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the-lonelybarricade · 2 months

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Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans - Chapter 3

Summary: Fresh after her third, and final, breakup with Tamlin, Feyre decides a one night stand is exactly what she needs to get him out of her system. Except, her one night stand with a violet-eyed stranger ends up being far more than she bargained for.

Or; the one where Feysand gets pregnant from a one night stand

Read on AO3 ・Masterlist・Previous Chapter

“So—you still haven’t told him.”

Feyre kept her eyes held wide, careful to avoid stabbing them with her mascara wand, as she flitted her pupils to the corner of the vanity mirror and met her roommate’s disapproving stare.

Alis was leaning against the open doorway, arms crossed. Some evenings she neglected to leave the stern teacher role in her classroom, and over the last two weeks Feyre had begun to feel increasingly like one of her misbehaving students.

“There hasn’t been a good time,” Feyre said, returning to the delicate task of swiping the wand over her eyelashes.

“Mmhmm.”

Feyre grip tightened on the tube of mascara. A slew of defensive words rushed to the back of her tongue, but she held them, enduring another of Alis’s incredulous hums as she stepped into the room. She wasn’t one of Alis’s guilty students and she wasn’t going to act like one, even as Alis began surveying the diamond-studded hairpins Feyre had spent the better part of the morning arranging, the dissected makeup bag that hadn’t been touched in weeks, the elegant dress laid on the bed.

That was where Alis ended her inspection. The midnight gown was still in its protective casing from the dry cleaners, a new addition to Feyre’s closet. Alis pulled at it, and the plastic hissed as it slid over the bed—as if warning, begging Alis not to venture any further.

“And the art show this evening hasn’t had any influence on your decision?”

Feyre capped the mascara and whirled to face Alis, who held up the dress the way a lawyer might present a piece of incriminating evidence in court. Both the dress and the art show were a gift from Tamlin—an apology and a peace offering in one. It was his way of showing that he was ready to take her art career more seriously. Or at least, that was what he’d told her at the cafe, when she’d suddenly lost all nerve to tell him the truth.

“I’m not using him for the art show, if that’s what you’re trying to imply,” Feyre snapped. “It’s just…” her shoulders slackened. “He was so excited for this, Alis. He’d already paid for the venue and invited his colleagues. I couldn’t tell him no and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand to start another fight.”

Feyre faced the mirror and it took all her self control not to cringe. The concealer had covered up the worst of the dark circles, but it couldn’t hide the exhaustion glazing over her eyes. Maybe it was all the changes in her body, but recently she’d just felt so… heavy.

With a sigh, Alis dropped the dress back onto the bed and approached Feyre from behind. Their eyes met in the mirror, and Feyre at last saw behind the mask of the stern teacher, to the concerned friend who clasped her on the shoulder and whispered, “I’m worried about you, Feyre.”

“I’m okay,” she said, but her voice scraped along the cusp of breaking. She swore that even her own reflection winced at the lie.

Alis clucked her tongue. “You’re trying to handle all of this by yourself.” When Feyre said nothing, Alis added, almost desperately, “Let us help you. If not me, then someone else.”

Besides Feyre and Alis, there were only two people who knew of her pregnancy. Two people that she had been admittedly avoiding since she’d blurted the truth to them outside the cafe. In a typical Mor fashion, Feyre had been bombarded with texts over the last two weeks, each of them cheerfully dancing around the pea-sized elephant in her stomach.

All but one.

I respect you and my cousin enough not to meddle. This baby stuff is between you and him and no matter what happens, I support you unequivocally. I just want to say one thing, then I promise I’ll never bring it up again:

Rhys is a really good guy, Feyre. You can trust him.

Anyway, you want to grab brunch this weekend? Bottomless virgin mimosas?

Feyre was fairly certain that a virgin mimosa was just orange juice, but it made her heart feel light enough that she’d pulled up Rhysand’s contact details and nearly sent him a message. But once it was typed out, her thumb waivered above the keyboard, and regardless of how hopelessly she willed herself to press send, her body resisted.

She’d only met Rhysand twice now, but each meeting had felt more akin to a collision, knocking her violently off her predetermined path, leaving her unmoored. Unsettled. It was too soon to see him again, when she was still barely keeping afloat the wreckage of their last encounter.

And if—when—she told Tamlin, he would almost certainly take issue with Feyre and Rhysand having any kind of relationship, no matter how platonic. In the long run, it was better to keep him at arm's length. Wasn’t it?

“I have my first midwife appointment tomorrow,” Feyre said, because she thought that might appease Alis enough to let this go. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Alis beamed and squeezed Feyre’s shoulder, hard enough that Feyre had to swallow a yelp, but that was Alis—unrestrained and a little heavy-handed, even in her affection. “I would love that.”

Feyre forced a smile. She’d never liked going to the doctors, and in truth simply making the appointment had been a nerve-wracking experience. There was no bump on her stomach yet, and besides the morning bouts of nausea and the wearing exhaustion, she could almost pretend she was the same Feyre she’d been eight weeks ago.

But an appointment made it real.

Bearing all of that to Alis felt impossible. She wished she could do this alone, so that no one would feel burdened by the weight she was carrying, heavier and heavier each day.

“You know,” Alis said, tone a little too casual. “They might want to know about the baby’s father tomorrow—his medical history, what his involvement will look like. It might be worth reaching out to him to make sure you have those details.”

Fuck.

“Right. Thanks for reminding me. I’ll, uh, try to call him later.”

Alis took enough pity to leave Feyre alone after that. But her words lingered, and Feyre spent the next hour staring blankly at Rhysand’s phone number, the sequence of numbers now so familiar she might have been able to recite them from memory. When she finally willed her thumbs to move, they tapped the letters out slowly, every word foreign. She repeated each sentence back, deleting the one that sounded awkward or clumsy or too inviting.

Hey, she eventually settled with. This is Feyre. I’m having an art show tonight at Brush and Chisel. 8 pm. Would you and Mor like to come?

Feyre hit send before she could think about how absurd it would be to have Rhys and Tamlin in the same room. But there was no taking it back. The message was read almost immediately, and Feyre’s panic set in when a small typing bubble popped up with little hesitation.

Rhysand: Sounds wonderful. We’ll be there.

Feyre: Please don’t say anything to Tamlin about… you know

Rhysand: He doesn’t know?

Feyre: Do you want me to revoke your invitation?

Rhysand: No need—my lips are sealed. Looking forward to seeing you again, Feyre darling.

Feyre: No calling me that, either.

Rhysand: No? What would you like me to call you, then?

It was close enough to the flirting they’d exchanged at Rita’s that Feyre thought he was doing it on purpose. Maybe he was trying to wind her up by forcing her to recall the different things he’d called her that night. Feyre darling… Baby… Good girl. The memory of them was making her cheeks feel warm, a sign she might have made a terrible mistake inviting him.

Feyre: Just call me Feyre.

Rhysand: Is that what your friends call you?

Feyre: I wouldn’t say we’re friends yet.

Rhysand: Well in that case, would you prefer I call you something more formal? Miss Archeron?

Feyre: Feyre is fine.

Rhysand: That she most certainly is.

Feyre groaned and resisted the urge to chuck her phone away. This was the man that Mor vouched for as a really good guy? One who couldn’t even control himself for five minutes?

Feyre: If you can’t behave yourself tonight, then I don’t want you there.

Rhysand: I assure you, I will be on my best behavior.

Somehow, that wasn’t very reassuring to her.

“Are you feeling nervous, Feyre?”

“Hmm?”

Feyre drew her eyes away from the double glass doors that comprised the venue’s entrance. She’d been staring absently at their reflection, but realized that Tamlin was leaning into her, his hand positioned supportively against her back—his touch was searing now that she was aware of it, though she couldn’t say how long it had been placed there.

He smiled, as though her response were answer enough. “I think it’s normal to be nervous. This is a lot more people looking at your art than you’re used to.”

That wasn’t empirically true. Outside of her instagram account—which had enough traction to keep her regularly commissioned—Feyre displayed her art fairly regularly in street art shows on the Rainbow. This was her first time displaying her art in a proper gallery, however, and perhaps two months ago she would have been nervous.

Presently, Feyre’s bandwidth on things to be nervous about was running low. There were only so many fears that could plague her mind at any given time, and occupying most of that real estate was the itty-bitty issue of her pregnancy and the baby daddy she’d so stupidly invited to the art show.

By comparison, what Tamlin’s business associates thought of her art was of trivial concern, particularly when they didn't even bother to speak to her. It was clear, by the firm handshakes and tactical segues into business deals, that most of the people in attendance were here to impress Tamlin.

“But hey,” Tamlin said, gliding his hand across her back until she was completely folded into his arm. “Hart was just telling me how much he loved that mountain piece. I think he might make an offer.”

Before she’d tuned out of the conversation, Hart had also been telling Tamlin how keen he was to get his investment proposal signed off. Conveniently, the mountain piece was also the only one in eyesight, and Feyre felt more like a corporate gift basket than a respectable artist.

Feyre didn’t say that, though. She smiled and said, “I love that piece.”

