who we are. Not for what the tabloids say, or what some stranger on the internet thinks.”

Y/N nodded, his words resonating deeply. “You’re right. And as long as we have each other, we can handle anything.”

Taron smiled, pulling her into his arms. “Exactly.”

In that moment, Y/N realized that while the world around them might always be chaotic, their relationship was a safe haven. Together, they could weather any storm.

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Chapter 18

Ch. 18 | Ao3

Big thanks as always to my besties @popjunkie42 and @witch-and-her-witcher without whom, this fic would be a dumpster fire lol.

TW in this chapter for implied, offscreen SA.

Feyre walked into court two days later with her head held high, despite the eyes of the high fae that followed her across the floor behind Rhysand. 

It had become a gentle balancing act, now that she’d been singled out by Amarantha and punished. She was no longer able to fit neatly into the background while Calla took the primary interest–she would need to figure out how to navigate being both a captive toy and strong enough to not tempt Amarantha’s hand. 

“She can sniff out weakness like a bloodhound on a scent. You taking the whippings the way you did was the best possible move in your favor.” 

Rhys had explained to Feyre in detail while they got ready that, though Amarantha would never admit it, it was the fear and weakness of others that both got her off and disgusted her. Being bold and strong wouldn’t gain Feyre her respect, but it also wouldn’t draw her predatory instincts. She was out for blood, and she was attracted to the people she knew she could make hemorrhage. 

Rhys had sent Nuala and Cerridwen away for the night, choosing instead to spend time alone with Feyre while they prepared. He’d braided her hair himself, her body relaxing while his gentle but strong fingers tugged through the strands, separating and plaiting them into three neat rows. 

“How do you know how to braid so well?”

“The Illyrians use ceremonial braids for the Blood Rite and annual celebrations. Gods know I’ve plaited my brothers’ hair enough that I should know. But in those early years we may have been left looking a little rough.” Feyre could see the faint smile gracing his lips as he remembered, and it brought her joy. She loved his fingers in her hair, the feeling of them grounding her, allowing her to steady her breath and steel her nerves for the night ahead. They’d specifically chosen a draping gown, deep navy with gems sparkling in it like midnight stars. It showed her full back, the twining scars now healed and pink and criss crossed over the expanse of exposed skin. It was a showcase; it was a statement.

“Are you okay?” His tender words set her heart alight, always tending to her despite the chaos around them. 

“I’m alright. I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Are you?” Rhys had been through a lot in the past week, his eyes haunted in the aftermath of it all, no matter the expression on his face. His nightmares were shaking him awake, and though she pretended to sleep through them for his sake, she was always ready to pull herself closer when he wrapped himself around her for comfort after one. 

When she’d asked where he’d been during the whippings, the only information she’d gotten from him was that he’d gone to Summer to oversee a “lesson” meted out by Amarantha. She wasn’t thrilled with the outcome of events with the fae who had tried to flee. The look in Rhys’s eyes told her she didn’t want more information than that. 

“I am as good as I ever am here, so long as I am with you.” He raised her hand to his mouth, lips ghosting over her knuckles as he smiled, looking up at her through his lashes. Though his dreams and eyes were worried, she could tell his smiles for her were genuine. 

“Do you feel prepared to act how you must?” She nodded. They had discussed it ad nauseum. “You must submit to me in front of them, but show no fear in the face of what’s happened. Do you understand?” Rhys asked as he clipped the diamond collar around her throat, passing his fingers softly beneath it before pulling away.

Feyre thought she did in theory, but it was complicated. She was to make herself outwardly subordinate while still remaining relentless and strong in the face of what had happened. She wanted to be confident and steady, wanted to believe that she had already survived the worst, but a nagging voice in her head reminded her of all the other ways being confident had gone wrong. Being here beneath the mountain was messing with her mind, layers upon layers of psychological torture constantly pounding in on her from all sides. All she could do was listen to Rhys and do her best– she needed to remember the reason they were here and what they fought for above all else. 

The court was already packed tonight since they were arriving after dinner. They’d missed the last few nights due to her whippings and figured missing dinner for one more wouldn’t be noted. As they made their way through the throngs of people to their normal area, Feyre focused on the swish of her gown around her ankles. She looked ahead, but made her eyes unseeing, made her face unfeeling as she lifted her chin, zeroing in instead of the broad strength of Rhys’s shoulders and the sway of him as he walked. 

I can feel your eyes on me, love. She could hear the smile in his voice. 

My eyes are always on you. 

Chin up. 

Yes, sir. 

She watched his nearly imperceptible shudder and fought to hide her own smile as they ascended to their seat. The music was loud tonight, and it seemed as though the court had gotten an early start on drinking and merriment. The fae around them mingled and danced, and did so with great abandon. Feyre settled on the ground between Rhys’s legs, her own legs curling to one side beneath her as she watched the swirling crowds of people. 

Can you see their glamours?

Yes.

Lucien had explained to her how his ability to see through the glamours worked, talked her through the basics and practiced with her until she could unwind the ones that Lucien and Rhys threw at her. It was an easy enough task that had gotten her through the last two days of healing. He described it as, if you looked hard enough, being able to see sort of a mist around things, a glowing aura of something not quite right. Now that she’d found it before, it was easy to see, and she marveled at how she’d ever missed it before. She saw fae who had changed their noses, or the tint of their skin from blue to orange to purple. There were others who had manipulated their ears, their hair, and even a few disguising large, lovely wings from those around them. Feyre found herself delighted to see that Amarantha herself had used a small glamour to hide a blemish on her face, and tried to keep her amusement tamped down. 

Her eyes scanned each of the High Lords, livid to find Lucien’s mother with bruises glamoured from sight, sitting dutifully beside her scowling husband. The rest of the High Lords sat mostly alone, their entourages nearby, but none other than Beron with a spouse or paramour. As she reached the end of the line, her eyes met the amber ones staring back. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him; his eyes always seemed to follow her around the court. He looked familiar to her, past just seeing him here in this hell beneath the mountain, but she had no idea where she could have possibly seen him before. The way he looked at her made her nervous, as though he could see each of her secrets and plucked them one by one from her skin. 

Everything okay? Rhys’s voice pulled her focus away from the High Lord of the Day Court. 

Yes, just looking. I would check if you have any glamours on out here, but I can’t exactly turn around. 

He gave a friendly little tug on her leash. 

Nothing on me you haven’t seen, Feyre darling. 

No secret tattoo of my name across your chest?

You’d like that, wouldn’t you? 

