#wood walking canes

[classywalkingcanes]

Evergreen Wooden Walking Canes

Are you looking for a walking cane that exudes a classy vibe and offers an evergreen appeal? Walking canes crafted out of wood is exactly what you need.  These not only come in the most premium quality but also serve the classiest look. Scroll through the vast range of wooden walking sticks featured at Classy Walking Canes which come in stylish contemporary designs and offer an appealing naturalistic vibe. Here are some of the trendiest options you can go for:

Derby Handle Wooden Canes

Derby Handle Wooden Canes are one of the most popular styles of canes amongst the masses. While the derby handle's outstanding ergonomics offer a smooth and comfortable grip, the high-quality hardwood construction ensures maximum durability.

Crook Handle Wooden Canes

If you are looking for walking canes with a conventional design and subtle appeal, the crook handle wooden canes are the perfect pick for you. Available in a variety of shapes and styles for both men and women, crook handle canes are tough in construction and offer maximum support while walking.

Fritz Handle Wooden Canes

Another widely opted style of canes is the Fritz Handle Wooden Canes. These are specially designed to provide the most stability and comfort when walking. Besides being a highly-functional cane, these canes also come with a stylish C-shaped contour handle that offers the perfect grip while walking. The walking canes are available in a broad range of varieties and are made using premium-quality woods like walnut, oak, hickory, and so on.

Palm Handle Wooden Canes

If you wish to have an ideal walking cane that fits in your hand perfectly and provides a comfortable grip, then the Palm Handle Wooden Canes is exactly what you need. Be it the anatomically shaped shaft or the high level of style quotient, the palm handle can will offer both. The wooden canes with palm handles are also available in a variety of hues, shapes, and styles. White marble handles, trendy wood handles, poly resin handles, golden collars, and other variants are the most popular ones.

Concluding Thoughts

Since wood had been one of the most durable and resilient materials for ages, walking canes that are crafted out of wood are sure to serve you for a long time. Shop at reliable websites like Classy Walking Canes and choose from wooden walking canes that come in distinctive styles and natural finish that looks quite classy.

[dreamlogic]

going through another round of "what if i got a cane would my life be easier with a cane should i get a cane" hmmmm

[ibreathebooks-42]

The problem with shopping for a new cane online is you have to go past all these awesome looking ones and keep telling yourself that no, it would look really cool to wander around with an octopus cane, but it wouldn't be really functional, think of how your hand would be feeling after just a couple hours. Or- yes that one has a cool handle that is even the right shape...but look at that neck, you know at that price the first time you need to actually catch your balance with it the handle would snap right off.

Sigh

[themanedwolf]

More things I have crafted:

Kinda blurry pics because it is hard to photograph something 5ft long with quality details. Plus I had to crop out my basement lol. These walking sticks were given to my parents for their 60th birthdays.

[tcypionate]

went to my first pride event / drag show and it was nice. but not a single person except me wore a mask and like 4 separate people kept being like "oh its ok, you dont have to wear a mask here. i havent seen anyone thats sick" -_-

[briarpatch-kids]

Let's talk mobility aids!

Canes

Canes are for when you need to take a little bit of weight off of one side of your body, need a little help with balance, or need a little extra stability when you walk. It's an easy mobility aid to find and get, and it's pretty easy to figure out how to use. Have the cane sized so the handle sits at wrist level, then hold it on the opposite side to the one that hurts. Match your cane strikes to the steps on the hurt side. It will hurt your arm, elbow, and shoulder sometimes, but having a properly sized cane will help.

Rollators

Rollators are kind of the "next step up" in support. They come with more restrictions, you get limited to ramps and stuff, but they're also the least restrictive wheeled mobility aid because they're light and easy to pick up and toss around. They also have a seat a lot of times and a basket so you don't need to carry stuff. They're for when you need a place to rest, something to lean on when you walk, better balance assistance than a cane, and less weight bearing than a cane. I also found that it helped me with fatigue quite a bit. There's two main kinds, euro style like the first, and regular like the second. There are other fancier ones but I'm covering the basics here.

Rollators are my favorite mobility aid and I've used everything from canes to a fancy high grade power chair. They're just the perfect balance of help and freedom. They provide so much support for how far they go.

Crutches

Arm crutches are pretty neat! They're a lot more ergonomic than a cane. In fact, some people use a single arm crutch as a cane. They distribute the weight a little better, so it's not all on your wrists, and they support you better than a rollator can. The major cons I found are that they take two hands to use so you can't carry much and I had a really hard time trying to learn to walk with them. A lot of people who use forearm crutches have other mobility aids and use the forearm crutches when they want to or need to walk.

Manual Wheelchairs

These are for when walking becomes more difficult than pushing a wheelchair. There's no weight being put on your legs and feet and depending on your needs, you can get really specific with your adaptations if you have a custom wheelchair verses a standard wheelchair. My first custom chair looked like a monster truck because i took in the woods and gravel, my second custom chair after I got sicker has a head rest, a backrest that holds me up, and a little electric box that I can attach that helps me push. The difference between getting a standard and custom wheelchair is dependent on how much money the user has, what kind of needs they have, and what kind of medical access they have. (One is not more "real" than the other.) I highly recommend getting a cushion for under your butt if you have a standard chair without a cushion, I used a standard full time for 6 months and a cushion made a huge difference.

Mobility scooters

Mobility scooters are for people who can't walk long distances, but can still walk with the help of a cane or unassisted. If you can walk around your house, but not really much else, a mobility scooter might be the aid for you! There's a lot of different styles and battery life lengths and handling abilities so try a few different scooters out if you can.

Powerchairs

Powerchairs come in a couple different types or "groups" depending on your needs. Group 1 is the kind of chair you're probably most familiar with. It's basically for someone who needs a powerchair to get around their house, the doctors, office, and grocery store. You can't do any custom seat cushions or anything, but it's for people who don't need it. Think of like... someone who can walk pretty okay still, it just hurts to walk or they're off balance or a little weak feeling. A lot of times more elderly people will use these, if you're more active look into group 2

Group two chairs are little more durable, a little more stable, sometimes you can switch the captains seats out for custom seating... They're what a full time powerchair user would use if they don't need specialty functions like tilt or recline. They also often have 6 wheels rather than 4 like the group 1 chairs have.

Group 3 powerchairs are reserved for specific diagnoses like muscular dystrophy, ALS, and other severe neurological and neuromuscular illnesses. These are also called "rehab" chairs because they're for making sure severely disabled people have quality of life. The tilt function is for pressure relief, though you can also get things like elevation so you can raise and lower your chair, and some of them can recline flat. There are other avenues of moving grade 3 power chairs beyond the joystick as well in case someone can't use their hands or doesn't have them. (Head controls, torso controls, and straw controls called sip and puff are alternatives.) They can go on a little worse terrain than group 1 and two chairs and go a little farther, but if they get stuck they weigh 350 lbs and it's awful.

There's a few other types of mobility aid that I don't know enough about, like ankle foot orthotics and gait trainers, but these are the basic "mobility aid" most people will come across.

If you use another type of mobility aid and want to educate people, add it on!!

[mooshywrites]

Mage Hand

Fem!Reader x Gale

Masterlist

Art commissions

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A/N - This one is a lil more adventurous than my last. I’m getting more confident with my writing, so… expect degeneracy.

Word count - 3.2K

Warnings - NSFW, MDNI, established relationship (Gale proposal route), Vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, exhibition, spell sex??, creampie, biting, Unprotected sex, dirty talk, hidden sex, public-ish sex, typical Gale corniness

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“You might want to dampen those pretty little moans unless you want someone else to hear.”

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“How is this next bookshop going to be anything different than the last ten we’ve been to?” You whined, trudging after the brown haired wizard.

Gale had dragged you across the entire town, popping shop to shop to find more spell books. You tried your best not to be annoyed, but this was supposed to be your week.

”Last one, sweetest, promise!” He called back, not even turning to face you as he continued down the street.

”You owe me.” You grumbled. This is the last time you let Gale plan a date. Who would think that leaving just one day of your honeymoon to him would end with the two of you searching every street for anyone who had even so much as a picture book on spells.

Thankfully, this next shop had to be the last book store in the town. Hopefully, at least.

Gale walked through the doors of the building, a rather rundown sort of place. Vines ran their way in and out of the cracked wood siding, ending in blooms of tiny purple flowers. You might have even found the place adorable if it didn’t smell like mildew and unaccomplished sorcerers.

“Welcome to Lichen, Lizards, and Library!” A voice yelled out further in the room. You had to squint to see them, the “library” being much darker inside than the bright and bustling street beyond.

The voice belonged to a tiny dragonborn woman, much of her height hunched over a gnarled cane. You suddenly felt bad about your previous opinions of the place. By the way the elderly she-dragon hobbled towards you, you doubted the woman could stack more than a couple of books, much less manage the upkeep of the shop.

“Good day to you, m’lady.” Gale replied warmly, taking a step further into the ill-lit interior. “You wouldn’t happen to have any spell books for sale, would you, madam?”

“Spell books!” The she-dragon chucked, nodding her head. “We’ve got all the beginner books you could manage between the two of you! Last shelf on the right, dearie.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the woman. Customers probably came back to this shop time and time again just to see this grandmotherly Dragonborn.

”Well, you see…” Gale sighed, gesturing towards himself. ”I’m not exactly a beginner. Do you happen to have anything with a greater difficulty?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

The dragonborn narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the man.

”Wizard?” She prodded.

”Y-yes, in fact, I am.”

”How good are you?”

Gale scoffed, clearly taken aback by this line of interrogation, “Good enough to defeat an Elder Brain!”

The elderly woman narrowed her eyes even further. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had demanded the wizard cast ’wish’ just to prove it to her.

She finally nodded, her decision apparently made. “Follow me, then.”

You gave Gale a confused look, the man only answering with a shrug as he followed the she-dragon.

”I don’t usually show customers our more unusual books, but it seems like you’re up for the challenge.” The shopkeeper called over her shoulder.

The both of you followed as she hobbled her way to a door at the end of the room. You passed by shelves filled with all sorts of oddities, stacked with books, various skulls and jars. It was almost eerie, this little woman’s collection.

She opened the door, holding her hand out in invitation, “If you need anything, I’ll be in front. Yell loud, the old ears aren’t what they used to be.”

“Thank you.” You smiled politely, stepping into the smaller room with Gale, the door swinging shut softly.

This room was much more well-kept than the shop outside of it. The shelves were free of dust, books organized neatly by letter. You couldn’t help but marvel as your hand trailed over the spine of a crimson red book. It had to be expensive, the lettering of the title glinting a beautiful gold.

“This place is incredible.” Gale murmured, his eyes trailing over the shelves before throwing a smile your way. “Told you the last one would be the one.”

You rolled your eyes, pressing your lips into a tight line.

“Oh, not the silent treatment, darling.” He chided, pulling you closer to him. “What could I have done to deserve the lonely absence of your voice?”