Tamlin hummed, as if he agreed. “Why don’t we go get a drink to calm your nerves?”

“Oh, no. I’m okay—”

“Come on, we’re celebrating!” Tamlin used his arm to urge her forward, guiding them both towards the open bar near the front entrance.

The bar was strategically placed, Tamlin claimed, because people were more likely to make impulsive purchases with a drink in their hand. Feyre couldn’t fault his logic, though she’d prefer for her art to be sold of its own merit and not because the buyer was drunk and trying to impress his boss.

“Really Tamlin. I’m not in the mood to drink.”

“You’re so tense, Feyre. A drink will help.”

Across the room, Feyre met eyes with Alis, who quirked a black brow when she saw where the two of them were headed. She took a step towards them, then stalled, and Feyre thought for a horrific moment that Alis was going to let her get buried alive in this hole she’d dug herself.

“Feyre!” Squealed a familiar voice.

Mor didn’t wait for Tamlin to step out of the way before she became a blur of red and gold, barreling towards her Feyre as if this was the first time they were reuniting in years.

She was squeezing so tight that Feyre’s responding, hi Mor, came out a little breathless.

“Mor,” Tamlin said. He’d taken a step away, either to give them space to reconnect or simply because he didn’t want to risk brushing arms with Mor. “Good to see you again.”

“Tamlin.”

Mor, by virtue of being her college roommate, was once privy to every fight and minor frustration between Feyre and Tamlin. As a result, she never tried to hide her dislike of Tamlin, nor did he give much effort to do the same in return. A polite cough behind Mor’s back prompted the tall blonde to peel herself away from Feyre and pivot to reveal Rhysand, who was withdrawing his hands from the pockets of his formal black trousers to extend one of them outward. Towards her.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“This is my cousin,” Mor filled in, brown eyes twinkling. “Rhys.”

Tamlin chose that moment to turn to the bar and order two double vodka tonics. Feyre wasn’t sure which struck her with greater panic—how to evade drinking without raising Tamlin’s suspicion, or how to shake Rhysand’s hand without feeling like her whole world was shaking with it.

“Feyre,” she said. Her tongue felt like sandpaper. “It’s good to meet you, too. Thank you for coming.”

Rhys continued holding her hand a beat too long. “Thank you for inviting us. I’ve heard you’re a very talented artist.”

Drinks now in hand, Tamlin shouldered himself back into the conversation, pointedly holding a glass towards Feyre so that she was forced to let go of Rhysand’s hand. She accepted the drink with an exaggerated smile.

“Tamlin,” he said gruffly to Rhys, not extending a hand. He slid a possessive arm around Feyre’s shoulders—a statement that none of them misunderstood. “Feyre’s boyfriend.”

“Well met,” Rhys said cordially. If he was intimidated by Tamlin’s slow and evidently unimpressed assessment, he did an excellent job at hiding it.

Seeing it was her job to play mediator and hostess, Feyre saw her chance to kill two birds with one stone. “Can I get the two of you a drink?”

Mor’s answer was an immediate chirp of, “Wine, please.”

“She means a bottle,” Rhysand clarified.

Feyre laughed. “Oh, I remember. We’ll start with a glass for now, but I assure you there’s plenty more where that came from. What about you… Rhys?”

It was only his name, she told herself. Why did speaking it feel so intimate? She could still feel its shape on her lips from when she’d panted it into his skin, RhysRhysRhys—

Did he remember it too? Is that why he studied her for a moment, eyes turning a shade darker, before he cleared his throat and said, “I’m the designated driver, so it’s going to be sparkling water for me.” He glanced down at the vodka in her hands. “But do me a favor and ask them to put a lime wedge in it? I like to blend in.”

“Sure,” Feyre said, taking a step towards the bar. This was her chance to untangle herself from Tamlin and trade out her vodka for a sparkling water, too.

Or—that was the plan. Until Tamlin decided to follow, grabbing her elbow and seizing the opportunity to whisper in her ear, “He gives me a bad vibe.”

“You just met him,” she whispered back, irritated and not trying to hide it.

“I work in business,” he deflected. “You get good at reading people quickly.”

Feyre resisted the urge to roll her eyes as they came up to the bar. She repeated Rhys and Mor’s orders, noting with frustration that when the drinks were finished, Tamlin was the one who insisted on carrying Rhysand’s. She reminded herself that his fears weren’t unfounded—she had slept with Rhys after all, and she couldn’t deny that there was chemistry between them, even now.

Fortunately Rhys was unruffled, and he accepted the drink from Tamlin with a gracious thank you that really sounded like I’m the bigger man and I know it. Tamlin’s posture went rigid, and Rhys’s lips quirked, all smug satisfaction for getting under her boyfriend’s skin. Gods, what had she been thinking putting them in the same room together?

“Tam!” Lucien called, turning away from a small group of Spring Corp executives midway across the room. He made a gesturing motion with his hand. “Come here, Andras just came up with a brilliant new pitch for the Hybern deal.”

Tamlin pressed his lips together, surveying his present company like he didn’t trust leaving Feyre alone with them. And yet, he decided that was preferable to dragging Feyre along to whatever ad hoc business meeting was taking place at her art show.

“I’ll be just one moment,” he said, pressing a kiss to Feyre’s temple before he joined the group of well dressed men. The reprieve from his surveillance was short lived, however, given that he positioned himself at just the right angle to keep Rhys and Mor in his periphery.

It would have been less mortifying if she didn’t glance over to Rhys and see the way his smile flattened, having observed the same.

“He seems charming,” Rhys said.

“He…” Feyre struggled for an explanation that could possibly justify his behavior. “He’s just a little stressed. He really wants tonight to go well.”

“Funny,” Rhys said, leaning his shoulder closer. She found herself leaning in too, nervous he was about to say something she didn’t want anyone to overhear. “I would think that at an art exhibit, the artist would be the one worried about the night going well.”

“I…” Feyre didn’t know what to say. “I do want tonight to go well.”

Rhys raised his hand, fingers brushing over her white-knuckle grip on the vodka tonic. Heat jolted through her, and she resisted the urge to snap her hand back. Any sudden movement would surely draw Tamlin’s attention.

He pitched his voice into a whisper. “How do you feel it’s going so far?”

That was when his hand slid around the glass, gently easing it from her grip. And before she could summon any protest, or speculate as to why he’d decided to pry her drink away, he smoothly pressed his sparkling water into her vacant palm.

It all happened in the space of a second. Feyre was blinking, still processing what had happened, as Rhys leaned back and took a sip of the vodka tonic with a remarkably straight face. Between the lime wedge and the small, carbonated bubbles, their drinks looked identical. He winked, and she knew that he’d planned it this way. From the moment he’d overheard Tamlin’s order.

Feyre could have slumped in relief, were she not hyper-aware of the jade green eyes on her not ten feet away. She ducked her face into the glass of sparkling water to hide the laughter threatening to burst from her lips—it was the first genuine smile she’d managed all evening. All week, really.

“It’s starting to look up,” she said, once she managed to regain her composure.

She meant it, too, though she wasn’t quite ready to unpack the implications of that. Was she a horrible person, inviting him here? The list of things she was lying to Tamlin about was beginning to feel ever-growing. Insurmountable. Her mood quickly soured as she glanced down at the glass in her hand and realized it was just another deception. Someone had come to bail her out this time, but how long could she keep digging this hole until it buried her alive?

“Good,” Rhys said.

His eyes were dancing with a mirth that didn’t feel touchable any longer. Even if his grin was the infectious, wicked sort. The kind that could persuade a saint to deal with the devil. His gaze flicked over her shoulder, skimming the pieces on the back wall.

He jerked his chin towards the displays. “Which one’s your favorite?”

Feyre turned to consider them, though she already knew the answer. “Guess.”

A challenge. One he looked delighted to accept. As a group, the three of them drifted closer towards the art so that Rhys could study each of them with the intensity of a student expecting to be quizzed on their meaning.

Tamlin didn’t return until they reached the final piece. His expression was tight, though Feyre couldn't tell if that was the result of the conversation with his colleagues, or the fact that Feyre had wandered outside his line of vision. Knowing her boyfriend, it was likely the latter.

“What have I missed?” He asked.

“We’re trying to guess Feyre’s favorite piece.”

It was Mor who answered him, given that her cousin was far too busy studying the landscape before him—a hazy clearing of snow and skeletal trees and nothing else besides a curious pair of wolf-like eyes watching from the shadows.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Tamlin said, pointing two pieces down to a hand scooping incandescent water from a pond. The one she’d titled The Pool of Starlight. “That one’s her favorite.”

Feyre elbowed him for ruining the game. She might have done so more gently, if he’d actually guessed correctly. Tamlin offered her an exasperated look that said, What did I do wrong this time? Her tongue burned with the urge to correct him, but she said nothing, suffering the glance Mor and Rhys exchanged with each other. A shared disappointment of a game ruined, and something more. Something that left embarrassment itching up her neck.

Rhys glanced towards her alleged favorite painting and nodded good naturedly. “I understand why. It’s a beautiful painting, Feyre.”