Their banter helped her feel focused here, the easy back and forth of it was the most normality she could find in this strange place of horror and too much sound. Part of her wanted to use this time to plot, to plan, to figure out what the hell they were going to do with the situation they had on their hands. Feyre had spoken to Rhys at length about Calla in the last few days, sparing no details about the conversation they’d had deep down in the dungeons. He’d looked as concerned as she felt, the little worry lines furrowing between his brows as she replayed the memory of it all for him that night. 

“Do you trust that she won’t tell anyone?” 

“I want to.”

“But do you?”

Feyre had agonized over it, whether or not her knowledge was a danger to the two of them or the chances of them being freed. She felt guilty about many things, first and foremost that she was even considering using her powers to barge in on the mind of a friend and alter things. In addition to that, the things that Calla had said to her echoed around in her mind like a scream in an endless cavern. Feyre was getting better treatment. She was in better circumstances. And the fate of the world did not rest on her shoulders, either. Having someone who cared for her, who was taking care of her, who wasn’t only there for her as a lover, but a friend, too–it made their circumstances as different as night and day. 

All my dreams just consisted of being loved.

Calla’s words echoed in her head. No wonder she was angry. 

“Feyre, I can feel you beating yourself up over this. This doesn't fall on you.” 

“You weren’t with her. I could practically feel the despair. If she gives up, what do we have left? What other options are there?” He was silent, no response to her question. “And regardless of that, she’s my friend. What kind of person am I to leave her down in the dark while I get to be here with you, warm and fed and happy?”

“You took ten lashes this week.” 

“And I healed in the room of a High Lord.”

“Feyre, it isn’t the same–”

“It is the same. When she hurt herself killing the worm, she had to heal in damp darkness on a straw pallet. Yes, you healed her, but she was dirty and cold and alone.” 

“The worm that you saved her from, Feyre.”

“ She doesn’t know that!”

“So tell her!”

She sighed. This wasn’t getting them anywhere except for making her stomach turn at the guilt she felt. “Changing her memory is a huge violation of her autonomy, Rhys. I don’t want to do it unless we’re absolutely sure we have to.”

“I understand. I do. But the second it becomes a threat, we have to act on it. I won’t risk you, and we can’t risk this.”

Feyre nodded–she knew he was right. Truly, she believed Calla was depressed, but perhaps they just needed to double down in their efforts to help her. If Feyre could help her solve the riddle, that would be the best possible scenario, but until then, perhaps there was more they could do. 

"I hate this.” 

Rhys had taken her hands in his own. “What can we do to help?” 

“I think if she could see sunlight, maybe that would help things.”

“There is simply no way here. No one sees the sun.”

“There aren’t any rooms here above the ground that she could be assigned to for chores?” 

“No, everything is below now. The rooms with balconies have been sealed for a long time.”

Feyre deflated. It had been her only real idea. “We just have to keep supporting her and hoping she holds out.” They knew the next task was coming soon; another amphitheater had been blocked off the previous day, and the rumor mill was already churning. There was nothing helpful, of course, but Feyre and Rhys were vigilantly listening for any clues they could pass on. 

Feyre wondered if Calla would feel better or worse if she had to come see the court of horrors here every night. Honestly, Feyre still wasn’t sure how she felt about it, even with as commonplace as it had become. She was certain she should feel something more than she did about it, but many things had become numb to her here. She’d been whipped to the bone in this very room, within eyeshot of where she now sat, and still, it didn’t make her flinch as it should have. 

A nudge at her back pulled her from her thoughts. 

By the drink tables, far east corner.

Feyre let her eyes move slowly so as not to raise any suspicion in case anyone was watching her. There, through the shadows of the great pillars and the overhang behind them, paced a figure covered nearly entirely in the darkness of the hall. The flash of blonde hair and ornate mask gave him away. 

What’s he doing?

My guess is waiting for you. Do you want to speak with him?

She hesitated, but she knew her answer and so did Rhys. 

“Pet, how about you go fetch us some food and drinks?” he said aloud, his voice cloying and patronizing for any close enough to hear. He unhooked the collar and gave her a little shove forward while Feyre put on her best glare. 

Thank you. 

Feyre made her way down the steps and to the dark partial hallways surrounding the massive room and leading out. She wondered, not for the first time, how structurally sound this court might actually be. Could a single night of too much revelry bring it all down around them? Some might consider that a blessing, she was certain. 

Nearer to the food tables but not close enough to be readily noticed, she paused behind one of the marble pillars, leaning against it in the shadows and taking a deep breath. Tamlin was on the other side of the refreshments, but he was facing the crowd. He leaned against his own pillar with his feet crossed at the ankle, his arms banded across his chest as he peered tightly across the crowd. 

He looked horrible; not even the mask was able to hide his exhaustion and defeat.

Feyre closed her eyes and breathed in, going inside herself and reaching out with her mind until she found that heavy wall of ivy. It seemed to breathe in and out like a sentient thing, the vines pulling back as though they’d been waiting for her.  

Feyre . 

Tamlin’s voice spoke her name like an exhale, a relief. It had been so long since she’d heard the familiar voice of her friend that she nearly sobbed, catching the sound right before it left her throat and fixing her face back into closed-eyed complacency as though she were simply taking a breath. 

You have so much explaining to do. 

She could feel his own relief and joy at hearing her answer, and her chest swam with emotion. 

I am so sorry, Feyre. For everything. 

What were you thinking? 

I thought if I stepped in, she’d kill you both. If she knew either of you meant anything to me, you’d be as good as dead. As it is, the glamour on you is probably the only thing that kept you alive. 

Feyre knew this, but hearing it from him still made her swallow down a knot of anxiety. 

It still felt awful. 

He was quiet for so long that Feyre began to wonder if he’d heard her at all. 

I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could say. I wish we weren’t here. 

You ignored me, shut me out. I’ve been trying to get into your head since we got here. 

I won’t risk it that close to her. She has stolen powers that no one even knows about. What if she could tell? What if she caught you? 

he thought, unsurprisingly, had not occurred to Feyre. She wanted to rub her hand across her face and scream. Every road here met a dead end, every way she tried to help had one more obstacle blocking her and making it harder. 

I am so deeply sorry, Feyre. 

If suffering had a sound, it would be Tamlin’s voice. He sounded broken, tired, a detached version of himself. Even in his mind, she’d never heard his voice so quiet. 

Are you okay? 

No.

The answer was immediate, and she felt the truth of it with every fiber of her being. 

Are you? 

I’m okay. He’s being good to me. 

If I thought he wasn’t, we’d have a much bigger problem on our hands. 