“Maybe dragging me through town looking at shops during our honeymoon?” You scoffed. “Looking for spell books of all things! What else could you possibly learn?”

You bit back your tone, seeing how his expression immediately faltered.

“You’re right, in truth, I didn’t really think it would take all day to find a shop with books that had more in them than… well… firebolt.” He smiled.

You couldn’t help but relax your glare, knowing he didn’t truly waste the day on purpose.

“Fine. Then I suppose you’ll have to make it up to me.” You grinned.

”You must be careful with such threats, darling. It is our honeymoon after all. Wouldn’t want to get a man’s hopes soaring.” He teased, kissing your nose. “But yes, I will make it up to you at my earliest convenience”

You sighed with a nod, stepping back out of his arms. “Go ahead then.” You gave in, shooing him towards the bookshelves.

You turned your attention back to the red book, pulling out to leaf through idly. “What do you even think you’ll find in these?”

“Who knows.” He responded. “There’s not many spells I don’t have at least an idea of. But these books may have new ones. Or even advanced versions of spells I already can do.”

“Like what?” You questioned, reading further into the book. Apparently, this one was about a more practical way to summon a mephit.

“Like here,” He said, pointing to his own book. “Advanced Mage Hand. Instead of only lasting for a minute, this one lasts for ten.”

You were barely registering the words, engrossed in the science behind the summoning magic written in the pages before you. “Why would you need Mage Hand for ten minutes?” You asked, distractedly.

“Guess you would have to use your imagination. Endless possibilities.” Gale replied.

“Uh-huh.” You murmured, not really listening to your wizard. This book was just too fascinating. Who knew there was so much more knowledge out there about the construction and anatomy of a mephit?

It took Gale murmuring under his breath in a strange language to grab your attention.

“What was that?” You asked, your gaze flitting up to him.

He looked back at you, eyebrows furrowed. “What was ‘what’?”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” You shrugged, turning your eyes back to your book.

You were a couple more sentences in, comfortable silence falling over the room when you felt something on your ankle.

You couldn’t even begin to guess whatever it was that had touched you. It was feather light and cool, barely whispering over your skin. There one moment and gone within the split of another.

You looked down, trying to see what had brushed over you, only to see absolutely nothing.

Strange, must have been a breeze. There were many cracks in the walls I saw on the outside, you thought to yourself.

That is, until the cool touch grazed against your knee.

You froze, your skin erupting in goosebumps. You looked back towards Gale, questioningly, only to see him seemingly engrossed in the book he was reading. Your eyebrows furrowed, looking back to your legs.

No, still nothing there. Am I crazy? Have I been cursed?

The touch rose further, icy invisible fingertips racing along your thigh. Your breath caught in your throat, a slight sense of panic rising in your chest.

Gale cleared his throat casually beside you, your attention shooting up to him again. At first glance, he was being completely normal, but at closer inspection, you saw the way his ears flushed a barely perceptible pink.

Aha!

“It’s you!” You whisper shouted, pointing at him accusingly.

He faced you, eyebrows raised. “What are you talking about?”

As he spoke, the ghostly touch rose higher, much too close to your center than you cared to focus on.

”Play as innocent as you want.” You seethed, your cheeks beginning to heat. “Something is touching me, and it better be you.”

Gale couldn’t keep up the act, finally giving you a sly smile. “I wanted to see how useful this advanced Mage Hand really is.”

You gasped softly as the touch became firmer, pressing a single spectral finger against your clothed cunt.

“I couldn’t see it.” You managed to say, trying to hold on to at least a bit of dignity. In truth, you couldn’t deny that the feeling was… interesting.

”Another feature of its advancement.” Gale smiled, keeping his eyes trained on yours.

Another finger pressed against you, adding a delicious sense of pressure to your heat. You should’ve been embarrassed of how much you enjoyed this touch, how it made your mind cloud with lust. The fingers shifted slightly, barely brushing against your clit.

You covered your mouth quickly to suppress a whine, trying your best to give Gale a half-hearted glare. “Stop that. Someone will hear.”

Gale took a step closer, tilting your chin up with his hand. “Who? The she-dragon? As long as you aren’t too loud, the old bat won’t hear a thing.” He murmured, his gaze trailing down to your lips.

You couldn’t even give him a response, the mage hand shifting to part your panties to the side.

God’s above.

The touch was even more incredible now that there wasn’t fabric between you. A finger ran feather-light over your folds, spreading your wetness almost painfully slow. You let out a strained whimper, craving more friction than it gave you.

Gale closed the distance between you, pulling you flush against his chest. His hand pulled your chin up to him, swallowing your moan with his lips. You melted against his touch, rocking your hips slightly against the Mage Hand.

Gale chucked slightly, his other hand resting on the curve of your back. “So eager.” He whispered, parting from your kiss only just.

The fingers spread apart the petals of your flower, rubbing wide circles around your entrance, tracing figure eights everywhere but where you needed it.

“Please, Gale.” You choked out, eyes scrunching shut in desperation.

“Please what, dearest?” He responded, his voice low and teasing.

“Please, just touch me!” You said louder, pressing your hips against him, opening your eyes to beg with even your gaze.

He pressed a finger over your lips, warning you to control your volume. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown out with need. His lips were ever so slightly puffy, swollen with the heat of your earlier kiss.

She-dragon be damned, all you wanted was to hear a moan fall from those plump lips.

The spectral hand finally gave you what you wanted, dipping into your cunt slowly. You sighed in relief, letting your forehead fall to rest on Gale’s chest. What you imagined was the ghostly hand’s thumb traced small circles around your clit, a single finger pushing in and out of your sex.

You couldn’t help letting out another soft moan as another finger joined the first, thankfully the sound being muffled by Gale’s hand.

“Shhht.” Gale tutted quietly, his voice raspy in your ear. His hand moved from the small of your back, coming up to cup your breast. “You might want to dampen those pretty little moans unless you want someone to hear.”

You bit your lip, putting all of your focus into being quiet. What a losing battle you were fighting, however, Gale’s hand beginning to knead the soft flesh under it. Your nipple hardened under his touch, pushing through the fabric of your shirt. Gale smiled devilishly, fingertips grazing over the nub.

“If I had only known such magic existed before our honeymoon started.” He murmured. “We never would have left the inn.”

You bit back a moan as the fingers started pumping faster, arousal coiling tighter in your lower belly. Your legs began to feel heavy, your arms clutching at Gale for balance. The molten fire in your veins grew hotter and hotter, your muffled moans whispering out closer together. You were right on the edge, you knew your orgasm was close.

Suddenly, the touch disappeared.

You whined angrily, your eyes coming up to glare at Gale. He wasn’t usually one for orgasm denial.

Gale only chuckled, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “Apparently, ten minutes seemed to have been a bit of a stretch.”

You looked away, pouting. “Or maybe you lost concentration.”

Gale leaned in, kissing the shell of your ear before his teeth grazed against the skin gently. “Shall I replace the absence?” He nipped.

You nodded, not trusting your traitor mouth to answer with anything other than a shameful moan and string of begging words.

With a slight rustling of your heavy skirt, Gale cupped his hand against your sex. You whimpered a breathless moan, His middle finger delving between your folds.

He groaned in your ear, raising goosebumps along your arms. “So wet for me already, my love.”

You couldn’t respond, your hips having a mind of their own as they pressed further against his touch. You needed more. More pressure, more friction, more him.

“I can’t.” You whimpered, your legs felt as if they may give out at any moment.

Gale seemed to know exactly what you needed, hands hooking below your ass to pick you up. You couldn’t help but notice the hard length that pressed against your stomach as he carried you to the table in the corner. You ground against his cock helplessly, much too… well… much separating the two of you for your liking.

Gale let out a strained moan at your movements, setting you on the rough wood as softly as possible. It took mere moments for the two of you to remove those pesky barriers, Gale unlacing his trousers and you hiking up your dress. Your underwear were all but ruined, your cunt practically dripping with arousal.

Gale pulled you into a kiss, his member finally free against your soaked core. Moans mingled between both of your lips, Gale grinding against you in slow controlled thrusts.

You pulled away slightly, looking into his eyes. His tousled hair and lust crazed gaze almost had you coming on the spot.

“Gale” You whispered softly, pushing your fingertips through his soft brown locks. “I need you.”

”Your wish is my command.” He chuckled darkly, pushing his length inside you.

His hand shot over your mouth, anticipating the moan that ripped from your throat. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

“By Mystra’s Light.” He strained out, grinding deeper against you. “You’re so tight around me.”

You cunt clenched at his words, earning another groan from his parted lips. You knew you wouldn't last long. Especially not after being deprived of your orgasm earlier. Even now, you felt the desire burning red hot in your lower stomach, the tightness in your muscles.

“Gale I-“ You whispered, voice desperate.

“Shht, dearest, I know.” He assured, beginning to push short, shallow thrusts within you.

“More!” You whined into his hand, nails digging softly into the man’s scalp. “Gods above, just fuck me!”

That’s all it took to snap the cord in Gale.

He thrusted into you savagely, heavy breaths panting in your ear. His spare hand held your hips close, his eyes meeting yours. His gaze was passionate, communicating all the words you weren’t able to say through his palm. You might’ve been worried about the shopkeeper hearing the raw wet sounds of Gale thrusting to the hilt, but the delicious stretch of his cock inside of you had you distracted from such trivial things.

It didn’t take but moments for the spring to pull tight in your mind, pleasure pulling you to the brink of snapping. Gale seemed to be close to the same, his brows furrowing and his grasp on your hips becoming tighter.

“Darling, ‘M close.” He warned, his voice worn and teeth gritted tight.

All you could do was moan into his touch, your heat clenching helplessly around him. His thrusts lost their rhythm, becoming deeper and desperate.

You felt a shiver before the world went white, every muscle in your body tightening as your orgasm hit you. Every nerve felt as if it were kissed by fire, all sound drowning out to the background. Your pleasure only intensified as you felt Gale’s warmth flood into you. He clutched you close as you both worked your way through your highs, Gale’s hips grinding raggedly.

When both of you had returned to the world of the living, Gale let out a chuckle. “Say what you will, but I’m glad I dragged you through every bookstore in this town. It ended quite well for me.”

You scoffed, feigning annoyance as you hit his chest softly. “You just wanted to bed me in a bookstore. Admit it.”

He held his hands up, pulling away from you with a groan, “You’re right. Guilty as charged.” He teased. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, ever so gently cleaning the two of you off.

“Well, I suppose we should find our way back to the Inn. Few more spells in here I have theories for.” He smiled, helping you off the table.

You blushed, smoothing out your dress, hoping no one would correctly assume why it had been wrinkled. “We better go pay for it then.” You quipped.

The two of you walked out hand in hand, Gale carrying your new find. Thankfully, the elderly dragonborn didn’t seem as if she knew what had happened in the back room of her own shop. She was perched upon a stool behind a desk, snoring loudly. It gave you some comfort. If you couldn’t hear the snoring from the other room… then hopefully…

“Ahem.” Gale cleared his throat as you approached the desk. “We’d like to purchase this one.