Again, Tamlin’s arm fell over her shoulders. And he said, “That one’s not for sale.”

“Tam.”

He ignored her, continuing, “Feyre painted it as a gift for our four year anniversary.”

Mor muttered under breath, “Four years my ass.”

Tamlin narrowed his eyes. “Pardon?”

The whole room quieted for a stagnant beat, as Mor contemplated her response. Feyre widened her eyes, trying to silently plead with Mor to let it go. It didn’t matter that in those four years, they’d spent as much time broken up as they had in a relationship. What mattered was surviving the night, the week, the year ahead.

Mor tipped her chin, and as her red lips curled into a flat smirk, Feyre felt her stomach plummet.

“I said—”

A waitress stepped towards them, brandishing a platter full of mini quiches in offering. She was staring at Rhys, expectant. As if he’d been the one to call her over. He offered her a broad smile as he plucked one from the tray and promptly handed it to Mor.

Then he innocently looked towards Feyre and Tamlin. “Quiche?”

The smell of cooked eggs and salmon invaded her senses as the waitress swiveled the tray towards them. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and Feyre tried her best to swallow it as she politely shook her head.

“No thanks,” Tamlin said, his voice flat.

The waitress stepped away, wafting the smell under Feyre’s nose a second time. Nausea lurched violently in her stomach, refusing to be ignored.

Even Tam noticed the look on her face. He leaned towards her with a frown, pressing his palm into her shoulder. “Fey? Are you alright?”

Feyre feared that if she tried to speak, her stomach would upheave itself right then and there. She pressed a hand to her mouth, shaking her head before she turned and dashed for the bathroom.

The gallery became a blur of color and ambient sound. She thought she might have heard her name being called. Guests lobbed curious glances towards her as she brushed past, heels clinking urgently against the smooth concrete. The bathroom door swung open beneath her palms, and she didn’t spare the time to lock it before her knees slammed to the floor in front of the toilet.

She hated this. The puking. The way her eyes watered and her body trembled and the sounds of her retching bounced endlessly off the walls. If anyone was waiting outside, they’d doubtlessly hear it.

Feyre panted as the first wave subsided. She knew that wasn’t the end, could already feel her stomach turning in preparation for the next unforgiving torrent of nausea. Was this how it felt to be at sea, so lost and unsteady, with nothing to anchor her besides the cool press of the filthy bathroom floor?

She hunched as the next onslaught began, grasping onto the porcelain bowl, already imagining the bath she was going to take in disinfectant once she got home. Over the stomach-curdling noise, she heard the bathroom door creak open.

Feyre’s hair was pulled away from her face a moment later.

“It’s okay,” Mor soothed. “I’ve got you.”

She traced a delicate hand along Feyre’s spine, up and down. Feyre shut her eyes as she heaved into the toilet, grateful that it was Mor who had come, and not Tamlin. Or worse—Rhysand.

“It’s like we’re in college again,” Mor teased.

Feyre felt too wrung out to laugh. But when the nausea finally ebbed, she managed a shaky smile over her shoulder. “Usually I was holding your hair back.”

“Glad I get to return the favor.”

The memory ached. Three years wasn’t a long time, comparatively, but the Feyre who’d once sat drunk and giggling in public restrooms with Mor felt like a completely different person to the one she was now. It was more than time that separated them—more than motherhood, too. Back then, she had been so carefree, so full of light. And now…

She was trembling like a newly born fawn trying to rise to her feet. Mor slid a supportive hand beneath her elbow, her other hand still holding Feyre’s hair away from her face as they shuffled towards the sink.

Everything that was once simple now felt like a million steps. Twist the faucet. Pump the soap. Lather her hands… Over her shoulder, Mor watched it all with a pinched expression. She didn’t need to say anything; Feyre could still hear Alis in the back of her mind. I’m worried about you, Feyre.

Noticing she’d been caught, Mor took to coyly searching through her clutch, murmuring, “I think I have a pack of gum somewhere…”

The tap stopped running. Feyre stared at her friend in the mirror, how her blonde brows pinched together as she feigned an intensive search. And then Feyre looked at her own reflection. At her wide eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. And she finally admitted the truth to Mor, to herself.

“I’m scared.”

Mor’s mouth popped open. “Oh, Feyre,” she whispered, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

A great, gasping breath shuddered through Feyre, the final resistance before her foundation cracked, and every wall crumbled to dust. The next thing she knew, she was sobbing into her friend’s shoulder while Mor held tight, the only thing keeping her tethered.

Now that she’d let the words loose, she couldn’t stop. “I’m going to be a mom.”

“You are,” Mor whispered, swaying them back and forth. “You’re going to be a great one.”

“I don't know anything about being a parent.”

“No one does. It’s the kind of thing you learn on the job. And you—Feyre, you have always been exceptional at adapting to everything life throws at you. Even this.”

Her lower lip trembled. The question came tumbling out of her, broken and small. “Did I make the right choice?”

“There was no right choice,” Mor said. “There’s just the choice you made, and the one you didn’t.”

Mor leaned back to swipe her thumb along Feyre’s cheek, chasing away the tear tracks and smeared mascara as best she could.

“Though, you know what I think?” Mor’s brown eyes shined under the fluorescents as she held Feyre’s gaze. “I think that one day, you’re going to look back on this moment, and you’re going to be so happy that you decided to become a mom.”

Feyre sniffled, pressing a palm to her stomach as she attempted to imagine a future Feyre who was confident about this choice. Happy. “And Rhys?” She ventured. “Does he really mean it, about wanting to be involved?”

Mor didn’t hesitate, not for one second. “He does.”

Her eyes drifted towards the door. Tamlin and Rhys would be waiting on the other side. She didn’t know whether to laugh or feel mortified by the thought of the two of them together, stewing in hostile silence. If she was lucky, Tamlin had already dismissed this whole ordeal as female dramatics and was entertaining more of his colleagues without paying any mind to her absence.

Luck wasn’t exactly playing in her favor recently. Feyre’s eyes shifted to the hopper windows on the back wall, contemplating if she could squeeze her body through one. “What do you think my chances are of sneaking out?”

Mor followed Feyre’s gaze and pursed her lips, assessing the windows like she were truly calculating the feasibility of such an escape. “I don’t think those windows open all the way.” Her eyes slid coyly back to Feyre. “So… Tamlin—”

“Don’t start.”

She couldn’t handle another lecture about telling him the truth—not now.

But where Alis clicked her tongue and gave disapproving looks, Mor only laughed and patted Feyre on the shoulder. “Fine, fine. Just let me handle this.”

Mor didn’t give her an option to refuse. Which was just as well, because Feyre would have spent the entire night holed up in the bathroom if Mor didn’t pull her by the wrist.

“Wait!” Feyre dug her heels, trying to slow the too fast approach towards the bathroom door. “My makeup—”

“You look beautiful.”

A lie. Feyre looked like a trainwreck in a pretty dress. Not that Mor gave her time to do anything about it as she pushed the door open and announced to the two men standing on the other side, “Feyre has food poisoning. I’m taking her home.”

“I’ll grab our coats,” Rhys said.

At the same moment, Tamlin said, “I’ll take her home.”

He shifted, trying to peer at Feyre where she stood at Mor’s back, but her friend stepped into Tamlin’s line of vision. Her voice was flat. Unyielding. “You’ve been drinking.”

“So what? I’ll call us a cab.”

Feyre took a deep breath and stepped around Mor. “Tam.” Those bright eyes pinned her in place, seeing far too much. She knew it was obvious that she’d been crying, and his jaw tightened as he processed the lie, and the way she silently begged him not to push. Not yet, not here. “I need someone to stay here and make sure the art show isn’t a complete disaster.”

He contemplated this for a moment, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he looked to Mor, then to Rhys. He released a heavy sigh. “I’ll come by once it’s over.”

It was like standing on a frozen lake and watching it crack beneath them.

“Okay,” she whispered.

They both knew what was coming. It had always been precarious, this thing between them. Never simple, never clean.

Mor looped her elbow through Feyre’s. “Come on,” she urged, rushing them towards the front entrance before Tamlin could change his mind.

The stares of Tamlin’s colleagues followed them as they went. Rhys peeled off to collect their coats, allowing Mor and Feyre to make a swift exit into the liberating embrace of Autumn. The cool breeze pressed against her flushed skin, and Feyre drank it greedily, feeling the air cut a path all the way to her lungs. Finally, she could breathe again.

Rhysand emerged a moment later, two coats hanging off his arm. And Mor chose that moment to look up from her phone and say, “Rhys, you go ahead and take Feyre home. The night’s still young for me.”

“Mor!” Feyre whispered, horrified at the prospect of being alone with him. So much for not meddling.

“What?” She asked innocently, though the look she exchanged with Rhys was nothing short of conspiratorial. “Between my wine and Rhys’s vodka, I have the perfect pre-Rita’s buzz.”