She laughed a little despite herself. She could see just a glimpse of the Tamlin she remembered, the one she considered her family. She wished that they could speak face to face. 

The second task is coming tomorrow. The truth of it nearly sent Feyre recoiling into the pillar. She’d known it was soon, but hearing it spoken so plainly was jarring. 

Do you know what it is?

No, only that it isn’t a physical test. 

Some kind of riddle then? Calla was clever, and a riddle might be doable, despite the fact that they still hadn’t managed to figure out Amarantha’s. 

Any clues? 

Nothing, I’m sorry. My guess is a trap released by solving a puzzle of some sort. I couldn’t get more out of her without risking giving myself away.

Feyre believed he was telling the truth, but looked at the walls of his mind anyway. What would she find if she delved deeper? The temptation was there a moment before it disappeared, but not before she noticed how tightly wound the vines were around certain areas. He was hiding something, but Feyre didn’t think it was information on the trials. 

How did you get this information, Tam?

She could feel his disgust and shame rolling around the space of his consciousness. Please don’t ask. Please don’t look. 

Her heart broke for him, and she ached again for those nights back on the porch when everything had been simpler. She wanted to tell him things were going to be okay, but who was she to make those promises?

Thank you for what you did for me during the first task. Thank you for what you’re doing now. 

Me? You saved her. I watched what you did. 

She would have died otherwise. 

I know. 

We are all making the sacrifices we must. 

From across the room, she saw his head tilt towards her, just for a moment. It was near imperceptible, could have even been attributed as a trick of the light, but for a moment, his eyes met hers and the pain in them blew her away. 

She could see in his mind a flash of what he was looking at, the leather band she still wore on her arm. 

You still wear it?

No one ever took it from me. I think they all just thought it was something worthless from home.

Around her in the darkness she could hear something like a sigh. 

Luckily, I haven’t had to use it. But they were half right. It is something from home. 

The silence felt pained around her, an ebbing and flowing of deep grief and shame and guilt and love. 

We understand, Tamlin. 

It doesn’t make it right. 

Nothing is right here, but we’re fighting to change that. That’s what matters. I’ll warn Calla about the task. 

How is she? 

Feyre faltered over how much she should tell him. 

She is…not well. We’re doing all we can, but I think she’s starting to give up hope. 

Please tell her why I did what I did. 

She already knows. Feyre could feel the confusion around her. Rhys told us what you were doing, your intent, the first day we arrived here. I just passed the message along. 

She could feel his conflict. Please thank him for me. I worried you would hate me forever. I wondered if that was safer. 

We’re still family, Tam. If you still want us to be. 

Though he watched the room with an immovable face of stone, Feyre could feel the swelling emotions within him. She began to move towards the table of food to complete her mission, sensing the conversation was coming to a close. 

You’ll always be family to me. 

She went to respond, but was met with only empty darkness where the ivy had rushed closed in the wake of his words. When she looked back at the pillar, he was gone. 

The silence in her mind felt suddenly immense, the loss of the presence of someone else harsh after so much back and forth. His haggard appearance sent a pang of concern straight to her heart, and she could barely remember how that anger towards him had felt before. Now, her heart broke for him, and she couldn’t help but think about the fact that he was entirely alone. She’d had Rhys this whole time, and even Lucien, at times. Had Tamlin spoken to anyone except Amarantha since their capture? He and Calla weren’t so unalike after all, at least not in this situation. Feyre had landed smack dab in the middle of a pool of luck when she came here, and now she was left wondering how she might be able to help pick up the pieces of those around her. Perhaps Lucien could find a way to speak with him tonight, too, now that the reins were loosened a bit, but Feyre hadn’t seen him all night. 

After making her way around the food and beverages, she balanced the plate of food and two goblets in her arms and meandered back to where Rhys sat. Though she knew it was wrong, she felt her worries about Tamlin and Calla being displaced as she headed back towards Rhys. His eyes followed her across the room. She loved the violet hue of them, the sparkle and luster as they tracked her, both those of a doting spouse and a predator with its prey. She fought a shiver as she remembered the day in front of the fireplace and met his eyes as she recalled each time since. It was getting more and more difficult to hold herself back in his presence, her entire countenance so affected by him, but she had insisted she would let him instigate at all steps. She hadn’t broken that vow yet, and she didn’t plan to. 

He looked at her from beneath thick, dark lashes as she set the goblets and the plate down on the little table beside them. Perhaps she could use some of the privacy that the lustrous tulle skirt provided to touch his leg, even just a bit. She ached to have her hands on him, a constant burning in her chest to be closer, nearer, more . As she gathered her skirts to turn and sink back to the ground at his feet, she felt a metallic tang and heard a click, the collar snapping back into place just before he gave her a forceful tug backwards and into his lap. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d sat on him in the throne room, not by a long shot, but the energy of the movement had the breath rushing from her lungs as his hands found her hips, fingers sinking into the flesh where the slits rode up her thighs. She kept her face carefully blank, if not a bit surprised, as she eased into sitting primly on him. Rhys shifted his legs, her weight falling more fully into his lap.

Feeling possessive?

The responding growl echoed through her mind at the same time as it rumbled through her back. 

You have no idea. 

Easy, big guy. 

She laughed in her mind, settling in as he picked through the foods she’d set on the platter. For all the horrors beneath the mountain, Feyre couldn’t say the food wasn’t impeccable. Every single thing she’d eaten here was delicious, the flavors and spices and herbs a feast for all senses. There were figs wrapped in delicate meats, so thin you could see straight through them. Tiny slivers of bread toasted to a hearty crispness and doused in herbed butter, little edible leaves decorating the smear. She’d eaten the flakiest pastries, coated in the finest sugars, that melted in your mouth the second they fell on your tongue. Even with training physically and the chores, she’d filled out since coming from Spring, something Rhys appreciably noted every time his hands found his way to her thighs, hips, or backside. 

He picked an olive up in his fingers, the oil dripping off it near sinfully as he brought it slowly to her mouth. She forced her face to look obstinate, her lips pursed closed, as though it were all part of the game. Rhys just smiled, a cruel, wicked thing curved across his face. 

“Open wide,” he crooned, as his other hand came to squeeze her jaw. She opened, closing her lips around his fingers, then dragging her teeth delicately along the skin. While his expression didn’t change, Feyre could feel the rumbling in his chest entirely throughout her body as he looked down at her. Her body responded, a tight, coiled heat in her stomach that always seemed to alight when he was close by roaring to life. 