The Dragonborn awoke with a snort, smacking her lips together after a yawn. “Well let me see here.” She replied, taking the book.

She raised her eyebrows, nodding approvingly as she read the title. “A good find.”

Gale brought out his coin purse, paying for the book as the she-dragon and wizard made idle conversation. Your mind wandered to whatever other spells could be in the book. If one single entry could end this well…

The she-dragon took the coin happily, giving the book to Gale with a wave. You smiled at the woman, saying a soft goodbye as you began to exit the shop with your wizard love.

”Akra!” The woman croaked out, just as you had just almost passed through the doorway. Gale looked questioningly back at the woman.

“Uh, I’m sorry, madam. What was that?” He called out.

“It’s my name.” The elderly she-dragon yelled back, grinning from ear to ear. “The name you can call your little one in nine months!”

Your cheeks went beet red as Gale laughed out an awkward goodbye.

“Be sure to visit Lichen, Lizard, and Library again!”

You swatted at Gale’s arm, the man practically snorting back laughter as you made your way further into the streets. Not even the fires of Avernus could burn brighter than your flushed cheeks in this moment.

“Tomorrow, you’re staying in the Inn while I go to town.” You seethed, not even able to look at the wizard.

All gale did was chuckle back in response, taking your hand in his.

“I question the wisdom of that decision.”

[headspace-hotel]

The most "???????" thing I found in r/collapse though was a thread talking about the "extinction" of the American Chestnut tree...the whole thing, but in particular this fucking comment

the implication that right after the blight started, "settlers" suddenly got the idea of cutting down all the trees. Does this person think a tree has to be already dead to be cut down for wood?

"there was no breeding project or attempt at all at saving them" shut up. just shut up. i beg

"University extensions are encouraging people to cut down healthy ash trees so they can sell the timber" ..."they?" The university extensions?

So for context, the American chestnut is NOT extinct, it has been the subject of intensive breeding programs with a broad and robust genetic base for decades, genetic engineering has been used to create trees with blight resistance that are now being planted and the work is continuing, I have had the privilege of speaking with some of the people that have devoted their entire lives to saving this tree, and let me FUCKING tell you, the eighty-year-old gentleman walking with a cane did not hobble painstakingly up a mountain to the chestnut grove for some dumbass to say "boohoo so sad that there were no breeding programs for american chestnut tree"

I cannot even describe how humbling it was to hear the old folks speak about the decades they worked to save the American Chestnut tree, long before the technology now being used to create blight resistant trees even EXISTED. It is a quest that will take multiple human lifetimes to complete, the people that began it will never see the trees grow old, but they made it their life's mission anyway.

I'm just...unable to understand why someone would say something like that. How could someone be so attached to their sad, dismal fantasy of apocalypse that they either fail to learn about, or outright lie about, a much more beautiful truth????

LOOK AT HER, YOU BITCH.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Five

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Physical injury (i.e., Rhys and Cassian recovering post-Koschei), fluff, mating ceremonyyyyyyyyy (y'all I'm so excited I got so emotional writing this one)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was strange how the absence of things could be so obvious. How silence could be more obnoxious than a crowded room. 

Three weeks had passed since Koschei’s death, and everyone was afraid to bring attention to the glaring absence of Cassian’s arm and Rhysand’s wings. 

At every meal, Nesta carefully cut up the Lord of Bloodshed’s food, and every night, Rhysand winnowed up to his bedroom. He no longer needed a wheelchair to move around, but walking up the stairs was a battle he won only half the time.

Azriel’s shadows were still missing. Gone to the wind. But their whispers grew in strength each day and Azriel would strain his ear to hear them. It gave you both hope that they’d return in time. 

“Daddy.” 

Rhysand froze halfway up the stairs, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles. He subtly hid his hand behind his back, concealing the cane he relied on to walk around his own home. 

“Yes, Nyx.” 

The boy stood with his mother, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. Her wings were on full display, as were Nyx’s, in preparation for their daily flying lessons. For the first time, Rhysand would be unable to join them.

“We’re going flying. Do you… do you want to watch?” Nyx smiled shyly, one arm wrapped around his mother’s leg as he stared at the ground. “I can finally summon my wings during free fall. Just like we practiced.”

Rhysand strained to smile. “Go ahead with your mother. I’ll join you on the balcony soon.” 

“Ok,” the boy murmured and walked down the hall towards his parents’ bedroom. 

Feyre moved to be with her husband, her wings disappearing in a melting of light. She gently cupped his face in her hands. 

“It’s ok, my love,” Rhysand whispered, kissing her palms. Feyre smoothed back the swoop of hair that fell over his forehead. The strands were damp with sweat. “I don’t want you to keep Nyx waiting.” 

“Nyx is a patient boy. More patient than his father.” 

Rhys chuckled, blinking away tears. It was silly to hide these emotions from Feyre — she felt everything he did — but he wanted to at least try to be strong. To be her equal. Her High Lord. 

“Take your time, Rhys.” Her lips brushed against his and a piece of that ache in his chest fizzled out. It was incredible how his mate and wife could ease his burden with such a small touch. “I’ll be waiting with our son.” 

The moment Feyre disappeared into their bedroom and shut the door, Rhysand snapped his cane in half. Wood splinters flew out, embedding themselves in the wall and in the staircase, and he threw what remained down the stairs. 

Feyre, with all her love and patience, gave him the space to be angry. To grieve. But it helped her to know that Cassian, Azriel, and Emerie were already on their way. 

Rhysand made it to the third floor landing without his cane before the pain in his back became impossible to ignore. He sank to the floor. 

“Rhys—” The trio crowded around him. 

“Don’t say a fucking word, Cass.” They froze beside him, tucking their wings in tight. “I used to think the steps to the House of Wind were hard. Now I can’t even climb the stairs in my own fucking house.”

He hated this. He hated this with a burning passion. He was meant to be High Lord. He should have been at Feyre’s side, shaking out his wings and getting ready to taste the wind with his son. Instead here he was, sweat-soaked and shaking in front of his brothers and Emerie. 

After his mother and Selene’s death, he’d promised himself he would never lose his wings. They were a physical reminder of his Illyrian heritage. A heritage which so often went unseen beneath the veneer of a High Lord. Decades spent Under the Mountain had only cemented that promise in blood and salt. 

Amarantha may have stolen many things from him, but she’d never taken his wings. She’d never touched them. She’d never even seen them. 

Poison-laced calls of Amarantha’s whore and half-breed had always paled in comparison to the freedom of flying. A freedom he no longer had. 

“I’m not an Illyrian anymore,” Rhysand whispered grimly. The muscles in his back rolled, and even that small movement sent a thread of pain down his spine.  

Cassian and Azriel were stunned into silence. But not Emerie. Her gaze was too piercing, her tone too frank and unrelenting as she said, “My mother died without her wings.” 

Rhysand looked up at the female, slender and sharp as a blade. 

“At thirty-seven years old her father took a butcher’s knife and hacked them off before burying them in the snow just outside Windhaven.” She cocked her head to the side. “Tell me, was she not an Illyrian then?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Rhysand said pathetically. 

“It’s exactly what you meant. But you’re wrong. Your wings don’t make you an Illyrian, Rhys. If they did, myself and over half the females in those camps would have been banished from Illyria a long time ago.” 

There was a silence that followed, tense and filled with guilt until Emerie spoke again. 

“Do you know what they say about you in the camps? And I’m not talking about the males who whisper half-breed behind your back.” 

Rhysand took his head. 

“The young females whisper about the day you’ll find them worthy enough to steal away to Velaris — to your precious city you’d never let come to harm. They talk about the shops they’d get to see with the frosted cakes in the windows and the enchanted houses where they wouldn’t have to slave away over a stove or wring towels until their hands bled. That one day, you’ll recognize that they’re dreamers too who’ve only had their worst nightmares come true. The older ones are wiser than that. They don’t talk about escaping to a city they don’t know and don’t love, surrounded by strangers who might call them lesser-fae. They build their lives in the cold, and when the males come to burn it down, they either endure and build it up again, or they fight back however they can.” 

Emerie regarded him carefully, eyes halting on his violet eyes and the sharpness of his ears. 

“Wings don’t make you an Illyrian,” she repeated, “It’s in your blood. It’s what you're born into and the hands that raise you. Never say “I’m not an Illyrian” again, do you understand me?”

Rhysand swallowed the burning lump in his throat. Touched the short tips of his ears and wiped the tears gathering in his violet eyes. 

“Azriel, could you—could you bring me my cane? Please?” 

His brother walked down the steps without hesitation and retrieved the broken halves. 

It was a thing of beauty and strength, carved from ironwood and stained so dark it may as well have been sliced from a night sky. Rhysand put the two pieces together and closed his eyes. 

It was easy, miniscule magic to put the cane back together and far more difficult a feat to stand upright once again. He might have toppled backwards if not for Emerie. She gave him her shoulder to lean against.

“Still an Illyrian,” he murmured. 

It was a promise to himself and to his family. To the three Illyrian warriors who had found him. 

“Still an Illyrian.” Emerie patted his arm. “I understand you’ll still feel some self-pity for a while. It’s natural, but… try not to do it in a room I’m in.” 

“I can do that.” Rhysand leaned against his cane, limping towards his bedroom where his mate and son were waiting. “Oh and Emerie.” She turned her head towards him. “Thank you.” 

“Do you want me to just cut it for you?” 

“No, I like the way Nesta does it.” 

“Since when did you get so picky?” 

“Since I lost my fucking arm, Mor.” 

You snorted into your glass of wine and Azriel smiled as the pair continued bickering. He kept one hand under the table, rubbing small circles into your thigh. It wasn’t until Nesta decided to grace the early morning with her presence that Cassian turned his attention away from Mor, drawing Nesta down for a kiss. 

A fresh bruise painted his cheekbone purple, pink, and blue. 

Nesta gripped Cassian’s chin, turning his face to the side for a better look. “Who did this?”

“Emerie,” he said cheerfully. His grin was brighter than the sun. 

Today was the first time he’d sparred with anyone since he lost his arm and Emerie hadn’t gone easy on him. On the contrary, she’d taken every advantage her two arms afforded her until Cassian felt more tender than a steak on a butcher’s board. He hadn’t been thrown on his back so many times since the mating frenzy. 

It was a dirty, cunning way of fighting and he’d never appreciated the Illyrian female more. 

Nesta smirked at her friend with a glint in her eye that looked suspiciously like gratitude. 

Emerie only shrugged. She hadn’t experienced the same kind of loss that Cassian and Rhysand had, but she’d learned a great deal after her wing clipping. Carrying limbs that no longer worked was not so different from losing them entirely. It was all about a shifting of control and weight — about finding a new center of gravity and using weakness to your advantage. 

“Did you go easy on him?” Nesta asked. 

Emerie snorted. “Obviously not.”