Rhys didn’t seem at all surprised by this news, nor did he seem the least bit phased by the prospect of being alone in a car with Feyre. He simply walked Feyre to his car and opened the passenger door. As she slid into the leather seat, he called to Mor, “Do you want me to at least drop you off?”

“No.” The blue light of her phone lit her grin, and she giggled, looking down at the screen as she said, “I have a ride.”

“Emerie?” Rhys asked, raising a brow.

Mor bit her lip, offering no confirmation one way or the other. With a shrug, Rhys shut the passenger door, leaving Feyre briefly alone in his immaculate car, which smelled vaguely of leather and plastic and… and—him. It had been eight weeks, and Feyre still couldn’t get over the way he smelled.

She took a moment to compose herself, to prepare for being alone with him for the full twenty minute drive to her apartment. Whatever further words he exchanged with Mor, she couldn’t hear. But she could see the way he was smiling, and when he glanced at the car over his shoulder, she had a feeling they were talking about her.

Oh god.

The driver's door opened, suctioning all of the air and replacing it with the site of his obscenely handsome face. “Looks like it’s just the two of us, Feyre darling.”

She was majorly fucked.

#Take My Hand Wreck My Plans #feysand #feysand fic #Feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #Rhys x Feyre #Feyre x Rhys #Rhysand x Feyre #Feyre x Rhysand

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 5 months

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Queer Books November 2023

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ The Pirate and the Porcelain Girl by Emily Riesbeck 🧡 Heading North by Holly M. Wendt 💛 The Wisdom of Bug by Alyson Root 💚 Trick Shot by Kayla Grosse 💙 A Holly Jolly Christmas by Emily Wright 💜 Outdrawn by Deanna Grey ❤️ Yours Celestially by Al Hess 🧡 The Christmas Memory by Barbara Winkes 💛 Violet Moon by Mel E. Lemon 💙 The Santa Pageant by Lillian Barry 💜 Only for the Holidays by Shannon O’Connor 🌈 Homestead for the Holidays by Wren Taylor

❤️ You Can Count on Me by Fae Quin 🧡 No One Left But You by Tash McAdam 💛 The Worst Thing of All is the Light by José Luis Serrano, Lawrence Schimel 💚 Today Tonight Forever by Madeline Kay Sneed 💙 Wren Martin Ruins It All by Amanda DeWitt 💜 Emmett by L. C. Rosen ❤️ Finding My Elf by David Valdes 🧡 Tonight, I Burn by Katharine J. Adams 💛 Gorgeous Gruesome Faces by Linda Cheng 💙 Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree 💜 A Power Unbound by Freya Marske 🌈 We Are the Crisis by Cadwell Turnbull

❤️ The Manor House Governess by C.A. Castle 🧡 You Owe Me One, Universe by Chad Lucas 💛 Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen by Sarah James 💚 Skip!: A Graphic Novel by Rebecca Burgess 💙 Something About Her by Clementine Taylor 💜 Touching the Art by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore ❤️ A Nearby Country Called Love by Salar Abdoh 🧡 Normporn: Queer Viewers and the TV That Soothes Us by Karen Tongson 💛 Sir Callie and the Dragon’s Roost by Esme Symes-Smith 💙 The Order of the Banshee by Robyn Singer 💜 Once Upon My Dads’ Divorce by Seamus Kirst, Noémie Gionet Landry 🌈 Forsooth by Jimmy Matejek-Morris

❤️ A Common Bond by T.M. Kuta 🧡 Risk the Fall by Riley Hart 💛 Just a Little Snack by Yah-Yah Scholfield 💚 Home for the Holidays by Erin Zak 💙 NeurodiVeRse by MJ James 💜 Dark Heir (Dark Rise #2) by C.S. Pacat ❤️ sub/Dom by Rab Green 🧡 Bitten by the Bond by Elaine White 💛 Heir to Frost and Storm by Ben Alderson 💙 The Sea of Stars by Gwenhyver 💜 Bad Beat by L.M. Bennett 🌈 Idol Moves by K.T. Salvo

❤️ Plot Twist by Erin La Rosa 🧡 In the Pines by Mariah Stillbrook 💛 The Crimson Fortress (The Ivory Key #2) by Akshaya Raman 💚 Only She Came Back by Margot Harrison 💙 Megumi & Tsugumi, Vol. 4 by Mitsuru Si 💜 Pritty by Keith F. Miller Jr. ❤️ Just Lizzie by Karen Wilfrid 🧡 An Atlas to Forever by Krystina Rivers 💛 Come Find Me in the Midnight Sun by Bailey Bridgewater 💙 Bait and Witch by Clifford Mae Henderson 💜 Shadow Baron by Davinia Evans 🌈 Day by Michael Cunningham

❤️ Livingston Girls by Briana Morgan 🧡 Delay of the Game by Ari Baran 💛 The Nanny with the Nice List by K. Sterling 💚 A Talent Ignited by Suzanne Lenoir 💙 A Kiss of the Siren’s Song by E.A.M. Trofimenkoff 💜 Rivals for Love by Ali Vali ❤️ Whiskey & Wine by Kelly Fireside, Tana Fireside 🧡 Buried Secrets by Sheri Lewis Wohl 💛 Ride with Me by Jenna Jarvis 💙 Living for You by Jenny Frame 💜 Death on the Water by CJ Birch 🌈 Merciless Waters by Rae Knowles

❤️ Vicarious by Chloe Spencer 🧡 Sapling’s Depths by Spencer Rose 💛 That French Summer by Sienna Waters 💚 System Overload by Saxon James 💙 King of Death by Lily Mayne 💜 Warts and All by Ashley Bennett ❤️ Principle Decisions by Thea Belmont 🧡 The Best Mistake by Emily O’Beirne 💛 Sugar and Ice by Eule Grey 💙 Until The Blood Runs Dry by MC Johnson 💜 Splinter : A Diverse Sleepy Hollow Retelling by Jasper Hyde 🌈 The Mischievous Letters of the Marquise de Q by Felicia Davin

❤️ The Queer Girl is Going to be Okay by Dale Walls 🧡 Til Death Do Us Bard by Rose Black 💛 Leverage by E.J. Noyes 💚 Alice Sadie Celine by Sarah Blakley-Cartwright 💙 Godly Heathens by H.E. Edgmon 💜 Gwen & Art Are Not in Love by Lex Croucher ❤️ To Kill a Shadow by Katherine Quinn 🧡 Warrior of the Wind by Suyi Davies Okungbowa 💛 For Never & Always by Helena Greer 💙 A Demon’s Guide to Wooing a Witch by Sally Hawley 💜 Heaven Official’s Blessing: Tian Guan Ci Fu Vol. 8 by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù 🌈 A Carol for Karol by Ann Roberts

#book release #queer fiction #queer romance #queer books #queer #books #books to read #queer book recs #book recs #batty about books #battyaboutbooks

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omegaremix · 23 days

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Omega Radio for April 7, 2021; #258.

Black Ivory: “I Keep Asking You Questions”

Sandra Alexandra: “She’ll Break Your Heart”

Chuck Cornish: “Ali Funky Thing”

Piero Umiliani: “Risaie”

Lyman Woodard Organization, The: “Belle Isle Daze Pt. I &II”

Vidulesku: “Echoes”

Airto: “Mae Cambina”

Chocolate Milk: “Let The Music Take Your Mind”

All Points Bulletin: “Funky Bottom Bottom Funk”

Chute Libre: “Canaan Pt. II”

Ricky Lance: “Clown In A Room Of Tears”

Malo: “Suavecito”

Opa: “Pieces”

Edgar Versy: “La Mer”

Elephant’s Memory: “Mongoose”

Willie Bobo: “Kojak” + “Fairy Tales For Two”

Brass Fever: “Djingi”

Terry Callier: “African Violet”

Victor Feldman: “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes”

Alan Feanch: “Atlantide”

Roberta Flack: “Killing Me Softly With His Song”

Adriana: “Contigo”

Juan Demonio: “Es Cana”

Antonia Carlos & Jofari: “Pe De Bode”

Darrow Fletcher: “Rising Cost Of Love”

Enrico Intra: “Nicole”

O’Jays, The: “Give The People What They Want”

Pure Pleasure: “By My Side”

Art Farmer: “Chanson”

Caldera: “Seraphim (Angel)”

Eddie Senay: “Cameo”

Dikalo: “Old Fisherman”

Fabio Fabor: “Ninfee”

Sun Ra: “Lanquidity”

Paul Williams: “Wistful Dreams”

Hubert Laws & Earl Klugh: “It’s So Easy Loving You”

Roy Ayers: “Theme From M*A*S*H” + “Together Forever”

John Abercrombie: “Parable”

Bonus Omega; all vinyl, sampling, crate-digging finds.