Shall I feed you, too? She injected pure flirtation across the bridge of their minds, her face giving nothing away as her thoughts swam with intimacy. She tried to send him a visual, the passionate imaginings of it as she turned in his lap slightly. Feyre felt him tense beneath her, though she wasn’t sure if it was their position or her question, and when she looked at his face, she was surprised to find his eyes wide. 

It’s…Not with Amarantha watching–it might be taken as us getting too comfortable. 

Good point , though his abrupt hesitation had given her pause. You okay?

Of course, love. Just being over-careful. I don’t want to do anything else that would put you at risk.

She didn’t want to give Amarantha any single reason to single her out again if she could help it, either. 

He continued to feed her and himself, alternating piece by piece until most of the food was gone and Feyre was all but writhing with heat under his gaze. They’d both stolen small sips of the fae wine, and Feyre could feel a pleasant buzz sizzling around the edges of her mind. Rhys leaned back again in the massive chair, pulling her back to his chest and forcing her to relax against him, despite the fire thrumming through her veins. 

Easy, darling. 

It’s your fault.  

His dark, echoing laugh through her thoughts did nothing to temper the flame, nor did his warm, broad fingers stroking up and down the top of her exposed thigh as her legs fell to either side of his. She had to remind herself to keep the scowl planted on her face outwardly, despite the music of his touch singing within her.

Feyre focused on the crowd in front of her, most mindless with the music, drink, and dancing of the night. It was late, closer to departure than to their arrival, and people were out of their minds, their bodies sweating and writhing against each other in the crowd as others swayed and looked on. The lights had lowered, as they always did by this time of night, and she could feel her body relaxing into Rhys’s. 

What would her sisters think if they could see her now? If they could see this party with its half-clothed people all but copulating in front of hundreds of others? Surely, the guests of their masquerade would have balked. The idea nearly made Feyre giggle. 

She thought back to that night, the prim chords of the band playing a lilting tune as she walked around darkened corners of the ballroom. She had wanted to go, to be anywhere else, but fate had known where she needed to be. She remembered wondering what it might be like to meet a handsome man who was something more than the rest, one who would whisk her off not just for love, but for adventure, too. 

She’d certainly gotten her adventure. 

His fingers traced patterns along her thighs, skirting over the top into the valleys between. The rhythm of it was soothing, almost comforting, but his proximity to her and the charged energy between them had Feyre doing anything but relaxing. 

Did you ever think, when you saw me that night, what it might feel like to have my hands on your body? 

Yes. 

He hummed. I did too. I thought you might be the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. His fingers crept closer between her legs and under her skirts as her chest rose and fell on top of his. 

And now?

And now I’m certain you are. 

Feyre grinned, remembering the heated kiss they’d shared beneath the willow that night. She’d had no way off knowing where they’d be now, nearly a year later. 

Suddenly, she realized herself, wiping the smile from her face and looking around in a moment of panic. 

Had anyone seen? 

Her eyes shot to Amarantha, relieved to find she was busy looking bored demanding something from the attor across the room. Feyre took a deep breath. 

Whether Rhys had felt her pause and stiffen or not, she couldn’t say, but his hands hadn’t stopped their wandering, each pass taking them closer and closer to the pulsing heat between her thighs. She could feel how wet she was, slick against her thighs as each faint but purposeful touch left a trailing fire in its wake. 

Perhaps it's time we return to our room, hm?

His voice was rough with need, the want of it intoxicating to her.

Yes, please. 

The court was wild with the chaos of drunken revelry, the lanterns so low that Feyre could hardly make out faces as Rhys led her from the hall. She ached to touch him, to feel his hands on her body, and part of her wished he’d simply push her against the wall and shove her skirts aside, getting to their room be damned. She was aflame, alive with need, couldn’t wait a single second more. The second they hit the hallway, Rhys was winnowing, his hands gripping the bodice of her gown and tearing it apart before their feet even touched the floor of their room. 

She gasped at the cold air against her chest, her nipples hardening achingly at the abrupt change. With no further warning, his fingers wrapped around the chain of her collar and pulled , the motion whipping their bodies tightly together, a key in a lock. His lips were on her, and her hands were in his hair. Their movements were frenzied, hot and urgent, as though the waiting had driven them to near madness. They staggered onto the bed, a giggle pushing out of Feyre while Rhys grunted, grabbing her under the arms and hefting her up to the pillows while hardly breaking their contact. 

“Feyre, I want you,” Rhys whispered through kisses, his breathing as heavy as hers. 

“Then take me, Rhys. I’ve been yours since the moment we met.” His eyes found hers beneath tousled hair, heart racing at the thought that so few people ever got to see him so undone. He slowed then, taking the remains of her dress in his hands and easing it down over her hips and legs, tossing it aside and repeating the process with her underwear. 

“Beautiful.” He kissed up her body, the breaths ragged as they left her lungs and she arched into his warmth. She let her fingers roam over his shoulders and chest, undoing each button one by one until his tunic fell open and she could push it away and down his arms. The broad expanse of his chest was a delight to her, hands reaching endlessly for more as her fingers slid across soft skin. She rose up to sit in front of him, pressing touches and kisses onto his tattoos and scars as he sighed, the frenzy of before melted away into unhurried exploration. 

When Rhys finally laid her back against the pillows, holding her softly but assuredly as he shed the rest of his clothing, Feyre took him in for a final time. His hair was a mass of waves, no longer slick and neatly combed, his eyebrows ruffled, lips kissed red, and violet eyes focused on nothing but her. He was undone by her, the promise of the two of them coming together leaving that mask he forced himself to wear entirely behind. She had done that, and instead of feeling lightheaded with the power of it, she was humbled by what it meant to her. 

His fingers danced across her collarbone, the click of the collar the only tell as he gently removed it from her neck, pressing a row of light kisses along where it had been as he set it aside. He lowered himself over her, his hips slotting perfectly between her legs, open to welcome him as if their bodies knew it was where he belonged. 

“My heart belongs to you, Rhysand. Always.” 

He shut his eyes, the words setting something alight deep inside of him, and he bowed his head to kiss her, his hips readying to press forward–

The pounding on the door nearly sent Feyre jumping out of her skin. Rhys let his head fall, forehead pressing against her shoulder as he sighed. The knocking grew louder and more insistent. 

“Get under the covers.” His voice was soft, and she did as he asked as he threw a glamour over her for good measure to make the bed appear empty. Feyre could see why people feared him as he stalked angrily towards the door, putting his pants back on with a wave of his hand, his shoulders tense and stance angry as he ripped the door nearly off its hinges. 

“ What? ” he gritted out at the guard in the hallway. 

“Her highness the queen requests your presence immediately in her chambers.” Even with the visible anger still coursing through him, Feyre could see his shoulders drop. 