“She fractured three ribs, but they’re healed now.” 

“Very nice.” 

Nesta settled down at her rightful seat beside Cassian and wordlessly cut up his breakfast. 

“Thanks, Nes.” 

“It’s the least I could do.” 

Cassian chuckled and pulled her close until she was nearly in his lap. “Don’t give me so much power, darling.” 

She huffed. “What power?”

“The power to win any argument in the future.” He stuck what remained of his right arm into the air and gave it a shake. It was a gentle, teasing reminder of who had cut it off in the first place. 

Nesta narrowed her eyes until they were two clips of ice. “Don’t make me regret letting you live.” 

“That’s much better.” 

Some people needed a gentle touch after horrible events, but there was nothing gentle about Cassian. He’d been born with the wild in his blood. He knew how to adapt and survive, and if surviving meant he would lose his arm and get more time with his mate, it was a trade he was more than happy to make.

Azriel seemed to be in agreement. He never took his eyes off you. More interested in seeing your reaction than hearing which comment had brought it to life.

Feyre nudged Rhys, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as she looked back and forth from her mate to you and Azriel. 

Now? Rhys asked. 

Yes, now! They’ve been staring at each other for the last thirty minutes. It’s honestly unnerving... Do you think they’ve already accepted the bond?

There’s no way in hell. We would have known. 

Azriel’s terribly good at keeping secrets. 

The fact that they haven’t been missing the last few months is proof enough. 

All the more reason to bring this up now so we can finally put them out of their misery. 

Feyre shot to her feet at the head of the table and Rhysand scrambled to attention after  her. 

“It has come to our attention that we never did say congratulations to a special couple in this room.”

“Oh gods,” Azriel muttered. 

Your face turned warm as everyone’s eyes and grins fell upon you and your mate.

“You didn’t think we forgot about your mating bond, did you?” Gwyn teased. 

“We were kind of hoping you had,” you said. “Not that we aren’t happy or—” You glanced over at Azriel. 

The first night you’d woken up in the Dawn Court you’d tried to crawl into his bones — an odd mixture of desperation and longing urging you to have your way with one other. Now, you were embarrassed to think that the first thing you’d tried to do after nearly dying, was sleep with your mate. 

Azriel smiled, bending towards you like a flower seeking sunlight in silent encouragement. It was such a small, natural gesture, and one that everyone noticed. Which also meant they clocked the blush on your cheeks as you gripped Azriel’s hand under the table. 

You cleared your throat. “We weren’t sure it was a good time with everything going on. We thought it might be wise to wait before—” 

“No more waiting!” Cassian declared, slamming his fist against the table so hard the silverware bounced. “I swear to the fucking gods, if you’re not in the frenzy by the end of the week, Y/n, I’ll have you force feed Azriel myself.” 

“We agreed we’d be gentle in our approach,” Elain reminded him. 

“There was a plan in place for this?” Lucien sputtered. “And you were a part of it?” 

She scoffed and lightly slapped his arm. Elain was a gentle, lovely creature when she wanted to be, and nothing melted her heart more than a good love story. 

“I think we are in need of a celebration,” Vassa whispered. It was the first collection of words the firebird had spoken in months. 

She’d sat for every meal at Lucien’s side completely silent. But this time, she reached a hand across the table and slid it into yours, squeezing tightly. Flashes of memory passed behind her eyes — memories of Jurian.

They weren’t fae. A mating bond was never in the cards for them. Which was why she felt strongly that you should be greedy with the time you had together. For there was no telling when it would end.

You sucked in a breath. You’d spoken at length about this with Azriel, tossing ideas back and forth during the night when the bond made your blood sing for more contact with the Shadowsinger. More touches.  

But you’d agreed that it was inappropriate to have even a private mating ceremony when everyone was hurting. To abandon them and disappear into the frenzy. 

Perhaps you’d both been wrong. 

Given how quick everyone was to swarm you and Azriel, you were definitely wrong. 

Rhysand hobbled over with his cane, kissing your cheek with a loud, obnoxious smack before aggressively disheveling Azriel’s hair. 

“The cottage—” Azriel began.

“I’ll have it finished by tonight.” Rhysand promised. 

Cassian threw his one good arm around Azriel’s shoulder, tugging him out of his chair and towards the door on a mission. Poor Lucien was also coerced into joining whatever debauchery Cassian had planned for their afternoon. He sulked after the pair with Rhysand. 

Nesta, Feyre, and Mor crowded around you, already deliberating which of the many-frequented boutiques in Velaris they would need to visit for your mating ceremony attire. 

You were positively overwhelmed by the attention and the realization that this was all happening. 

By midnight, you would be mated to the love of your life. 

Azriel slipped out from under Cassian’s arm, racing back across the room and falling to his knees. “I need a moment with you.” He breathed, thinly-veiled hunger in his eyes. 

One nod was all it took before he was guiding you to the kitchen and slamming the door on everyone’s whistling. 

Azriel pressed you against the kitchen door, chest heaving so hard you could feel every beat of his heart against your chest. 

You’d both been holding back with each other ever since returning to the Night Court. Propriety and respect for his brothers had demanded you wait to express your love and wanting. You didn’t want to slap them in the face with joy. 

But now that you had everyone’s overwhelming approval, well… Azriel was finding it nearly impossible to wait even a moment longer. 

He pressed his lips to yours and didn’t let go of his soft grip on your waist until you were both gasping for breath. But then you kissed him back, swallowing his sighs and gentle groans like there was honey on his tongue. Sweet and addictive and—

Rhysand rudely knocked on the door, his sultry voice a purr. “In the kitchen, Azriel? Really? I would have expected more from a gentleman like you.” 

“Fuck off, Rhys.” 

The High Lord chuckled, but slipped away all the same. 

Azriel grinned against your lips, your hands clasped together between your bodies. “I just wanted one last kiss before tonight.” 

“Tonight.” You nodded frantically. 

Tonight. 

You were doing this. You were really doing this. 

Then you realized what he’d said. “I won’t see you before then?”

“I don’t think the others will let us.” 

Your laughs rang in the air, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets like wedding bells. 

On the other side of your door you could feel everyone’s anticipation. And you couldn't keep them waiting much longer. They might just break down the door. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered before stealing one last kiss. 

“Tonight.” Azriel agreed. His breath curled around your ear, lips brushing against the tip as he promised, “Until then.”

Feyre, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Elain, and Mor descended upon the Palace of Thread and Jewels, all too eager to heap your arms full of the most expensive lace money could buy. 

You were about to marry into the Night Court and had a High Lord father who needed to make up for centuries of fatherly absence. There was more than enough gold to throw around.

“What do you think of this?” Feyre asked, draping the pale blue silk over your shoulder.

The clothier’s shop was bustling in the late morning, but no one dared step foot into the private room your family was set up in. The enchanted curtain blocked out all noise — tthe pinnacle of privacy.

You stood alone on a low platform, swishing the skirts of your dress and imagining what the finished product might look like. 

Farron, the clothier, had been quick to stitch a muslin mock up of the design you’d chosen, knotted fingers shocking in their dexterity as needle and thread disappeared and reappeared in her hand like some trick of the eye. She hadn’t even taken your measurements. One spin with your arms outstretched and she’d set about cutting the exact length of material needed for your mating ceremony gown. 

It was no wonder that she was Rhysand’s preferred clothier.

It still felt like a dream. Some wonderful, impossible dream as you took in the sight of the fabric over your chest. 

It glistened like moonlight and flowed like river water.

“Feyre, it’s perfect,” You breathed, touching the silken threads beneath your fingertips. 

“An excellent choice,” Farron said with a smile. She stood dutifully off to the side, tortoise-rimmed glasses growing her eyes to bug-like proportions.

You were a lovely thing in her eyes. A fine match for the Shadowsinger, indeed. 

Now, no one had told her that that was the cause for celebration. But she’d been clothing the Night Court males for a long while and knew them like the back of her hand. And you? You were made for the Shadowsinger. That much was clear. 

It was from centuries of experience that she classified the soft parting of your mouth and wide eyes. It was the look mates and brides alike adopted when they’d found the perfect dress. The one that would make them feel as perfect and precious as a pearl.

Your brows furrowed in concern. “My mating ceremony is tonight. Will it be ready by then?”

“Pfffft.” The clothier slapped her chest indignantly. “It will be ready in three hours time. You can return once after you’ve finished your shopping and we’ll have a final ceremony look ready for you, my dear.” 

With a dress being sewn together at Farron’s, Mor hurried you along to what she believed was the most critical part of any mating ceremony dress — the lingerie. The ordeal left a permanent blush on your cheeks as you quickly moved on to the shoemaker and then the jeweler. 

“Which one did you decide on?” Mor asked once again. She trailed at your heels, resting her chin on your shoulder as you kept your wares clutched to your chest. 

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Why not?” She whined. Red fingernails grazed the tissue paper that peaked out from the edges of the lingerie box. 

“Because that is for Azriel to know, and only Azriel,” you said, snatching the box out of her grasp. 

Nesta laughed. “What does it matter which pair she’s picked? It’s not like it will survive the first night of the frenzy.” 

Your cheeks burned with color. 

Mor giggled at your shyness. “Don’t act coy now, Y//n. We all know what you four read in your free time.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t benefit, love.” Emerie teased, squeezing Mor’s hip. 

“I never suggested such a thing.” 

Gwyn gagged when they kissed and everyone broke apart into fits of laughter in the streets, leaning against shoulders and stumbling on the cobblestones as they caught their breath. 

You were pressed in on all sides by familiar bodies, a comforting mixture of perfumes, and the sounds of laughter.

It’s happening. It’s really happening. 

Your grin could have put the sun to shame as you bounced on your heels in front of the mirror. 

Pale blue silk dipped down to the center of your chest and fell off your shoulders like mist. Wide, airy sleeves hovered at your elbows, ending in curls of hand-woven lace. A pair of ribbon-tie shoes and ear-tip cuffs completed the ensemble. 

They were both blue for Azriel — for your mate — who currently stood awestruck by the door. 

You didn’t startle when you caught a sliver of his reflection in the mirror. In fact, you were rather pleased to see his slack jaw and glistening eyes. 

“What do you think?” You asked as Azriel slipped out from the darkness and into your old bedroom. 

You hardly stepped foot in here anymore. Azriel’s bedroom had solidly become yours. Your clothes were mixed in with his. Your perfume bottles and soaps lined his bathroom. Your scent was tied to his bed, or rather your bed. 

“I think… I think you’re a dream, Y/n.” He spoke with a sigh. 

He melted into the curve of your neck, hands ghosting over your shoulders with a feather-light touch. 

He shook his head, as if disappointed. 

“No,” he corrected himself, “You’re far better than a dream because you’re real, and I can’t believe you’re mine.” 

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered. 

You leaned back against his chest and breathed deeply, feeling your heart soothe itself to the rhythm of his breathing and the scent of mountain air and cedar trees. 