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blackswallowtailbutterfly · 10 months

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Plant names that are used as names or might be nice as names

Abelia (Abby, Bibi, Bel, Bee, Lia)

Achillea (feminine of Achilles; Lea)

Aletris (like Alexis or Beatris; Al, Allie, Tris, Trissy)

Alisma (Al, Allie, Lee, Alis, Lissy)

Alliaria (Al, Allie, Lia, Lee, Ria)

Amaranthus (actual name already; Amy, Mara, Anne, Annie)

Ambrosia (actual name already; Amy, Rosie)

Ammophila (Amy, Phil)

Andromeda (actual name already; Anne, Annie, Andy, Mimi)

Angelica (actual name already; Angie)

Anise (Anne, Annie)

Anthea (actual name already; Anne, Annie, Thea)

Apple (actual name already)

Aquilegia (Gigi)

Aralia (Lee, Lia)

Argemone (Gem, Gemmy, Monnie)

Argentina (Gen, Genny, Tina)

Arisaema (Aris)

Aronia (Ro, Nia)

Artemisia (actual name already; Art, Arty, Mimi, Missy)

Ash/Ashley (actual name already)

Aster (like Esther)

Barley (like Bartley)

Betula (Bett, Bettie, Tula)

Bluet (Blue, Bett, Bettie)

Blossom (actual name already)

Calla (Cal, Al, Allie)

Callirhoe (Cal, Al, Allie, Ro)

Caltha (Cal, Al, Allie)

Calystegia (Cal, Al, Aly, Gia)

Carya (actual name already)

Celastrus (like Celeste; Cece, Cela)

Celosia (like Celeste; Cece, Cela)

Celtis

Chelone (Lonnie)

Cherry (actual name already)

Clarkia (Clark, Kia, Kiki)

Claytonia (Clay, Toni)

Clematis (Clem)

Cleome (Cleo, Clem, Mimi)

Clintonia (Clint, Lin, Toni)

Clover (Clo)

Comandra (like Cassandra; Anne, Annie, Andy, Maddie, Mandy)

Commelina (Mel, Lina, Melly, Lin, Lee)

Cotton

Dahlia (like Delia or Thalia)

Daisy (actual name already)

Dale (actual name already)

Dalea (like Delia or Thalia)

Daphne (actual name already)

Datura (Dottie, Tura)

Della (actual name already)

Dianthus (Dia, Dianne, Anne, Annie)

Dicentra

Drosera (Dro, Ro, Sera)

Dryas

Erigenia (Eri, Gigi, Gen, Genny, Genie, Genia, Nia)

Evadne (actual name already; Eve, Evie, Eva)

Fern (actual name already)

Filipendula (Fil, Filly, Flippa, Penn, Penny)

Flower/Fleure/Flora/etc. (actual names already)

Forest (actual name already)

Gale (actual name already)

Ginger (actual name already)

Grindelia (Dede, Delia, Lia)

Halesia (Hal, Hally, Al, Allie)

Hazel (actual name already)

Heather (actual name already)

Holly (actual name already)

Hydrangea (Hydie, Angie, Gigi)

Iris (actual name already)

Isotria (Izzy, Tria)

Juniper (actual name already; June, Junie)

Laurel (actual name already)

Lavender (actual name already; Lav, Vendy)

Leafie (actual name already)

Lemna

Liatris (like Beatris; Li, Lia, Tris, Trissy)

Lilac (like Lilah)

Lily (actual name already)

Linaria (Lin, Linny)

Lindera (Lin, Linny, Lindy)

Linnaea (Lin, Linny)

Lobelia (Lo, Lola, Bel, Lia)

Lonicera (Lon, Lonnie, Cera)

Lotus (actual name already; Lottie)

Lunaria (Lulu, Luna)

Magnolia (Maggie, Nola, Lia)

Malia (actual name already)

Maple (like Maybel; May)

Meadow (actual name already)

Melia (actual name already; Mel, Melly)

Melothria (Mel, Melly)

Mentha (actual name already)

Mertensia (like Mercedes)

Mitchella (feminine of Mitchel; Mimi, Mitch, Chella)

Monarda (Monnie, Mona)

Montia (like Monty; Monnie, Monty, Tia)

Myrtle (actual name already)

Myrica (like Erica)

Nemesia

Nyssa

Oakley (actual name already)

Olive/Olivia/etc. (actual name already)

Pansy (actual name already)

Peach (actual name already)

Peltandra (Pel, Tandy, Andy)

Persicaria (Persi, Kari, Carrie, Caria)

Petunia (actual name already)

Phyllis (actual name already)

Picea

Pilea

Pontederia (Ted, Teddie)

Poppy (actual name already)

Praline (Lina)

Primula (Prima)

Prunella (Nel, Nelly, Nella)

Robinia (Rob, Robby, Bob, Bobby, Robin, Nia)

Rose/Rosa/Rosaria/Rhode/etc. (actual names already)

Rosemary (actual name already)

Salvia (like Silvia; Sally, Vivi)

Sibara

Sida

Silvia/Sylvie/Sylvaine/etc. (actual name already; Vivi)

Tansy (actual name already)

Thuja

Tilia

Valley (Val, Al, Alley)

Vallisneria (Val, Valli, Al, Alli, Allis, Lissy, Neri)

Verbena

Veronica (actual name already)

Violet/Viola/etc. (actual name already; Vi, Vivi)

Willow (actual name already; Will, Willie)

Yarrow

Zea

#long text post #list of names #list

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singingxsun · 2 months

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— 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 !!!

parece que VIOLET WALKER está procurando por algumas de suas conexões perdidas, você as viu por aí? mais informações abaixo do read more!

nota ooc: todas as conexões são válidas para qualquer gênero, independente do pronome usado na descrição. se quiser saber mais sobre a violet antes de escolher uma conexão basta checar a bio dela aqui.

𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓵𝔂

— i. MUSE é o melhor amigo de vi, eles se conectaram muito rápido desde que se conheceram em uma missão, tendo sido responsáveis por salvar a vida um do outro. desde então, eles passaram a fazer várias atividades juntos, a compartilhar segredos e a confiar um no outro com a própria vida, criando um vínculo profundo.

— ii. vi estava morando em nova roma antes do chamado de dionísio, pois tinha começado seus estudos no curso de medicina na universidade de lá. a filha de apolo ficou próxima de MUSE durante a estadia no acampamento romano, onde os dois falavam sobre sua rotina e comentavam sobre a infância e adolescência vivida no acampamento meio-sangue, tornando-se bons amigos.

— iii. MUSE e violet eram crianças art attack e se tornaram adultos que gostam bastante de arts & crafts. eles se juntam para falar de arte (não só de pintura e artes plásticas, todo tipo de arte mesmo) e apreciar produtos artísticos em geral, como peças de teatro, musicais, moda, filmes, esculturas e galerias de arte. também é do costume da dupla se reunir para produzirem eles mesmos peças de sua autoria, violet é particularmente chegada a personalizar jaquetas e peças de roupa.

— iv. embora não tenha interesse nenhum em combate, violet é mais habilidosa com o arco e flecha do que se dá crédito. MUSE está sempre incentivando a loira a treinar mais com o arco e flecha e a encorajando a se tornar uma guerreira mais eficiente, ele é basicamente seu parceiro de treino constante.

— v. um dia MUSE descobriu que violet sabe falar em ASL, algo que a loira aprendeu por necessidade, já que fica sem voz quando utiliza demais seus poderes. os dois se aproximaram pelo interesse em comum em linguagem de sinais, MUSE aprendeu ASL com ela e os dois conversam através de ASL apenas para praticar de vez em quando.

𝓮𝓷𝓶𝓲𝓽𝔂

— vi. MUSE foi uma das vítimas de violet, digo, um dos que recebeu um fora da filha de apolo. ela foi dura, não mediu palavras e não voltou atrás. desde então, ele tem se esforçado para ganhar a atenção da loira de outras maneiras, convencido de que pode fazer ela mudar de ideia ou voltar atrás. no caso, as ações dele tem tido o efeito contrário em vi e, agora, toda vez que vê o rosto desse ilustre morador da coitadolândia, ela quer enfiar uma flecha no meio da testa dele.

— vii. existe uma rivalidade amigável entre vi e MUSE, foi algo que surgiu naturalmente desde que dividiram o mesmo ambiente, uma vez que a loira é mais competitiva do que gostaria de admitir.

𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬

— viii. MUSE não parece intimidado pelos rumores de que violet é uma mulher fria que quebra os corações de todos aqueles que se interessam por ela. na verdade, ele não tem vergonha alguma de demonstrar seu crush na filha de apolo. será que vai terminar em fora? ou será que violet vai dar uma chance? perguntas sem resposta, já que a loira não se dignou a fazer nenhum dos dois até agora e parece se divertir bastante com a situação.

— ix. violet já chegou a ter o início do que seria um relacionamento com MUSE, mas, por cada um ter seu próprio objetivo de vida, logo eles perceberam que não ia dar certo e seguiram como amigos. destalhes específicos a combinar em privado.

— x. existe algo entre vi e MUSE que nenhum dos dois tem coragem de dizer em voz alta, mas certamente está ali. algo na maneira que se olham e na forma que conversam como se ninguém estivesse olhando. todo mundo parece ter visto, menos eles, até porque, em suas próprias palavras, eles são apenas bons amigos.

𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵 & 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓹 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓯𝓲𝓬

— [ para quem está no acampamento há mais ou menos 11 anos ] violet chegou ao acampamento meio-sangue com um GRUPO DE SEMIDEUSES liderado por um sátiro, que sobreviveu a ataques de monstros durante o percurso. todos os feridos foram curados pelos poderes de vi e, desde então, ela e os pertencentes a este grupo compartilham um vínculo de cumplicidade e confiança. detalhes específicos a combinar em privado. [ up to 5 ]

— [ curandeiros ] os trabalhos de todos os grupos existentes no acampamento são essenciais à sua própria maneira, mas acho justo dizer que os curandeiros estão entre os que sofrem mais que jesus. são eles que cuidam dos feridos em batalha, se esforçando ao máximo para que todos se recuperem independente de suas questões pessoais e, quando um semideus morre sob seus cuidados, também são eles os primeiros a saber e a ter que dar a notícia ao resto do acampamento. não é uma tarefa fácil, mas é o que violet mais ama fazer, é seu chamado pessoal e ela tem um vínculo especial não só com o seu cargo dentro da equipe, mas com todos os membros do grupo. detalhes específicos a combinar em privado.

— [ aprendiz de curandeiro ou interessado em medicina ] desde que chegou ao acampamento, violet vive na enfermaria e não foi surpresa para ninguém quando ela se tornou uma curandeira. MUSE tem muito interesse em medicina e vê na filha de apolo uma veterana experiente, por isso, passou a pedir dicas a ela quando os dois tem um tempo livre. [ up to 2 ]

— [ caçadoras de ártemis ] violet já demonstrou interesse em entrar para a caçada no passado, por ter uma grande admiração particular pela irmã de seu pai, contudo, na época, decidiu que não estava pronta para se juntar ao grupo. talvez nunca estivesse. contudo, já faz um tempo desde a última vez que as caçadoras fizeram uma visita ao acampamento, talvez seja uma boa oportunidade para refazer o convite ou, pelo menos, ajudá-la a reconsiderar seu posicionamento.

— [ filhos de apolo ] um fato peculiar sobre violet é que ela ama implicar com os inquilinos do chalé de apolo, é muito comum que ela diga que seus irmãos são exibidos e desumildes, mas todo mundo sabe que é da boca pra fora, no fundo, ela ama muito todos eles, pois são o mais próximo de uma família que ela tem. podemos combinar todo tipo de ralação de irmãos.

#vi tags: connections.

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sissytobitch10seconds · 5 months

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Empire of Dirt

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows Summary: Kaz Brekker refused to take his father's name when his mother married, as well as the name of his husband. Wylan Van Eck wants to focus on his art despite his new marriage being more than he bargained for. Nina Zenik is fed up of carriages and pearls, but her new fiance obviously isn't. Matthias Helvar was expecting a pretty Russian princess and instead was given a woman that rocks his world. Jesper Fahey may be running from his own pain, but he can help others face it. Inej Ghafa wants her family and out of her cage. Warnings: Canon-typical violence, murder attempts, skip-able sexual content, implied rape/non-con, and child abuse Word Count: ~230k (Chapter 1: 5,903) Chapters: 39 Ship(s): Kaz Brekker/Wylan Van Eck/Jesper Fahey/Inej Ghafa/Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik

Archive link!

A/N: TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of ableism, unhealthy parental relationships, and canon-typical child abuse.

Wylan knew that something was wrong when his father came to visit him personally. It wasn’t like they were the type of family that he heard stories about coming from the Dame Hansen’s daughter, where they never saw each other outside of banquets, but it was still a rare occasion. Jan had other things to do that busied up his time, including doting his terribly young wife. Wylan himself was busy with his studies and trying to avoid his tutors like his life depended on it.

He had been sequestered away in his room while trying to work on his writing when the knock came. Wylan’s room was on the other side of their large estate from Alys’ and his father’s rooms were. It had the same dark cherry parquet wood on the floor that matched the rest of the house, though Wylan would have preferred something like ash or oak because of the lighter grain. The wallpaper was a violet color with little pink blossoms in tidy rows making up a pattern that he had counted on the nights when the pain on his back or thighs was too much to let him sleep. There was a door on the wall kitty corner to the one that the hallway connected to that led to his personal bathroom and closet, which were very similar in their style to the bedroom itself. His bed held a couple of down pillows and a thick winter quilt that his mother had sewed herself before she had been sent away to their summer estate to stop making the new wife uncomfortable. His most treasured possessions were the ones squirreled away in the cedar chest pressed against the edge of the bed, though he pretended that he preferred the ones he had laid out on the shelves overflowing with books that he would never be able to read.

Near the hearth that lay on the wall that connected to the hallway was a seating area with a couch and two comfortable chairs, both of them matching the color of the drapes and the rug that they pinned down. Across from that, there were three ornate windows filled with stained and clear glass with a desk that had everything he needed to study on it, which was where he currently was.

The light was pouring down over the paper and casting little rainbows against the grain of the shiny wood. It was a welcome distraction to the headache that was beginning to bloom behind his eyes as he tried to get the words on the page to stay in the same place for long enough to read them.

He had turned when the knock sounded, waiting for the servant to enter, do whatever business they had, and then leave. When no one came in, he figured that it had to be someone of an actual standing that had to respect him at least a small bit. No one in his home respected him because they knew what his parents thought of him and what his tutors had done to him. The fact that he still had a tutor was a great shame that the Van Eck family was trying desperately to hide.

He tried to fight back the lump in his throat when he realized that Master Lukas could have come back earlier than expected and called, “You may enter.”

Wylan felt his heart stop and then resume beating, only when it started again it was far faster than it had been before. “Father,” he greeted as he pushed up from his desk to face the other man.

Jan Van Eck was an imposing man even to those that were taller than him. He had a regular stature and build compared to the rest of the nobles that had been born into their wealth as they had. It was the ego and presence that took up a room and could make fully grown men with higher status quiet down to listen. He shared Wylan’s red hair, though the son’s was dimmer and closer to brown. He was wearing a finely pressed white shirt with a pair of breezy, fine cotton pants in the red of their family crest.

“Wylan, how are your studies going?” he asked, the first question that he was always asked. Usually in public, Wylan would be expected to make up some kind of answer concerning college or advanced arithmetic so it would seem like he wasn’t quite the failure that he actually was. When they were in the safety of their own home with only their family and staff, his shame was expected to be on full display.

He glanced back down the papers that he had been trying to decipher. Shame burned on his cheeks as he choked out his answer, “Not well, Father. I’m sure that Master Lukas has already visited you today to tell you of my failures.” His skin ached and hurt where he had been struck when he had made a mistake, making himself and his tutor look foolish.

Master Lukas had been brought in from abroad in Belgium because he had been known to work miracles, but Wylan was beginning to think that he just lived with the family of the child that he was supposed to be tutoring long enough that he could blackmail them into saying good things about him. He had certainly never actually tried to help Wylan in a way that none of the other tutors had tried. His beatings weren’t even new or inventive.

Jan chuckled and sat down at Wylan’s desk. It was clear that the power balance had changed at that. Despite the fact that this was supposed to be his personal chamber, his father was always in control when he did something like that. Wylan had gotten very good at recognizing those kinds of messages from people because it could often mean his health and safety if he read it wrong.

“Master Lukas actually had good things to say about you today,” Jan replied as he idly played with some of the things that were spread out over his son’s space. “He told me that you’re picking up the Russian he’s been teaching you very well.”

It took a good deal of self-restraint to not roll his eyes. Wylan almost felt like he was learning it from the servants or teaching it to himself despite his illiteracy. They had quite a few people working with them from Russia, mostly because that country had been taking over the neighboring territories which forced a lot of people to flee if they didn’t want to conform to the new government and way of life. Those people were kind enough to him even if they kept in their own circles, but it was still far better than dealing with the German servants.

“I’m glad that he’s pleased with my progress,” Wylan said instead of pitching the fit that he wanted to. “What did you come to speak with me about, Father?”

“Straight to the point. You may make a nobleman yet,” Jan chuckled.

Wylan knew that wasn’t going to happen no matter what the man that had sired him said. After Alys had been raised up in the ranks of the spouses that Jan had taken, it was clear that any child she had would come in the line of succession above Wylan. It was an outdated system and not one that he agreed with, but no one had asked him, so his opinion meant literally nothing. “Thank you, Father,” he replied curtly. He just wanted it to be over already.

Jan shuffled a bit where he was sitting at the desk. It made a shock of fear rush through Wylan as he realized that his father was uncomfortable with something. Jan had been raised as a nobleman, just as Wylan should have been and was until it was discovered that he couldn’t read. The elder Van Eck was so good at controlling his emotions, as every noble had to be, that Wylan had been a little shocked to see anything genuine from him. The man cleared his throat and then said, “I just wanted to inform you that I have found you a spouse.”

“A spouse?” Wylan asked, feeling his stomach sink low. It was uncommon for someone his age that was also from a noble family to be without a married partner, but somehow he still hadn’t quite been expecting it. He was the great shame of his family so he had assumed that until he finally riddled out his little problem, he would be kept locked away and unmarried.