“Tell her I will change and be on my way.” 

“Do you need a guard to watch the–” Rhys didn’t even let him finish. 

“No. She’s chained in the bathroom. She won’t be a concern. Get out.” He slammed the door in the guard’s face, his entire body slumping in defeat the moment it locked. 

The silence hung heavy between them, Feyre still naked under the sheets, the promise of everything the night should have been evaporating into thin air as Rhys hung his head. Amarantha hadn’t called him to her rooms since Feyre had arrived, and from her conversation with Tamlin she’d assumed that she’d been too distracted. But now…

“Do you think she knows?” Her anxious words were out before she could stop them. She hated to add more worry onto his shoulders. She stepped from the bed, wrapping the sheet around her and coming to stand at his side. 

“I don’t know. Truly.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, the distress etched deeply into his face. “I thought she’d given up.” Feyre's heart tore in two at the sadness in his voice, at the burden that this task would put on his shoulders. 

She wanted to tell him, now, how deeply and truly she loved him. She needed him to know that she understood– that she wasn’t holding any of this against him. He had to know that she would be here when he returned, feeling the same way about him as she did in this very moment. 

“It doesn’t change things between us, Rhys. I knew this was a possibility, and I know you have to keep up appearances with her. It does not alter my feelings for you.” 

e pulled her close, clasping his hand around her wrist and tugging her to his chest as though she were the only thing keeping him tethered as he pressed his face into her hair. “I hate her. I can’t–” His voice cracked. “I can’t bear the thought of touching her now that you’re here. I can’t bear it, Feyre.” 

There was nothing else for her to say, no words that she could offer him to make this right. There was no making this right. Instead, she simply held him, allowing the few moments they had to be enough for her to push all the love and acceptance and understanding and adoration into his skin with the comforting touch of her hands on his back. 

She couldn’t tell him she loved him now– wouldn’t taint the memory like this– but she would show him in the ways she knew how. She would embrace him until she chased away all of the pain that she could. He relaxed into her arms, at least as much as his mind would allow, and she could swear she felt those same emotions beaming back at her across the strange and near tangible bridge that always made her feel so connected to Rhys. Was it the power she shared with him that allowed them to feel this close? 

When they’d used every second of time allowed to them, he pressed his lips to hers again, tender and slow. 

“I’ll come back soon, I promise.” 

She held her hand against his jaw, her fingers moving soothingly in the scruff of raven-dark hair at his neck. “I know. I’ll still be here.” He closed his eyes, nodding, and then he was gone. 

After staring into the empty room for a few moments, hand still outstretched as though to caress his face, she moved on. She bathed, washing the remaining makeup and paint from her body, then redressed in her trousers and one of Rhys’s larger tunics. She considered all the ways she might distract herself from what was happening beneath this very mountain as she paced. She refused to think of it. She would be strong for Rhys as he had been strong for her. She would not give Amarantha what she wanted. 

Feyre went through her training routine twice, holding the positions and and continuing reps until she was sweating and physically couldn’t hold them anymore. She held a plank until her arms shook with exertion, her stomach and legs turned to jelly beneath her. And when her body tired, she sat on the stone floor and worked her mind, forcing her magic to cycle through each of the courts one by one. Her magic had grown immeasurably since she’d first arrived in Prythian. Excessive use of it still tired her out, all the while simultaneously invigorating her like a cold dip in a mountain stream. She felt more alive than ever before when she used it, the water turned to ice turned to fire in the palm of her hand. 

What would she do if she failed? If she remained mortal and could never use these powers again? 

She refused to think it, shaking her head as she continued to work herself to the bone. She sat and focused on winnowing, trying to fold the place she sat into the place she wanted to go. Both Lucien and Rhys had described the process to her, but unlike everything else, she couldn’t make her magic obey. 

You need to visualize where you need to go. Make your magic understand that it’s where you need to be. 

Lucien’s explanation wasn’t the problem. It was that she simply couldn’t seem to convince her magic to take her anywhere. Groaning in frustration, she switched distractions. Feyre took up Rhys’s spare sword from the mantle, practicing the positions and combinations she’d memorized and run through so studiously with Lucien and Andras. As she threw the sword through the air, she imagined it was Amarantha’s twisted face she was slicing into, cleaving her head from her shoulders and letting the mop of red hair fall to the floor like a glob of blood. She pictured it until she smiled, doubling down on her vow to help Calla succeed here. 

Feyre would enjoy nothing more than to see Amarantha suffer at Feyre’s own hands–except, perhaps, seeing her suffer at Rhys’s. She let the motions take her as she fell into her daydreams, easily settling into a pattern and moving without thinking as the sword wound through the air around her. She nicked her arm with it, yanking her from the trance only long enough to use her power to heal it, then she resumed right where she left off.     

When Feyre had exhausted herself so thoroughly that she couldn’t hold her limbs or her eyelids up, she took off her trousers and crawled into the bed, surrounding herself in the smell of Rhys. She had hoped that she’d tired herself out enough that sleep would find her until he returned, but her mind wouldn’t stop running laps about why Amarantha had called him there tonight. Had she seen something? Perhaps she had been watching when Feyre had smiled. What if all this had been Feyre’s fault?

The thought was too horrid to consider, and she shut it down immediately. She wondered, vaguely, if she could control her own mind into sleeping. She’d need to ask Rhys when he returned. And then she was, again, thinking of where Rhys was, and what he was being made to do, and the cycle began all over again. 

This was torture–pure and absolute–and it felt criminal that there wasn’t anything more she could do right now to stop it or to help him. She chewed at her cuticles until they bled, the bitter, metallic taste of blood the only way she’d noticed at all. Not for the first time, Feyre wished that Vincent or Vilja had been able to tell her more about her role in all this. Surely, it couldn’t just be to encourage Calla. She had used her magic to help, but there had to be more that she could do– more to it than that. 

Patience, Feyre. She tried to remind herself daily. The goal here is to accomplish your end of the bargain–make him fall in love with you, and you’ll keep the powers that will help to set him and everyone else free. 

It was her mantra, her hymn. 

At the very least, she was certain she was on the right path in that regard. Rhys loved her, she felt it in her very marrow. Every time he looked at her, she knew it as surely as she knew that the sky was blue and the sun was still rising outside of this place. She could feel the echoes of it even now, as he was being put through the cruelest torture of his life. She knew he loved her, and she would give him the time he needed to say the words. That part, at least, she could do. 