He was beautiful. Black velvet encased his broad shoulders, cutting out a silhouette of pitch black night and highlighting the glow of his hazel eyes — like two chips of amber aglow in a dark wood. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring and threading your fingers into his soft, black curls, eliciting a soft groan from his lips that had your blood stirring to life. 

“I thought we were supposed to meet downstairs.” 

Azriel smiled. “I selfishly wanted to be the first to see you.” 

“That’s not selfish at all,” You hummed. You began tracing the gold cuffs that spanned the length of his ears and the subtle embroidery at the wrists and front of his shirt. They were distinctly Day Court fashions, and he wore them well. “These are new.” 

“I may or may not have reached out to your father for advice when picking out my clothes.” 

“I like them. Day Court colors suit you. They bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.” 

Azriel smiled, kissing the curve of your ears and playing with the sapphire necklace clasped around your neck. The drag of metal and fingertips over your chest had you shivering.  

You gently tugged at his hair and he obeyed the unspoken command to lean down and capture your lips in a kiss. Soft sounds spilled from both of you as he walked you back towards the wall and gently pressed you against it, flatting his hands by the sides of your head. 

Azriel got lost in the taste of you. Your hands in his hair. The feeling of your hips flush against his. Every movement was subtle, but eager, in its wanting and Azriel knew that when he finally had you beneath him, he’d be ruined… If he wasn’t ruined already. 

There was another reason he’d wanted to see you first before relinquishing you to the formalities of a mating ceremony. 

He’d been on edge all day, unused to being the unbridled center of attention among his brothers. Cassian was brash and loud, Rhysand flirtatious and passionate. Even Lucien radiated an undeniable charisma that made him popular within crowds. 

But Azriel had always prized quiet and peace above all else. He wanted to feel that peace again. 

The bond rose within him like high tide, spilling color and light into his chest as you pressed your forehead against his and cradled the curve of his neck. 

He breathed deep and he breathed freely, feeling something in his soul mend itself with a roll of anticipation. A tendril of cold wrapped around his ear and whispered in a language only Azriel could understand.

Too long, master. It’s been too long.

Azriel’s eyes flew open. He’d nearly forgotten the shape of their words — the language that he’d been taught to speak after years spent in the dark. Months of soft spoken words he could barely make out became a chorus of congratulations as they sensed the connection that now bound you and Azriel together. 

They’d known about it since the beginning, but now that you were also aware, they were ecstatic.

Black shadows spilled out from his skin, eagerly wrapping you up in a shell of twisting darkness. They embraced you, kissing your cheeks with cool, feathery touches. 

Azriel swallowed your laughter, hands diving down and lifting up your dress so he could squeeze your thighs and wrap your legs around him. 

It was a kiss made of teeth and longing and relief. With his shadows having returned and a mating bond ready to be accepted, Azriel felt invincible. Like he was cradling the world in his arms. 

But it was ended all too soon by a shadow in his ear that warned, They’re almost at the door. 

Gods he missed having them around. 

You gasped, picking up on the sound of Lucien and Helion’s strong footsteps coming towards the door. They were supposed to walk you downstairs before handing you off to your mate, and although Azriel had made leaps and bounds in earning their blessing you didn’t think they’d take kindly to seeing the Shadowsinger flush between your legs just before your mating ceremony. 

“Shit.” You hissed, untangling yourself from Azriel as he fixed your dress and struggled to hide his laughter. 

You pushed him backwards, masking both your scents and shoving him inside the wardrobe. 

“My Y/n, what are you doing?” Azriel asked. He needed to bend just to fit inside the empty wardrobe. His eyes glittered with amusement, shadows pooling around his wings. 

“I-I was going to try and hide you before my father and brother come inside but” — a handful of shadows curled around your wrists and ankles, intent on becoming permanent fixtures for as long as you were separated from your mate —  “I see that’s not necessary anymore.” 

Azriel grinned and pulled you in for one last kiss. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he whispered just as Lucien’s polite knock came at the door.  

“I’ll see you downstairs.” 

His shadows swirled around him and he melted into the darkness. 

Mating ceremonies were fluid, adaptable affairs. They could be as extravagant and public or as humble and private as one desired. It made no difference. You were his, and he was yours. Now and forever. 

You would have accepted the bond with Azriel in your father’s palace or in a desert wasteland. Still, you had to agree that home was best. 

The largest room in the River House — the dining room — had been cleared out for the purpose of your mating ceremony. Candlelight flickered atop the fireplace mantle where you, Azriel, and the priestess stood, and within sconces dripping with wisteria and baby’s breath along the wall. The light of a thousand lanterns, gauzy and warm, lit up the gardens outside the House.

“All kneel,” the priestess said, holding out two crowns of lavender and lilies of the valley. 

Everyone kneeled in a loose half-circle. 

Her dusty blue robes brushed against the floor as she placed the crown atop Azriel’s head and then yours. At her instruction, you shifted on the floor, facing each other with smiles that couldn’t be contained.

Azriel’s eyes burned bright, as if all the gold in the world had been distilled and dropped into them. 

You took the candles the priestess held out, holding them in your left hand and clasping together your right. 

Azriel snuck a quick kiss to your palm before the priestess could wrap your wrists and hands together with ribbons of blue and gold. She drifted her fingers over the candles and lit them with a flourish. 

Before the Mother, the priestess, and your family, you exchanged your vows. 

Secret glances passed between you and the Shadowsinger. Brief smiles tugged at the corners of your lips. Squeezing hands soothed your soul and grounded you in the present as you spoke the words together:

I give to you the hands of a warrior, lover, friend, and mate, till the darkness comes and our endings wake. 

I give to you my name, to hold on your lips and to pass on your years in hope and longing, in joy and tears.

Blood of blood. Bone of bone. I shall be yours, and you shall be mine. 

Until we return to the earth and hear the Mother’s song. Until the end of our days—

“Until death and beyond,” Azriel whispered the final vows. 

“Until death and beyond,” you replied. 

“Who the hell spilled the champagne!” 

The floor was already sticky with it, grabbing onto Rhysand’s shoes as he stepped out of the puddle. A guilty Feyre chugged the last dregs in the bottle, magicking away the spill with a snap of her fingers and a sultry wink towards her mate. She shrieked with laughter when Rhys limped over to her, collapsing around her shoulders and blowing kisses against her neck. 

Nyx sat at Amren’s feet on the floor, struggling to hold his violet eyes open as she scratched his head with her silver-tipped nails. Amren was not one for parties and regarded the room with bored eyes. 

Mor sat in the seat of honor — Emerie’s lap — whispering gossip in the Illyrian’s ear as you and Azriel tried to make yourselves sparse in the corner. 

You were half-hidden behind Azriel’s wings as he leaned his head against your shoulder. Leave it to you two to hide at your own mating ceremony. 

Lucien and Elain drank wine by the kitchen. She left her hand comfortably on his upper arm and smiled when he tucked a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. They were a handsome couple — all pale colors and golden gazes, like sunshine spilling over a new day. 

Helion, entertaining as always, dazzled the group that had assembled around him composed of Gwyn, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta. Every so often his bright eyes would land on you and he’d wink before pointing threateningly in Azriel’s direction. 

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter and he dipped his lips to your ears and asked, “Do you think he’ll ever approve of me?”

“He already approves of you, he just doesn’t want you to know.” 

“He’s a smart male for keeping such a secret. My ego may grow too big for you to handle if he compliments me outright.” 

“Didn’t he once invite you to his bed?”

“That’s not very special coming from Helion.” 

You burst out laughing, attracting everyone’s attention as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest to stifle the noise. He laughed aloud as well. Head thrown back, chest and shoulders shaking. It was a full-bodied laugh that harmonized with yours as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back. 

Azriel’s laughter had once been a rare sound, but you drew it out of him so easily, like a musician with their instrument. 

Feyre grinned and clapped her hands together. All at once the dining room rearranged itself. The candle flames grew brighter. A table laden with food and chairs popped into existence. 

For such a special occasion, you and Azriel sat at the head of the table, subtly leaning against one another with your legs tangled beneath the tablecloth as you ate.

There was a cake still waiting to be cut in the kitchen — a cake that you’d baked with Azriel’s name written all over it in invisible ink. 

Nyx twisted around in his chair, eyes utterly fixated on the seemingly endless rows of lanterns glowing in the garden. 

“Mom.” Nyx tugged on Feyre’s wrist as she cleaned his cheek. “When will I get to float the lanterns?” 

Feyre looked to you and Azriel. 

The lanterns were an old Day Court tradition. On the longest night of the year, Day Court citizens dared to step outside into the dark and light up the sky with their own sun-painted lanterns. It was a way to keep the darkness at bay for a little while longer. A time to add your own light to the night sky. 

“Now,” you smiled. “Let’s do it now.” 

You all spilled out into the gardens, cheering Nyx on as he raced ahead of everyone else with short, energetic strides. His wings flared out behind him, catching the name of the wind as it whispered against the velvety membrane. 

“Not yet!” Rhys reminded him. “You need to let your aunt and uncle go first.” 

You and Azriel picked up the largest lantern of them all, delicate rice paper crinkling as you held it up. The starburst-shaped lantern glowed faintly. A burning sun. A fallen star.

Everyone bent over in the flowers and grasses, hunting to find the second-best lantern for themselves. 

“This one’s for Velaria,” Nyx said, holding up a small, round orb. “This one’s for you, Daddy.” A pale lavender lantern was placed carefully in his father’s hand. “And this one’s for Mommy.” 

“Why thank you, honey.” Feyre bent low, kissing her son’s velvety black hair as she held Velaria in her arms. 

“Is everyone ready?” You called out. 

Cheers sounded from all around. Particularly energetic whoops came from Cassian and Mor, who tipped back their heads and howled like wolves, ready to throw their lanterns to the sky. 

Azriel tucked you beneath the curve of his wings and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple before you both let your magic seep into the lantern and sent it skywards. 

There was chatter from all sides. Soft gasps leaving open-mouth stares as a dozen lanterns started drifting upwards like miniature suns. 

“It’s all you, Nyx!” Azriel shouted. 

The boy leapt into action, finding the tallest patch of ground in the garden to make his directorial debut. He fixed the tilt of his bowtie and bent his knees. Slowly and dramatically he curled his fingers, raising his hands upwards like he meant to pull water out of the ground. 

He looked like an orchestra conductor leading his players in a great crescendo as the remaining one-thousand lanterns took off into the night sky. 

You gasped and flung your hands up to your lips. Three hundred and forty-three years you’d been alive, and this was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. 

You turned to Azriel only to find that he was already staring at you — at the light of a thousand suns reflected in your eyes. 

You found yourself proven wrong, and not for the first time. The lanterns were only the second most beautiful sight… and you wanted to see more.

Azriel read the idea forming in your mind and nodded. 

Without hesitation, you took his hand, slinking through the now darkening garden as everyone else’s attention was directed towards the sky. 