“Yes, a spouse,” Jan huffed and nodded. “It’s about time that you got married and I found someone of the same social standing as you. He’s the second in line for his father’s rather large trading and property company as well as a local lord. Not quite the marquis that we are, but good nonetheless. The boy is around the same age as you so it’s not like your mother will have to worry.”

Wylan bit at the insides of his cheeks to resist the urge to shout back at his father. Jan had married Marya in an arranged marriage, as people of their social standing often did, but he had never even pretended to care about her the way that the other noblemen did their wives. He pretended to love Alys because she was the second wife that he had taken and he wanted to give people a reason to think that she had been moved up to the first wife status that wasn’t his defective son, but he didn’t care about her either.

As much as he didn’t like the idea that he was just another asset that his father could shuffle around as he pleased, he didn’t want to risk being married off to a woman. He had told his mother that he was only interested in being with men when he was fourteen and there had already been so much weighing on his mind. As much as Jan didn’t want to admit it, Wylan knew that his father had gone to Marya to get advice on who to marry him off to. He was grateful that his mother had advised Jan to pick a man instead of a woman, even if he would eventually have to take a wife so that he could produce some kind of heir. Though it was probably less of a problem given the fact that he was second to inherit after the child that Alys was pregnant with. Even if that child resulted in a girl, then any son that she bore would be above Wylan.

“Thank you, Father. When am I to be married?” he asked. He walked up to the edge of his desk to try and crowd his father out of his room so that he could have his space back to himself. So many emotions were brewing in the forefront of his head and the pit of his stomach that he knew he was going to have to take several hours to unravel them before he even began to process what they were.

“The Rollins family are going to be arriving here in the next couple of days. You’re going to marry the oldest boy, I don’t recall his name. I want you to make sure that you are on your best behavior when you meet him so that the he doesn’t persuade his father to dissolve the betrothal,” Jan informed him instead of answering the question.

Something like that had happened in England with the brat of a prince that was set to inherit the throne, the first time that it had happened in such a public life. Ever since his parents had given in, every noble was scared of it now. Wylan doubted that he would be able to get away with something like that, or anyone in Germany for that matter.

“I’ll be as kind to him as I can be,” Wylan gave the platitude as easily as water ran off a duck’s back. It had been a long time since someone had visited their home or he had been taken out to visit other nobles where he was chastised to behave himself. He had never really been prone to misbehaving when he was a child, but sometimes he spoke without thinking about it first. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

Jan stood up from Wylan’s chair and moved towards the door. Before he grasped the handle he turned and said, “For now, yes. When the Rollins get here we’ll discuss more details about the when and wheres of the wedding.”

“Of course,” he nodded the acknowledgement. He remained standing in front of his desk, turning his body so that he was facing towards his father and never giving him a second to attack. Jan walked to the door and shut it snugly behind him, trapping Wylan in the gilded cage that he had grown up in.

The boy sank down into the chair that his father had been occupying moments before. He had felt more like a man than he ever had in his life as he began to make scraping, tiny bits of progress forward in his studies but now he felt more scared and unsure of his place in the world than he had in a long time.

So much was going to change when he got married. He was of a higher standing than the man he was going to be wed to, so it wasn’t likely that he would have to move out of one of the estates that his father owned. Briefly, he hoped that he would be sent to the summer home that his mother was living at. It was possible that he was such a disgrace that he and his future husband would instead be moved to the other man’s lands, hidden away from any connection that Wylan could have to the rest of the Van Eck household. Given that him being seen as the lesser man in the marriage when he was the one that had more power would be even more of a slap of the face to his family name than people finding out that he was illiterate, he didn’t think that it was likely.

It wasn’t common for nobles to sleep in the same beds as each other outside of the wedding night, thankfully. He wasn’t sure that he was going to get along with his future husband, but if they never had to spend any time together then it didn’t really matter. He did wonder if his father had mentioned the fact that he couldn’t read to the other nobleman when they were working out the details of the marriage, and if he had what that would mean when Wylan met the man he was engaged to.

He was both scared and excited for what the future was holding for him, energy rushing through his body and leaving him exhausted all at once. He felt conflicted over the idea of his father making decisions about his life without having consulting him in the slightest, but he knew that was pretty standard when it came to living the life of a noble. He was scared for what his marriage was going to turn out to be, if his spouse was going to be anything like Alys or if he would end up in the kind of marriage that his mother had been in. He didn’t think that he would mind becoming the second husband or spouse like his mother had, but he didn’t want to spend the late winter evenings weeping or mourning what could have been.

Wylan placed his head down into his hands and blew out a steady breath. He scrubbed at his face to try and rid himself of the anxious thoughts that were gnawing a hole through his stomach. He stood and walked to his bed before he collapsed, deciding that a nap was the best thing for him in that moment.

---

Just as his father had said, the family that had set up the other half of the betrothal arrived three days after Jan had informed him that he was going to be getting married. They must have packed all of their things and gotten ready for their journey as soon as they sent the runner with the letter to the Van Eck estate for them to arrive that quickly. That or Jan had just forgotten to inform Wylan about one of the most important things that would be happening to him in his entire life, which he was slightly more inclined to believe.

Wylan had woken early in the morning when one of the servants bustled into the room to inform him of what had happened. Apparently a quick horse had been sent in front of the family to tell Jan that they were approaching and they had arrived late that night. The family of the man that Wylan was going to have to spend the rest of his life with had been sleeping under the same roof as him and he had been none the wiser.

The next hour or so was a mad scramble for everything to fall into place so that he was somewhat presentable. He had bathed quickly and scrubbed himself pink so that he knew he was truly clean. He had dotted scented oils on both of his wrists and behind his ears so that he smelled of bergamot and lavender, which were scents that reminded him pleasantly of his mother. He wished desperately that she could be there with him when he met the man that he was to marry, but he knew that Jan and Alys would never allow that to happen. She was considered to be almost a spinster since she had married Jan when they were both the same age and only ever birthed one surviving child. It was shameful to have both wives living in the same house, that much Jan did care about, but he didn’t care enough to go and visit Wylan’s mother where she was staying.

He had to put thoughts of his mother quickly out of his head as he continued getting ready for the day. He dressed in a fine, starched white shirt with beautifully ornate silver buttons that lay flat against his body. He had a pair of black cotton slacks that would allow him a little room to breathe in the heavy summer air. The outfit was accompanied with a brocade and silk vest in the deep crimson red of the Van Eck estate’s colors. He forewent a tie but pinned the little golden laurel wreath pin onto his chest above his heart. It matched with the leaf cufflinks that kept the shirt shut at his wrists in a way that he knew made him look respectable but made him feel like a child’s doll.

The servant that had come to wake him for an early breakfast fussed with the unruly brown-red curls that sat in a mop on the top of his head. Wylan sat at his desk while the rising sun breezed in with the smell of the morning dew, trying to get in bites of buttered bread and cold ham cuts while a brush was dragged through his hair. Eventually they worked it out so that they were no longer sleep-tangled snarls but rather ringlets that clung to his scalp and the undersides of his ears.

He left his room just in time to see the head butler of the house coming to fetch him. The servant that had helped him get ready whisked his food off towards the kitchen so that the dishes could be washed. Wylan turned and watched the remnants of the bread he hadn’t had the time to eat for only a moment before he turned and walked after the man. He didn’t bother to try and talk to him since he knew that it was pointless, none of the servants in the house that were from Germany thought that he was worthy of their attention.

They walked down the large marble staircase to the parlor where the rest of Wylan’s family, minus his mother who was not in their home, was already sitting. Alys was dressed in a fine cotton gown that had ornate trim on the hem and around her cuffs, forgoing a corset because of the growing bump on her stomach. Her hair was done up in intricate coils that meant she had to have been up before even Wylan despite the fact that she had been married almost two years ago and today wasn’t about her. Jan was dressed as he always was, with the same crisp white shirt and black slacks that Wylan had gotten into. His vest was a darker shade of red than Wylan’s and the family pin was placed onto his tie instead of over his heart.

“Father,” Wylan greeted politely as he walked behind the couch that they were sitting in. The former parlor was where they met all of their esteemed guests, though Wylan knew that his father had most likely seen to the family during their late arrival the night before. The room was dark parquet wood along the floor, ingrained with little strips of silver and gold that were sealed in with a solvent Wylan had never gotten the opportunity to study instead of burned in like the bedrooms. The walls were painted white and blue so that they were cheery and bright instead of the drab wood that laid just underneath. There was a large, ornate rub that pictured a scene of birds flying over a bouquet of flowers trapped underneath the furniture that had the house color for the cushions and a gaudy gold finish over the wood. There were two couches with a small table between them, and then two chairs in front of the fireplace. The walls were also lined with expensive DeKappel paintings and portraits of their family back when Wylan was very young. The most recent inclusion had been of Jan and Alys on their wedding day, but looking at it made Wylan’s skin crawl.

“You’re cutting it rather short,” Jan said testily.