As for the second trial, Feyre would tell Calla what she knew first thing in the morning. She would get Rhys to take her to the dungeons to pass the information along, and the leg up on Amarantha’s tasks would be enough to buoy Calla’s spirits. 

Feyre just needed to continue being positive and pushing forward, and things would be okay. She’d survived this far, and so had Calla, and Rhys, and Lucien, and Tamlin. 

They would be okay. 

She grabbed some of the fire from the lanterns around the room, dimming the light but keeping enough so that Rhys could find his way when he returned. Then she pulled the covers over the lower half of her face, relaxing her head down into his pillow and breathing deep. She loved the smell of him, and, half intoxicated with it and the promise of hope, she allowed herself to close her eyes and slip into sleep. 

Her eyes had barely been closed for what felt like moments when she heard the telltale sound of shoes on stone. In the near-dark, she could see his form hunched over, his shoulders sagging and hair a mess. Without a second thought, she was out of the bed and across the room. Her feet had never touched the floor. 

Bloodshot eyes met hers, the pain in them nearly absorbed by the shock. 

“Feyre, you winnowed.” She didn’t stop to consider, didn’t stop at all as she threw her arms around him. 

She held him, and he stayed still, though she could feel him lean against her, his weight on her body and heart. Her hands stroked his hair, his back, soothing him in the ways that she could. He didn’t scream, didn’t cry, didn’t rage, didn’t speak at all, just let his body rely on hers for the moment, the quiet around them serving as a buffer from the horrors they faced. 

After she’d coaxed him into a bath, she put out fresh clothes for him on the counter. Feyre remade the bed, fixing the sheets and covers and fluffing the pillows so they’d be cool. He emerged from the bathroom, skin rubbed red and raw and hair still dripping, but he slipped quietly in next to her. Immediately he curled down, laying his head on her chest as she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing the knots out gently as it dried between her fingers. She could tell from his evened out breathing that he had fallen asleep, his heart rate slowing as his body exited fight or flight. The tension remained, but she couldn’t fault him that after what he’d been through. 

Feyre let her fingers softly roam, leaving his hair to touch his brows and cheekbones, his jaw and ears. On his neck, a slim cut sat in the hollow of his throat. A dried bead of blood had hardened at the bottom, and Feyre tried to exile the thought from her head that it might have been from a sharp, red thumbnail or why the hand might have been there in the first place. The white hot rage that overtook her at the thought set her ablaze, and she could feel the fire magic swirling just beneath her skin, looking for a way out–a victim. She knew exactly where she’d direct it if she could.

Instead, she pressed her fingertips to the wound, letting the last of her tired magic calm and flow through her and into him as the skin knit back together. She wanted him to have no physical reminders of tonight, a blank slate where the emotional baggage was all he’d have to face in the morning. She wished she could take that, too. 

Could she?

The thought tangled in her consciousness and took root. She had told herself she wouldn’t enter any minds without their consent, but this was Rhys–she was already in his mind most of the time anyway. She slipped inside, the familiar walls of adamant greeting her like a friend as she stroked them, asking for entry. Even in sleep, it was granted immediately. Feyre made an effort to not poke around, looking only for the feelings and emotional toll the night had caused, not the memories of it or anything else. 

Now that she was here, surrounded by the warm blanket of his thoughts, she could feel the tendrils of shame and embarrassment, self hate and fear. She focused on those strings of emotions, caressing them as they passed around her, soothing them and projecting her own feelings into them. She focused on pushing the love she felt for him, the kindness she knew was in his heart, the way her body reacted when she was near him, her dedication to staying by his side. She avoided his memories while showing him her own: the night at the ball, the kiss beneath the willow, each and every time she fell asleep looking at the stars in his ring and hoping that she would dream of him. She showed him the emotions when she was finally here with him, how the joy of having him with her had chased away her fears. No matter what anyone said, she had never seen him as a monster, only as the man she loved. 

I love you, Rhys. 

It was just a whisper, and one he likely wouldn’t remember, but it felt important that he knew. She’d tell him again when they were awake, when the time was right. 

She stepped from his mind as she felt him relax further into her arms, his breathing still deep and even with sleep, but the tension in his brow and shoulders gone as she held him close. Things were not okay now, but with their bodies embraced in this way, like a key fit in a lock, Feyre couldn’t convince herself that it wouldn’t be someday. 

It had to be. 

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

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

[blood-mocha-latte]

~ miscellaneous tag game ~

tagged by the lovely @mutantmanifesto and @dontirrigateme <3

Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?

rough draw but munich! 'twas gorgeous and also where I got engaged

Something you’re proud of yourself for?

dragging my ass through college in two years and double majoring. nearly killed me but by god it's done

Favorite books?

the awakening by kate chopin - the woman in white by wilkie collins - all quiet on the western front by erich maria remarque - a tree grows in brooklyn by betty smith - letters from the 442nd by min masuda

Something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?

mah wife (borat voice)

Favorite thing about your culture?

god what even is my culture. how unhinged would i sound if i said swamps and rigatoni

When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?

joined about three years ago but not on tumblr, but watched the pacific first

Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?

no because i. have a reading list and they aren't up in the queue lmao

Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?

leckie. he’s like. webster if webster was a wet cat what’s not to love. favorite moment is all moments ever EXCEPT for the sex scenes because what kind of hallucinogen did i take to have to watch that

Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?

i write fic and am. a little consumed by it at all times. i also make edits but am going through a bit of a rut with that so for now only writing thank you

Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?

eliza dushku for her wonderful performances in buffy the vampire slayer and angel (i'm gay. can you tell)

Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?

just this entire dick allen poem which is luztoye coded forever and ever

Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?

hm. idk. i once got bit by a raccoon in a bayou and had to get rabies shots for the next two weeks

If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?

i write everything by hand and then put in in the Computer which is like. a built in beta edit. and then mah wife (borat voice) betas for me because she's wonderful

Three things that make you smile?

mah wife (borat voice) (i'm predictable)

our air purifier (i’m old)

our vintage dog teapot

Any nicknames you like?

my name is three letters long like there's not a lot of leeway there. i went by adelasia for a while which is my middle name but like. that's it. does papera count

List some people you love to see around on tumblr!