Lanterns arced through the darkness, staining the sky warm orange as if a painter had swept her brush over the black canvas. 

Shadows nipped at your heels and covered your tracks, urging you onward as you slipped back into the House and then the kitchen. 

You didn’t even bother cutting the cake. After rummaging around in the kitchen drawers for a spoon, you carved out a spoonful of chocolate cake with strawberries and a healthy dollop of whipped cream frosting — Azriel’s favorite. 

The Shadowsinger froze, eyes darting back and forth between the cake and your flushed face. Your eyes glowed in the dim light, marked by a quiet, otherworldly beauty Azriel had never been able to resist. 

“Don’t tell me you’re second guessing this now?” You breathed, moving the spoon closer to his lips. 

“I just… I just want to make sure I remember everything about tonight,” he whispered. 

He adjusted the crown of lavender and lilies on your head, picking up a loose flower petal that had drifted onto your bare shoulders. His touch was soft. Gentle. Reverent as he trailed his fingers up your neck and brushed his thumb along your jaw. 

His lips closed around the spoon, dragging off every crumb and lick of frosting while never taking his eyes off of you. 

It was probably a delicious cake, but all Azriel would remember was the taste of your lips that followed as he drew you to his body. 

When the bond had first snapped for him, he thought the world had cracked in two. Like the sharp clap of lightning across the sky. 

What followed after the sugar and chocolate melted on his tongue was the thunder — a resounding tremor as the bond glowed hot as iron before cooling into something permanent and unbreakable. 

Azriel let out a breathless noise. Something between a sigh and a shudder. He clutched your back, nails dragging lightly along your exposed skin in a way that had you melting. 

“I want to go. Now.” You rasped. 

You wanted him desperately. More than words could describe. 

Azriel scooped you up into his arms, and together you vanished into the shadows before anyone even realized you were missing.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Y'all, I just love Y/n and Azriel so much...

THEY FUCKING DESERVE A PROPER MATING CEREMONY LIKE DAMNIT THEY BOTH NEARLY DIED LIKE 3X AND YES I'M GOING TO WRITE A SEX SCENE NEXT CHAPTER, I DON'T CARE, THEY DESERVE THIS, Y'ALL DESERVE THIS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME FOR THE LAST 6 MONTHS AND OVER 100K WORDS LIKE YOU ARE THE TRUE MVPs AND I APPRECIATE YOU IMMENSELY!!! (*but also, if you're not into reading smut scenes, I'll write the next chapter in such a way that you can just skip over it and not miss anything continuity-wise)

THANK YOU FOR READING!

We're almost at the end I've got like two chapters left, one of which is already mostly written, and maybe the epilogue will be it's own thing or part of the last chapter i don't know and just UGH it's almost over... ok i'm going to end this author's note here because I'm getting sad just thinking about this fic ending

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

[reallyromealone]

Rome you know I'm gonna need a part 2 to that zoro x reader x sanji right cause I can't let that slide😊

Title: goodbye love

Fandom: one piece

Characters: Zoro, Sanji

Fic type: angst

Pairings: Zoro x sanji

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, angst, aggressive conversation, sad reader

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(name) hummed as he stocked bread in a small bakery, it had been five months since he left and he felt lighter and happier since the breakup. He was far from the island they docked from, getting a job easily at a bakery in a small coastal town.

Occasionally he wondered how his now ex boyfriends were, how they reacted to the letter... Were they sad? Angry? Did they even care? (Name) Didn't know and slowly stopped caring. He was starting fresh, leaving the pirate life to have something more domestic and stable though getting used to land was a bit tough.

"(Name), you work too much, go home early" the elderly bakery owner said softly, her cane tapping against the old wood with each step "are you sure? I don't mind being here" (name) asked her, (bakery owner) chuckled as she led him out "the rush is over, not many people will come today"

"Alright, but just get one of the kids to get me if it gets busy"

"Yes yes, now go!"

(Name) Chuckled as he was kicked out of the store, she was old but strong.

'with this extra time, might as well grab some stuff from the market' he thought as he went back to his place to grab some bags and coin, the walk calm and the gulls squawked as they flew overhead, the town was on the side of a huge hill, winding and full of turns, small but popular. It was perfect.

His apartment was small, he was surprised to have a one bedroom, a fireplace for cooking and even a bit of space for seating. His bed was the most expensive thing he owned, he saw it at the market and immediately got it. It was a futon, comfiest thing he ever slept on and he even got pillows. It was pricy but thankfully he had a fair amount of coin from his previous employment.

He only slept on wood or a hammock.

It was a nice adjustment.

The market was the biggest thing beside the town square, many vendors and travellers in and out selling everything and anything one could need.

(Name) Loved getting fruits from other places, one a trip as a treat for himself, today he got something called an apple, typically he's used to mango and jackfruit on this island so it was a nice change.

(Name) Made a few purchases, important house things and a few little trinkets for himself.

A book from a far away land.

An apple.

Some sewing needles and thread as he wished to learn to sew better.

And finally, a little music box.

It was nothing fancy but the sound it played reminded him of childhood, his mother would hum a tune quite similar to it.

What he didn't expect to see was a familiar boat.

"Shit" (name) immediately rushed home, he wasn't ready to face anything at the moment and definitely not with how he left.

(Name) Was shaking as he got inside, glancing out the window of his apartment to see if they are close to his home, irrational be knew but he had to check. Thankfully the street just had a few passersby and no strawhats. He would have to avoid anywhere that sold alcohol for a while, most restaurants and thankfully he was off for the next few days so he didn't have to go to the bakery. (Name) Looked at his collection of books and the sewing supplies and sighed happily.

Guess he has to stay inside and do the things he enjoy.

What a shame.

(Name) Spent the day doing his hobbies as a tiny radio played music in the corner, thankfully this small town had a radio station so he could enjoy some sound.

Knock knock knock.

(Name) Was engrossed in his quilt as he looked up curiously, setting his project down to go down to answer the door, a staircase down to the front door "hello (name), I thought you would enjoy some bread" his boss said kindly and handed him a basket of breads and a few muffins "ah thanks boss, that's real kind of you" the two made small talk casually, the elderly woman happy he's starting a new project "I have some sewing supplies at my home, I'm to old to use them but you can have them" the woman ushered him to follow and (name) realized he would have to leave his house.

Shit.

Silently begrudgingly he followed her, the woman excited to have someone take the supplies.

Then he smelt it half way to the bakery, cigarettes and fresh made food.

"(Name)?" He didn't turn around as his boss looked back curious, Sanji staring at his ex in awe.

(Name) Looked different.

Glowing, lighter and most of all; happier.

(Name) Turned to see his ex and sighed "hello Sanji" this is why he didn't want to go outside, his ex boyfriend looking hurt at the lack of sweet names for him, stopping closer he saw the uncomfortable expression wash over him "Luffy is gone to go get some food, have you.... (Name)" Zoro halted, staring at (name) like salvation.

(Name) Was startled at how awful the two looked, like they barely slept and sanji looked almost dead inside "can we talk?" His voice gravelly with exhaustion and (name) looked to his boss who smiled "we can talk later, you do what you need to do"

And that's how (name) ended up with the two in his apartment "So what do you guys want" (name) said less of a question and more of a demand, clearly uncomfortable "seems you settled down nice" Zoro commented as he looked at the homey space "I have" (name) stared at them unimpressed "why did you leave?" Sanji finally spoke up and the room grew more tense.

"I couldn't stay any longer, not with you two"

"Why?!" Zoro snapped and (name) had enough "because you two didn't care!" (Name) Fired back angrily "you two acted like I didn't exist! Flirting with women and ignoring me to do anything else! Who in their right mind WOULD WANT THAT! DID YOU EVEN LOVE ME?!"

It was silent as (name) heaved out a dog "I gave you two everything! And I get cheating and neglect!"

The two pirates barely had time to react as (name) lost his shit on them "why didn't you love me?" (Name) Finally asked, shaking and angry "why was it never me? You two showed more love to women and fucking swords than me!"

"I-im sorry..." Sanji whispered and (name) looked him in the eye "then why did you look at Nami in a way that you could never look at me?"

Zoro fidgeted, knowing he was next and in a rare moment... He was nervous.

"And why was I not worth spending time with?" There it was "you come here demanding to speak with me yet the time we dated you couldn't even be bothered to do the most basic of things with me"

"(Name)--"" I think you two should leave" (name) finally said "I have no interest in this conversation anymore... Goodbye "

"(Name) Come on-"" leave now, I'm begging you"

The two sorrowfully walk down the stairs, unable to get a word in as the door slammed behind them.

And at that moment they truly realized.

They lost (name).

[fanficsbyme-causeimgay]

Imagine, if you will, you have been hiking. Regardless of your disability that gave you problems walking, hiking was an activity you loved doing.

Sadly, one day, that disability does not help.

You trip and fumble, rolling down a hill. Thankfully, you haven't broken anything, but you have lost your backpack that had the means to contact others to help you. Your phone broke, but even if it hadn't broken, you wouldn't have any signal.

Lying there in pain because of the many injuries you've sustained - as minor as they might be, they're still painful - you just see a shadow looming above you.

When you wake up next, you're in a cabin in the middle of the woods. The owner and sole person living in it is what can only be described as a lumberjack. Big man with thick arms and even thicker and strong voice that was a lot gentler than you'd expect from a man of his size. He helped you, he took you from where you were and brought you to his home - Here you have been for three days until now. He lives away from proper civilization, and although he has an emergency kit, he doesn't really use it, and some things have expired already. He can't exactly leave you here because it would take him days to get to the closest town, and you can't possible be by yourself for so long in the state you're in!

So he stayed.

As he lives alone and you're taking his only bed, he sleeps on the ground. At first, you felt really guilty about it - it is his house, so he should sleep on the bed! - but he keeps insisting that this wasn't the first time he slept on the ground and probably won't be the last. Still, you insist that at least you share, right? But it is awkward to share the bed with a stranger. So, why not become friends? That way the awkwardness will fade away... right?

You learn a few things about him. Very important things indeed.

He loves star fruits. His favorite color is green. He is an avid reader of what he explained to you to be scientific texts about soil and rocks (he went on and on about the differences between various types of rocks). He has taken to the art of woodcarving. And he also loves bears! He has made various small hand sized little bear statues that he has all around his house.

Talking about his house, although you have been mostly confined to the bedroom, you have seen a bit of it, mainly the kitchen. After a week of living together, you can finally move your body without too much pain or strain on your muscles, but walking still eludes you, cane or no cane. It is too painful. Maybe you tore something? Regardless, he sets you down on a chair he most likely makes himself and talks about whatever he wants as he makes dinner, and he is a good cook! He lives alone, so he has to be... Or make food good enough to eat.

He loves soups, too. "They're easy to make, hut hard to truly master." Is what he said when you asked about it... and it kinda makes sense.

One week turns into two, and you're starting to move around a little more, and that's when he takes you outside. It was cold, very cold, and that is when you find out he lives on top of a mountain. Without windows in his house ("I don't like them for... personal reasons."), you didn't really know you were higher up, but it was a beautiful, beautiful place... Miles and miles of forest as far as the eyes could see - and you could see your original trail too. It was two or so miles away and a steep drop down, too.

He sat you down by the porch and you two just watched the horizon as the sun set down before going back inside... it felt weirdly romantic.

Maybe that was when things started.

You began to help him with cooking - just small things. "Let me cut the potatoes for you." Oh yeah, he grew them and a bunch of other things too. He likes gardening, too... "Let me help you with that!" Or a good ol' "You look like you need some help."

And soft touches when reaching out for the same thing became more natural. Touches become more natural. Sleeping on the same bed becomes natural. Cuddling becomes more natural. And that was when you noticed it - He was gruff with it. He just told you: "I turn into a big bear sometimes." Like was the most common and perfectly normal thing for a big guy like him to do!

"Uhm, like, regularly?"

"Whenever I want to."

"...can I see that?"

And he shows you. He is big. He is brown. He is fluffy.

Secrelty, he is also extremely happy that you didn't freak out and tried to run away. He is even happier when you literally cuddle the fuck out od him.

But time, as always, moves on.

You were well enough to return to civilization. And he knew that, so he told you that the next morning, he would bring you to the nearest town. As a last farewell, he made a campfire, and you both sat together and watched as thunder rumbled above your heads. The dark clouds rolling in as rain would soon fall - and that is when he pulls out a simple guitar.

"...can I sing you something?" He asks, nervous. "I don't make any promises about the quality. It will probably suck."

"I would love to hear it." You say.

And he sings -

And when he finishes, you can't help it.

You don't wanna leave.

That night, you both did kiss, like real people do.

[classywalkingcanes]

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[rubysunnday]

when it's cold, i'd like to die

summary: they all fell victim to the datura meloxia that night, they all saw something - yet y/n's nightmare is unescapable, despite kaz's best efforts

a/n: haha, lol, i'm alive

Kaz pulled apart the doors, gradually revealing the room behind them. Y/N stood behind him, taking it all in. It was a beautiful building - the walls decorated with intricately patterned wallpaper and wooden panels. 

“Spread out,” Kaz ordered, his rough voice loud in the quiet of the room. 

Y/N stepped around him and into the room, taking slow, careful steps. Things were going a bit too well to her liking - they had yet to run into their usual chaos. 

“I can hear another heartbeat,” Tolya said softly, walking further into the room.

“I thought it was empty,” Jesper muttered, passing Y/N. 

“So did I,” she replied, glancing at him. 

“It’s fainter,” Tolya explained, “further in the house.”

Tolya took a step forward, almost reaching the other door that led further into the house. The floorboards under his foot sunk suddenly and something, somewhere within the walls, released and the doors on either side of the room slid shut with a resounding bang. 

Y/N ran back to the door they’d come through and tried to prise it back open. Her finger nails dug into the wood and she groaned, struggling to pull them at all, even with Jesper’s help.

Inej unsheathed one of her knives and stabbed the patterned screen. The knife bounced off it, leaving nothing behind. She tried again and still, nothing. “It’s impenetrable,” she said, stepping back. “Great.”

Kaz knocked on the wooden panelling with the head of his cane. His face dropped in realisation as, instead of a hollow wooden sound, there was a metal clang. “The frames are made of metal.”

Jesper pressed a hand against the frame, leaning his head in. “They’re Durast made.”

Y/N tilted her head back and looked around the room. It wasn’t big - it was smaller than what had been Kaz’s office back at the old Crow Club. But given that the frames were Durast made, and that Tolya had detected another heartbeat at the back of the grounds, there was more to the small room than it was letting on.

From somewhere within the roof, something metal clanked against something else, causing a ticking sound. Y/N’s eyes scanned the perimeter of the roof until they stopped on one of the small lanterns hanging on the wall. As she watched it, a red mist began to spray out of the floral shape above, spreading out into the air. 

“There’s something in the air,” Tolya said, looking up at the lantern too. 

It was, sort of, stating the obvious. They’d all noticed the red vapour by then and Y/N could feel her chest growing tight, the ability to breathe getting harder. She fell back, hitting the wall behind her, the room spinning around her like a spinning top she so often saw in the Ketterdam markets. 

Y/N felt someone looking at her and she had enough awareness left to turn her head, finding Kaz staring at her, his own face utterly impassive. Yet his eyes gave everything away - the slight widening showing the panic that had taken over the usual stoicism. 

Because whilst he may plan for things to go catastrophically wrong, Kaz Brekker couldn’t plan a way to cheat death when it came for them. 

Jesper went first, falling to the floor and falling still. Inej lasted a little longer - leaning back against the walls, struggling to stay awake. But even she fell, landing quietly and carefully even as she was dying.

Y/N felt her knees go weak and she braced herself against the wall behind her. She tried to keep her head up, to keep looking at Kaz. But it soon became impossible. Her vision blurred as her head pounded and her chest got tighter. Kaz became a black blur and Y/N fell sideways, the room spinning around her.

She didn’t feel herself hit the floor. One second she was suffocating, unable to breathe or think and the next she was standing in the middle of the Barrel, the sea spray from the harbour hitting her skin. 

“Y/N!”

Kaz stood at the other end of the street, a black shadow against the white lights of the street lamps. She could his cane, the metal crow’s head glinting in the hazy light. Y/N took a single step forward and as she did so, the building next to Kaz exploded. 

The force of the explosion threw Y/N backwards, the heat of the flames burning her face and her arms. She landed on the wet cobblestones, the force of the impact rippling throughout her entire body. 

For a while, there was just blackness. Y/N could see nothing. She could hear nothing. Then, gradually, her senses came back. First, she tasted blood in her mouth, then the pain ripping through her body and then the sound of the flames, of the rubble still falling. 

Y/N forced her eyes open, even as the smoke stung them. The street lamps had gone out around them - the fires burning within the rubble the only light available for the smoke had covered the moon. She coughed, her lungs burning, her breath getting caught in her throat. 

Rubble rolled off her and onto the ground and she struggled to get up, her legs bending, refusing to hold her weight. Y/N fell against a pile of rubble and pushed herself upwards, grazing her hands against the exposed masonry. 

As her mind finally caught up, the shock fading away, the panic set in. 

“Kaz!” Y/N screamed, coughing as the smoke invaded her throat. “Kaz!”

Her foot tripped over something and Y/N landed on the ground again, her face barely avoiding smacking the stones. She groaned, coughing weakly, her shoulders shaking.

“Y/N.”

Y/N rolled over and she came face to face with Kaz. He looked fine - as if he hadn’t just been blown up and thrown aside. She inhaled as his bare hand looped under her arm, his fingers pressing into her skin, and he pulled her up. 

“Kaz, what -”

“It’s ok,” Kaz said, his voice rough. “Just an experiment gone wrong.”

His other hand pressed gently against her side and Y/N’s body tightened at the unfamiliar yet all too familiar sensation. She leant into him, her stomach brushing against his waistcoat. 

“We’re ok.”

“Kaz!”

Kaz gasped and sat up abruptly, his hands flying out in front of him. Someone caught his wrist and he fought against them, wrenching his hand free.

“Saints, Kaz, it’s just me,” Jesper said, ducking to avoid Kaz’s blind punch. 

Kaz blinked and the water, and Jordie’s face looming over him, fade away, replaced by Jesper and the room they’d been locked in. Jesper looked down at him, vague concern on his face as he watched him. 

“What -”

“Wylan said the butterflies are the antidote,” Jesper explained, grimacing slightly. “I had to… well.”

Kaz swallowed, his mouth dry and tasting of something not very nice. He stumbled to his feet, batting away Jesper’s offered hand, and all but slamming his cane into the ground. “Poison?”

“Yeah, some fancy sounding name,” Jesper replied. “Wylan -”

“ - knows, I’ve got it,” Kaz said.

He looked around the room, his eyes surveying the walls and the state of his crew. Kaz’s eyes widened a fraction as his gaze stopped on Inej leaning over an unconscious Y/N, a hand over her mouth. 

Inej, noticing that Kaz was staring at her, lifted her head and looked back at him. Her eyes were filled with fear. “She won’t wake up. I’m trying, Kaz -”

Wylan’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Something’s holding her in the nightmare.”

“Her heartbeat is slowing,” Tolya added. He was knelt beside Inej, a hand wrapped around Y/N’s wrist, his fingers pressed against her pulse point.

“Kaz,” Jesper muttered. “It’s gotta be you.”

Kaz didn’t need Jesper to tell him that. He knew. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Because acknowledging Y/N’s need for him, meant acknowledging his need for her. His inability to live without her. 

“Inej, here,” Wylan said, sticking his hand through the hole in the wall, “another butterfly. But she can’t have more than two otherwise it becomes poisonous in itself.”

Inej stood and took the butterfly from Wylan’s outstretched hand and turned to Kaz. She held it out to him, her eyes locking to his. “Kaz, it has to be you.”

Kaz clenched his jaw, a muscle jumping in the corner. His leather gloves creaked as he gripped the head of his cane. 

“Kaz!” Jesper yelled. “If you let her die, I will kill you myself.”

The butterfly twitched pathetically in Inej’s hand. Kaz dropped his cane and limped over, gingerly taking the blue butterfly between his fingers.

“What do I do?” He asked, his voice a mere rasp.

“Put it in her mouth and force her to eat it,” Inej said, taking a step back. “Cover her mouth, pinch her nose - do whatever you have to do to get her to eat it.”

Kaz exhaled and knelt down on Y/N’s right side, wincing as his leg twinged in pain. Tolya shuffled back slightly but stayed on her other side, his hand still on her wrist. 

His argument was with his inner demons. Kaz would do anything for Y/N - and he had. He’d brought her out the White Lotus, he’d taken her into the Crows, he’d saved her life in Ravka on the skiff in the Fold - he’d told her more than he’d told anyone else. His demons had let him go that far, so why wouldn’t they let him go any further?

Kaz could feel the squishy skin of the dead bodies as his leg brushed against Y/N’s. He could taste the salt water of the harbour. Jordie was still in his mind. 

With one hand he prised Y/N’s mouth open, slightly startled at how easy it was. As gently as he could, he gripped it open and put the butterfly inside. Blue tinged her lips from the previous attempt. Kaz closed Y/N’s mouth and then put his hand over her lips, fighting the urge to let go and throw up. 

“Come on, Y/N, please,” he whispered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. 

He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as he felt his nightmare fighting back. Kaz placed his other hand against the side of her face, his thumb trailing up and down her cheek, a feeble attempt to ground himself but to also tell Y/N that he was there. 

It had been a few seconds since Kaz had put the butterfly inside her mouth, but it felt agonisingly long - and nothing was happening. 

“Y/N!” Kaz yelled, shaking her shoulders.