@lamialamia is the pillar of my entire person at all times and genuinely one of the nicest people i’ve ever met. linh wrote this wonderful fic for the secret santa exchange, which i am currently reading and fawning over

@staud is easily one of the talented people in the entire hbo war fandom and has the fucking VISION for gifs and videos. most recent of which i’ve watched (and panicked about) being an incredible eugene sledge video. erin is also just fucking funny bro idk what to tell you

@mutantmanifesto is someone that is like. genuinely a celebrity to me. every time i see lenora’s drawings anywhere i have flashbacks like i’m in the louvre. also just a wonderful person with incredible taste

@ep6bastogne is on a tumblr hiatus right now but always deserves a shoutout. she did incredible edits of skinny sisk, eugene roe, ron speirs, and david webster for the secret santa exchange that changed my brain chemistry forever and is one of the warmest people i’ve ever talked to

@ewipandora is someone that i’m ALWAYS holding hands with <3. both a genuinely funny and wonderful person and has incredible taste in reblogs. ewi is currently doing a band of brothers ship series that i plan to Consume as soon as possible because i have no doubt that they’re incredible

@dcyllom is an incredibly underrated and kind part of my Dashboard Experience™ and is also just wonderful and one of my favorite Tumblr People :)

@educationalporpoises is a genius and an INCREDIBLE writer. zee was my secret santa gifter and this luztoye fic knocked it all the way out of the park and into the cemetery, which is how hard it slayed. also wins for best mutual handle

@almost-a-class-act is ridiculously supportive and kind, and a backbone of the hbo war fandom forever and always. sam’s also one of the best fucking writers to ever grace this earth, with the most recent thing i’ve read being this top notch luztoye fic <3

What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

die. girl i work in an er i'd be the first to go

Favorite movie?

ladri di biciclette for all time favorite movie ever. a perfect movie

Do you like horror movies?

it depends entirely on the level of homoerotism that can be found in those movies. and also if matthew lillard is in it

Tagging:

everyone mentioned above as well as anyone who wants to do it since i have no clue who’s been tagged :)

[breakawayshinies]

Jeremy Shada met: Indiana Comic Convention, Indianapolis, IN on: May 6, 2023 Jeremy Shada and his wife Carolynn are the two sweetest, most genuine, most ridiculously wonderful people in the entire universe. I’ve met a lot of celebrities over the years, and almost none of them have been so damn pure. I was running on no sleep, had left at 3am to catch a flight to this con solely to meet Jeremy. Carolynn took one look at me and asked if she could get me a water or a coffee or something. She chatted with me about JATP while the people in front of me met were getting their autographs. She loved that I had brought my own photos. (so did I, because the choices for JATP and VLD that Jeremy had were...not good, since mostly everyone there wanted Adventure Time autographs.) Jeremy himself was just an absolute delight. I had purchased multiple autographs, a selfie, and a video recording (if I’m going to a con for a single person, you better believe I’mma make it count), and he didn’t even blink, just chatted with me for a good long time, and when I asked if he would sing something from JATP for the video recording, he was thrilled, and sang some of Reggie’s Jam without hesitation. Almost immediately after meeting him, I developed what is likely the worst migraine I’ve ever had, which knocked me out for two solid days. And it was utterly, 100% worth it to have these memories. <3

[archerygun]

Wowee. This is a bit of an emotional one. Just warning you now.

I’ve been watching Ghosts pretty much since it came out. My dad surprised me with the first episode and refused to let me know what we were watching until I saw Ben Willbond’s face and was like “HOLD ON.”

(Nobody asked, but my favourite has always been the Captain because I’ve been obsessed with the Second World War since I was 7. My dad’s favourite is Robin, my mum’s is Kitty and my sister likes Pat).

It wasn’t niche then by any stretch of it. It’s always been popular, but it certainly wasn’t something your teachers plus the whole internet were cracking out the good wine for. (I proceeded to annoy everyone in my life by talking about it, little did they know that 3 years later they’d become equally obsessed by it).

And that doesn’t sound too special, but like. When Ghosts came out, I was in Primary School. Now I’m sitting my GCSEs. That’s fucking insane. Not even mentioning how it singlehandedly carried me through lockdown when I was dealing with a bigger workload than ever (online school just means strictish parents get to cross over into actually strict) and only had one friend to communicate with.

The first (and last) time I read proper fanfiction was when I was like 12 and looking through the Ghosts fandom because I was having a really, really bad time with paranoia and couldn’t sleep.

When we had our Year 10 mocks, my friend showed up half an hour late to our Chemistry exam after doing zero revision because she was bingewatching every episode of Ghosts to cope with exams. She gave me a rose for valentine’s this year with “I’m from Yorkshire mate, I’m practically made of tea.” on it. Her Yearbook quote is gonna be “I’m going to drown myself in the lake! I mean it!”

My Media Studies teacher found out I watched the show and started enthusiastically taking me through all of her theories about it before Season 4 came out. (She’s like sixty and her favourite show is Line of Duty by the way). Before Season 5 came out I asked her how she felt and she gave me a very excited “We’re getting out the good wine!!!”

So. My grandad died in 2022. Just before Christmas. They thought he’d make it to celebrate Christmas with us, but they’d overestimated. He had lung cancer, caused by working around asbestos as an industrial electrician. I genuinely cannot describe how much of a wonderful man he was. He was the best person I ever met, and more of a second dad than a grandad.

The last thing my grandad watched with us (we put a lot of importance on watching things as a family, at least in my family. Not sure if this is the same for everyone) was an episode of Ghosts. We thought it would be a laugh, because his end of the family are all from Sheffield and they’d introduced Maddocks. He was very out of it, and on an oxygen drip. He couldn’t really pay attention but he insisted on trying because he wanted to make us happy.

He died that week, on the day we had to leave. We were in the house when he started failing and all we could do was drive back down to London.

(Ghosts actually got a shoutout in the funeral. We’re a family with a sense of humour, and my grandad was the kind of man that results in a family debate about whether Ça Plane Pour Moi is an appropriate song for a funeral).

The Christmas episode that year broke me. In a good way. When they played Pat’s video tapes, I saw every photo of my dad’s family in the eighties in Yorkshire. It can’t be too hard to capture the energy, I’m sure, but I’ll tell you this. There wasn’t a dry bloody eye in the sitting room. My aunt even got their Christmas pictures out afterwards. My Sheffield family saw their childhoods on the screen and my London family saw my grandad.

It’s funny how things can end up being an accidental allegory or feel cosmically intentional.

I’m not saying this for pity, or to one-up anyone about my connection to the show. I just feel like if I don’t describe every detail, Ghosts’ impact on my life is going to be understated. And I’m more than happy that it will impact so many more people.

So, yeah. Thank you, Ghosts. I can’t think of a single piece of other media that’s been as impactful on my life. Thank you for being made with care and love and attention to detail and terminal levels of Britishness. Thank you for dealing with death and grief and healing in an entertaining way.

Thank you. For everything.