Apparently aggression worked because Y/N inhaled sharply and sat up, her hands flying out to grip onto anything - anyone. One hand gripped onto Tolya’s arm, her nails digging into his skin. Her other gripped Kaz’s sleeve, her knuckles brushing against the skin of his inner wrist. 

She coughed, chewing on the butterfly in her mouth. “Urgh, what the fuck is this,” she muttered, grimacing.

Tolya patted her on the back, laughing. “You don’t want to know.”

He ruffled her hair and stood up, stepping back and turning to talk to Inej. Everyone had conveniently found something else to do as Kaz and Y/N stared at one another. Her hand was still gripping his coat sleeve.

“Are you ok?” She asked, her voice quivering slightly.

Kaz nodded once. “Fine.”

Y/N looked at him - properly looked at him. “I’m fine, too.”

“Everyone’s lost their minds.”

Y/N snorted softly, glancing back over her shoulder as Wylan and Jesper continued to kiss one another. “I think we all did,” she said softly, turning back. 

Kaz turned as well, looking at her as her own gaze caught his. They looked at one another as they walked, neither saying a word. 

“Maybe…” Kaz paused, elegantly stepping over a rock, “I did see something… through the haze of the poison.” 

Y/N nodded once in acknowledgment. Kaz stopped and Y/N did too, turning to face him. His eyes were full of so many different emotions and thoughts - but they were focused on her and her alone

“There are those who drown us,” Kaz said softly, “and those who pull us out.”

The early morning sun was beginning to rise behind Kaz - his black coat absorbing all the light. Y/N shifted slightly, using his head to block the sun from her eyes so that she could still see him. 

“What did your toxin trip reveal to you?” Kaz asked.

Y/N bit her lip gently, shuddering slightly as her mind went back. To Kaz lying lifelessly at her side to him suddenly being in one piece and knocking her out the way of Pekka’s bullet. Nightmares turned into dreams were weird. One moment she’s screaming and the next she’s in his arms, feeling his heart beating. Y/N knew that would never happen and that simply hoping for it was dangerous. 

Hoping for something that she could never have.

“Hope is dangerous,” she said quietly, resisting the temptation to avert her eyes from Kaz’s. “It clouds your judgement and makes you believe unrealistic things.”

Kaz’s face cracked slightly, his true emotion coming through for just a moment before it vanished behind the wall again. For just that second, Y/N saw the pain - the desire. But the it was gone.

“Y/N!” Nina yelled. “You coming?”

Y/N’s head turned sharply, looking over at Nina where she stood expectantly waiting with Zoya and Tolya. “Yeah,” Y/N replied. “Just coming.”

She turned back to look at Kaz but he’d walked away, heading backwards and to Inej. Y/N ignored the flash of pain that gripped at her heart and took a step forward, away from Kaz and everything she hoped for. 

[ericshoney]

Mini Matt in the May vlog ~ Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Based on their latest vlog, sorry if some bits seem muddled up. I'm trying to remember everything, I probably won't add everything as well.

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

You had gone back with the guys to Boston. Getting a chance to catch up with your dad, their parents, Justin and Nate. The guys had planned to do a bit of vlogging throughout the time and your first stop was the aquarium. You were also happy Madison had joined getting a chance to hang around another girl after becoming good friends with her.

"Dude look at the size of that octopus!" You exclaimed, as you got closer to the tank.

"Eww." Chris mumbled.

"Don't say eww." Madison said, as if to tell him off, but Chris only laughed.

"If they said I could put my hand in there right now and she'd wrap around it, I would." She continued.

"That would be kinda cool." You mentioned.

"I don't like the fact it's called their suckers." Chris responded.

You laughed and continued walking around, checking out everything. You bought a matching penguin to Nick's from the gift shop as the others, minus Chris, got their turtle hats.

"I'm so happy there are gay penguins." Nick said, making you giggle.

~~~~

A couple days later you took a seat at the kitchen island, listening to Matt talk about his nightmares.

"You know what's scary?" You called, as Matt finished talking.

"What?" Nick called.

"I had a similar nightmare too." You answered.

"Really!" Chris shouted.

"Yeah." You said with a nod.

"Man, Mini Matt dreaming like Matt too." Chris said with a chuckle.

You all laughed at his words, wondering how many times that would happen.

After you arrived at your next destination, walking through the woods, it seemed relaxing, until Matt started screaming penis. You laughed as Nick kept telling him off.

"Don't you start." Nick said, giving you a side eye.

"I'm not gonna scream penis." You said between giggles.

"You Mini Matt, who knows what you'll do." Nate replied with a laugh.

You laughed again as you continued your walk, Matt talking about beavers. You were just happy to be out of the house for a while.

You then all returned to Nate's place, ready for some game he and Nick came up with. You sat around the table and watched as he pulled out a toy crocodile and Nate pulled out some lemon juice, as Nick explained the game.

"Help me." You whispered to the camera, Chris laughing as he sat next to you.

You all had a turn pressing a tooth on the crocodile, squealing when it wasn't you chosen. It then slammed shut on Nick's finger, making you laugh and him scream as he took the shot of lemon juice. You carried on again until it chose Nick again.

"Fuck! It's rigged." He shouted as he took another shot.

You and Nate were the lucky ones as it never landed on either of you, making you happy.

"Me and Nate must be lucky!" You cheered as you cleaned up.

"Next time, kid." Matt said, making you stick your tongue out at him.

~~~~

"What the fuck is that!"

Are the first words you heard as you come back from the bathroom, only to see the four boys crowded around the window. The movie had been paused as Chris held the camera up, vlogging whatever was on the curtain.

"What's going on?" You asked, joining the group.

"There's a fucking centipede on the curtain!" Matt exclaimed.

"Yeah fuck no I'm out!" You shouted, jumping on the sofa behind you.

You then watched as the guys tried to fight the bug, four grown men against one bug, but it was so fast. You held onto Chris and Nate as Nick and Matt killed the bug, laughing as Matt used his shoe and Nick used grandpa's cane.

"People are gonna have so much fun with this content." You said.

"To all the bug loving freaks out there, where were you!" Nick said to the camera.

"My heroes!" You teased, hugging Matt, who laughed but hugged you back.

"Well, back to the movie." Chris said.

You all laughed, keeping an eye out for anymore bugs and knew this was a trip back to remember.

[syllvane]

i’ll be the one if you want me to- kaz brekker x reader

“Is he still angry?” Jesper asked and you didn’t have to ask for clarification on who he was talking about, the events of last night still fresh in your mind.

“What do you think?”

Jesper didn’t say anything, taking another sip of the drink he was nursing.

“What is he so angry about anyways? I wasn’t aware that dancing with you was illegal.” Jesper complained and you swiped the drink away from him as soon as he put it down, taking a sip of it for yourself.

Your face scrunched, not expecting the alcohol to be that bitter, before sliding it back over to Jesper.

“I don’t understand how you can drink that shit this early.” 

Jesper shrugged.

“It’s a learned skill. Useful for when you piss off Kaz Brekker.”

“I should just talk to him, he’s being ridiculous.”

“I should just apologize, I shouldn’t drag this out any longer than necessary.”

“You’re not the one dragging it out, Jes. Besides, you did nothing wrong. I’m allowed to dance with who I want without him getting all pissy about it.”

“Yeah, well… you know. He does have a soft spot for you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head.

“He does not.” You said and Jesper gave you a look before the door to outside opened.

He turned around and grinned.

“Nina! True or false, Kaz has a soft spot for our good friend here.”

Nina appeared on Jesper’s side, looking dubiously at the alcoholic beverage he was nursing.

“Saints, you’re starting early today. True, obviously, why?”

“He does not! If you had danced with Jesper last night, Kaz would not have given the both of you the silent treatment for the last twelve hours.”

“Well, that’s because he’s in love with you. He was jealous. I would be jealous if I saw Matthias dancing with another girl.”

You fell silent.

“You and Matthias are dating.”

“And you’re going to tell me you and Kaz aren’t? That all of those longing looks are completely platonic?”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

Nina paused.

“Are you sure you’re in the best space of mind to do so?”

You didn’t respond as you stood up from your chair, heading back to the Slat, determined.

Kaz doesn’t look up as you open the door to his office without knocking, nor as you close the door behind you.

“You don’t get to be jealous, Kaz.”

He stopped working on whatever it was that he was writing, setting the pen down.

“I’ve never been jealous of anything.”

“Then what was last night?”

He didn’t say anything, shifting his jaw.

“It was nothing. It was… misplaced anger.”

You took a deep breathe, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. For once.”

He stayed quiet, unable to meet your eyes.

“Tell me that you want me. Tell me to stay. And I will, and I will never ask you to say so again.”

Finally, he looked up.

“Is it not obvious?”

“It’s really not.” You said, your voice nearly breaking.

“I-” He started, his voice catching in his throat and breaking, unable to continue.

He looked down, his eyes closed.

You felt yourself deflate, tears in your eyes.

“Tell me to stay, Kaz, and I will. But when I exit this door, I’m gone.”

It feels like an eternity that you wait, that you stand there in his office foolishly, asking for something he can never give you, because these are the simple facts of the situation: Kaz Brekker will never ask for you to stay.

He will never pull you closer or grab your wrist while you’re walking out.

He will never ask you to stay because there is vulnerability in asking, in wanting.

He will watch you dance with Jesper, will watch you talk with Inej and giggle with Nina, will watch you look at him with inexplicable fondness and do nothing at all about it. 

You say nothing to him as you turn, speak nothing of the hope you still hold out for him.

The door shuts behind you and safely, behind the cover of wood and walls, his face contorts into anger and sadness and he hits his desk, slams his cane into a bookcase, does everything but rush out after you.

And you let him go.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Beautifully restored 1877 Victorian with a mansard roof in St. Louis, MO. 5bds, 3ba, $960K. Isn't this a pretty street? This home was the only one built by the steamboat Captain Horace Bixby (mentor of Mark Twain).

This entrance hall. What a wonderful built-in. It holds walking canes. The newel post is stunning and the lamp is kerosene- how original is that? I like the checkered floor- I think it makes it pop more than wood.

The reception room is lovely. You'll see that they have some ship antiques around, which is a great idea since it was a steamboat captain's house.

What a great fireplace in the sitting room. Even though the cabinets don't look that old, I think that they may be built-ins.

Beautifully done dining room. This home is so tastefully appointed.

Butler's pantry pass-thru to the kitchen.

The kitchen redo is stunning.

They must be leaving this piece if they show the incredible detail.

This is such a lovely bedroom.

Perfect vintage bath remodel.

Note the little laundry chute on the 2nd fl. They also kept the steep stairs intact.

This bedroom has stairs up to a beautiful terrace.

This room has a large bathroom/dressing room.

Yard is small, but so beautifully done.

But, that's not all the outdoor space. The spiral stairs go to a rooftop deck.

There is also a 2 car garage around the block.

Lovely neighborhood of gorgeous homes.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1532-Mississippi-Ave-Saint-Louis-MO-63104/2945672_zpid/?