[lilliathshifts]

Oh my god guys, I forgot to give y’all a little life update 😔

I had an ultrasound done on my thyroid about a month ago and they found a lil nodule on my thyroid which isn’t a big deal at all and is completely normal but when one is found, it’s standard to do a biopsy on it to make sure it’s nothing and luckily 99%+ of the time it’s nothing which yippee.

Today I woke up a 4 am to get ready and head to the hospital for my biopsy and I was a little nervous on my way there I went on my local news stations Facebook and found out my moms cousin got 99+ years in prison without parole bc he’s a multi offender and was caught cooking coca cola so that was a fun thing to wake up to. Anyway get to the hospital and the news is going and they mentioned him. He’s a celebrity. Jk.

So I get admitted and I meet my nurse. He was a dope guy and I genuinely thought he was gay but guess he wasn’t. He started my iv and he said my blood flow was incredible 😮‍💨

But there was so much blood everywhere. I wasn’t expecting to see that when I turned my head. He laughed at me and said “sorry didn’t mean to make this look like a murder scene”. Afterwards he was like “you took this way better than a lot of people, for a second I thought you just weren’t feeling any pain but then I saw that you were gripping your feet and you’re face was wide eyed” 😔

ANYWAY he put saline in the iv to “make it pretty and clean it out” LOL but he said that some people can actually smell the saline as they put it in AND I DID IT WAS SO WEIRD. We talked for a bit about our COVID experiences and I talked about how I got it on my 14th birthday and haven’t had my smell since (yippee 😔) and he said he has never met a person who completely lost their smell and never got it back. He left for a bit and came back and said “girl your labs came back in they’re literally perfect, I’ve never seen anyone who had labs this good” so I’m special I guess.

He gave me this calming med (forgot the name) and it made me feel so dizzy and and the room was SPINNING it was weird then I went back into the operation room.

I want to give a trigger warning but I don’t know WHICH one so just be weary I guess

It was awful and I hope I never go through this again. So I got in the room and my nurse was just talking about me and how I had COVID on my birthday and never got my smell back anyway so the biopsy started and the numbing medicine hurt like hell. It felt like someone STABBING my throat over and over and over again then practically the whole time and the person stayed the biopsy and I didn’t feel that but I did feel her pressing on my throat which was weird but the numbing meds were the only thing I could think about. The pain was horrible and I cried the whole time. They were telling me to pace my breathing bc it was really rapid but I couldn’t because it felt like someone was slicing my throat open. Then it was over and I just stared at the ceiling and they thought I was just high but I was actually just traumatized 🫶

the moment I got back into my room I started bawling. I wasn’t in pain but I was a little sore. My mom got my a cookie and my nurse brought me a water. I stayed in the room for about 30-45 minutes just waiting for all the meds to wear off and I was wheeled out to my car. I got Dutch Bros caramelizar (OMG IT WAS SO GOOD) and my mom got my Whataburger and I got home and watched Supernatural with my mom before going to sleep bc I got 3 1/2 hours of sleep last night.

I just woke up from my name to Kallmekris and CelinaSpookyBoo playing and thought “you know, I should probably tell tumble about my day” and so I am. Also after all this today, they LITERALLY slapped a bandaid over my neck 😭

Anyway peace out dawgs

[dukeofdelirium]

Imagine working your whole life to be remembered as the greatest artist of all time and you’re forced to be remembered as the most infamous pedophile of all time. That’s a damn shame.

It’s fucked up what they did to Michael, but we can still advocate for his innocence even though he’s gone, now. Truth and Justice shouldn’t die when you die. That’s why it’s important that we still fight for him. If we don’t, no one will.

Michael dedicated his life to helping children and saved millions of lives through his humanitarian efforts. Over 500 million donated in his name, and that was just publicly. He did more anonymously. His nephew said he easily doubled that number. MJ didn’t draw attention to his charity work. He felt it was wrong to do so, and a lot of the stuff he did for others didn’t become known until he died.

He was an amazing artist, yes. The greatest to ever live. But under that, he was an amazing human being. He was a good man who truly cared for other people. He was not like other celebrities who just say they love their fans and shit to keep up an image. Michael truly did love his fans, genuinely.

He hung out with his fans. He kept in communication with his fans and knew many of them by name. His security guards even commented on how shocked they were when they’d be out somewhere and MJ would point at fans and tell them their names and when he’d met them, etc.

He would bring food and blankets and pillows to his fans that camped outside his hotels and shows. He even let fans come up to his hotel rooms and sleep in there. He also let fans come to his house and hang out at his house. He ran Neverland Ranch for a loss of over 3 million each year. There were regular, almost daily trips from make a wish or other programs that helped sick or dying children who wanted to spend the day with MJ or at his ranch as a last wish. He had bus loads of underprivileged kids brought to the ranch too so they could experience a zoo or amusement park because these children were too poor to do so otherwise.

He would walk around on the street and just give people hundreds of dollars in cash. He would also have his ppl drive him around and donate to the homeless very regularly. And he always made a point to especially help the homeless women.

Every city and country he visited, he would go to orphanages, hospitals, nursing homes etc. He would pay for everyone’s treatment and would continue to pay for their treatment for years afterward. He would also buy tons of presents for the kids at these orphanages and hospitals. All the money he made from tours, he also donated. While on tour, actually, he decided to build a burn ward for burn victims bc he himself was one.

For his last tour, what would’ve been This Is It, all he talked about was building a children’s hospital…. There are audio recordings of it that his murderer recorded very soon before he killed Michael. In these recordings, MJ is heavily drugged, but even while being drugged against his will, he was still talking about what he could do for others.

“When people leave this show, when people leave my show, I want them to say ‘I’ve never seen nothing like this in my life! Go! Go! I’ve never seen nothing like this. Go! He’s the greatest entertainer in the world!’ I’m taking that money, a million children… children’s hospital. The biggest in the world. Michael Jackson’s children’s hospital. Gonna have a movie theater, game room. Children are depressed. The- in those hospitals. No movie theater, no game room. They’re sick because they’re depressed. Their mind is depressing them. I want to give them that. I care about them, them angels. God wants me to do it. God wants me to do it.”

He continues with “That will be remembered more than my performances. My performances will be up there helping my children and always be my dream. I love them. I love them because I didn’t have a childhood. I had no childhood, I feel their pain.” And “I feel their hurt, I can deal with it. ‘Heal the World.’ ‘We Are the World.’ ‘Will You Be There.’ ‘The Lost Children.’ These are the songs I’ve written because I hurt, you know, I hurt.”

It breaks my heart what they did to this man. He was the closest thing we’ll ever get to an Angel. And they killed him.