“My apologies Father, it took a while to get my hair into working order,” he replied. He wanted to scream that he hadn’t been prepared for what was going to happen to him, that he had been given barely any warning, that he had woken up not an hour ago and expected to be fully ready in forty-five minutes. Instead, he clasped his hands behind him for only a moment to dig his nails into the meat of the opposite palm so that the pain could ground him.

When the doors opened, Wylan expected that it would be the family that he had gotten all dressed up to meet. Instead, it was a flurry of servants bringing in a breakfast that they should have taken in the main dining room. He knew that the parlor was a better first impression to make, but if they had been sitting at the table he would have been allowed to eat. The fact that there was no space left for him on the couch that his family had taken their places on meant that he was expected not to touch anything, which would also explain why he had gotten his morning meal in his room.

He tried to ignore the way that his mouth watered when he smelled the herbal black tea they had imported from Asia, seasoned with lemon and honey for Alys, or when he saw the flaky pastries filled with the jams and jellies they had imported for England. There was also a fair bit of heavier foods, fried potatoes and bacon set in the center of the table. Wylan had never been a fan of things that left his fingers greasy, so he paid very little attention to those plates. He wanted the pastries and a steaming cup of the coffee that they had just brought in for his father.

Just as the food had finished getting set up and the servants disappeared through the secret door to let them have a quiet entrance and exit on the other side of the room, the grand doors opened again. “Marquis Van Eck, I would like to introduce you to the esteemed Lord Pekka Rollins and Lady Margit Rollins, along with their son, Kaz, and daughter, Saskia” the head butler said as he stepped aside and motioned towards them.

Jan stood up so that he could move around the couch and meet Pekka. The two men clasped hands and exchanged greetings with each other before they returned back to where they were before. Alys remained sitting, which she was allowed to do as both the new lady of the house and a pregnant person. Wylan also remained where he was, almost frozen in place as he looked over the two individuals that were following along with their parents.

The girl was pretty enough, not that Wylan had ever been a very good judge of that. She had pale skin that was completely unblemished with even a single beauty mark. She was wearing a small bit of kohl around her eyes and rouge on her lips and cheeks. She had a red ribbon tied around her head so that it was keeping her straight cut hair out of her face. Her hair reached down to her shoulders and had a small curl to it that framed her face wonderfully.

The boy was who actually caught Wylan’s attention because he knew that his father had betrothed him to a man. He had angular features that brought attention to his jaw and cheekbones, as well as framed his dark eyes. His hair was raven black and cropped short around the sides but left decently long on the top, pushed back with some kind of gel. His skin was almost a clammy kind of pale, like it had been left under the water for too long. He had a shiny silver scar along his neck and another one over his lips. He was wearing a pair of black slacks with a white shirt, the buttons wooden and plain. His tie was the same deep emerald color that Pekka was wearing, which meant it must have been the family color the same way that Wylan’s was red. His arms were framed by the way that the shirt pulled at his shoulders and highlighted the defined muscles of his biceps. The vest that he was wearing had a simple striped green and black pattern on the front but looked as though it had been made while still on his body because of how well it fit. He walked with a cane made of black wood with the skull of a raven carved into the metal handle.

Wylan felt the breath be pulled from his lungs by an invisible force. He couldn’t believe that he was actually marrying someone that looked that handsome and terrifying at the same time. He had never seen Kaz out at any of the parties that he had been dragged along to before the it became apparent that his infliction wasn’t going away. It made him wonder if they were both the disgraced children that had to be hidden away from the world, which made him feel a little better about the arrangement. The second day after being told about the engagement, guilt had begun to consume him from the inside out as he realized that a real person was being saddled with his shame the same way that his family had. If they were both unwanted, then maybe they could find solace in each other.

Pekka sat down on the couch with his wife and daughter on either side of him. As was tradition, Kaz went to stand behind the couch like Wylan was. Jan sat back beside his wife and smiled warmly at the family across from them, or as warmly as a man that was willing to lock away his own family when they no longer served him could. “Please, do help yourselves to some breakfast.”

Saskia took one of the flaky pastries and a cup of tea, nibbling and sipping as delicately as a lady that was raised with her station could. Margit took her own bit of food and ate elegantly, refined and poised but more homely than Alys could ever hope to be.

“I trust that your journey went smoothly,” Jan said as he got his own portion of food.

“It did,” Pekka nodded. “We had some trouble with some trees felled by a summer storm, but it was nothing that my men and team couldn’t handle. It’s that right, Kaz?”

He turned to look back at his son, who Wylan had been staring at. The boy in question turned his attention away from the hidden servant’s door and gave his father a rueful look that Wylan desperately wanted to know about. He had been terrified that he was going to have to have practiced manners and rehearsed conversations for the rest of his life like his mother, but if this was the way that his fiance was acting in front of his betrothed’s family, then he didn’t have to worry about what happened behind closed doors.

“Of course, Father,” he nearly sneered out the phrase as he shifted his weight slightly.

Margit shifted so that she was facing more towards Alys. “Congratulations on your pregnancy, by the way. I’ve been meaning to send you a card but things have been so busy recently, what with Saskia’s debut into society and Kaz getting engaged to your boy.”

“Oh, he’s my stepson,” Alys replied immediately, like it wasn’t a humiliation to Wylan and Marya. He grit his teeth together and tried to center himself as he turned his attention back to Kaz. He had always liked people watching and Kaz was a sight to behold.

“I understand, Kaz is also my stepson,” she said, gesturing to the boy behind her. He glared down at her with a deep darkness to his eyes that sent a shiver throughout Wylan’s entire body. He was able to keep still, however, since he had years of practice when it came to hiding what he was feeling.

“Your family has two other boys, don’t you?” Alys asked, nibbling on another one of the flaky pastries.

Margit nodded her head, “One of them unfortunately passed away of consumption recently, sadly enough. Our youngest and the heir to our estate had to stay home. It’s too hard on a little one to have a boring trip like this one.”

Once the women had finally wrapped up their conversation, they moved on to what the other family had really arrived to talk about. Jan turned to glance at his son, “Wylan, why don’t you and the Rollins boy get to know each other over by the fireplace? You’re going to be working together quite closely, after all.”

“Of course, Father,” Wylan replied with a stiff bow of his head. He turned on his heel and walked over to the set of chairs by the fire, though it took a lot of effort to take his eyes away from Kaz. He didn’t have to worry about not seeing him for too long as they both took their places by the fire. Kaz set himself down in the chair with a muffled grunt behind his teeth, the leg on the opposite side of his cane stretching out towards the crackling flames.

They both sat in silence for a bit, the voices of their parents making small talk drifting through the parlor towards them. It was warped enough that he couldn’t totally make out the words since he didn’t really want to bother with it. Eventually, the red-haired boy turned towards his fiance and said, “My name is Wylan.”

“I’m fully aware of that,” Kaz replied.

He let out a small sigh, his heart sinking low in his chest. If their relationship was going to be that bad from the beginning then maybe he had been right to worry. He tried to soothe those thoughts by reassuring himself that they could become hesitant business partners, they didn’t have to be in love with each other. Love was a rarity for nobles, which was why it was common for commoners to be taken as the fourth or fifth spouse of someone.

“I was just trying to make conversation,” Wylan grumbled as he brought his hand up to cover his mouth.

Kaz completely ignored him. His dark eyes flit over to their families and then again over to the wall. Wylan was still unsure about how he had found out that was where the door led since it was completely sealed into the wall, part of the pattern that the pictures were hung inside of, but his eyes were glued to that specific space. “Where does that passage lead?” he asked.

Wylan’s brows furrowed together as he flicked a quick glance towards the hidden door just to make sure it was the one that Kaz had mentioned. “It’s the servant’s passage.”

“Can we go through it without our parents noticing that we’re gone?” Kaz asked.

“Of course. It makes basically no noise so that the maids can come through and tend to us without interrupting conversation,” Wylan replied. He didn’t know what the other boy was getting at but it was making him a little nervous.

Kaz placed his cane down on the ground silently and then pushed himself into a standing position. The other followed quickly, nervous about what was happening and what kind of punishment it might bring him but eager to find out more about the person that he was going to be marrying. He was distantly aware of the inane conversation that Alys had struck up with Saskia.

The taller of the two jerked his head towards the passage, clearly meaning that he wanted Wylan to open it. He did as he was asked, taking two long steps towards the passage and running his hand down the spot in the wallpaper that would let it open up. The two of them ducked underneath the low entrance and then emerged into the servant’s passage.

It was a dark hallway filled with peeling paint, no one ever having enough time to fix that when they were too busy running around after Wylan’s family, and gas lamps to let people see where they were going. The door closed behind them and sealed them inside, carefully hidden away from their families and the political talk neither of them cared about.

“Why did you want to come in here?” Wylan asked, his heart beating up in his throat as they stepped down the hallway.

“They’re not letting us eat because we’re supposed to be getting to know each other. What better way to learn about another person than by helping them with a heist?” Kaz replied as he began down the long passage.

Wylan stood stock still for a moment, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He briefly wondered what kind of marriage he was getting himself into before he darted down the hallway before Kaz could get too far ahead of him.

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#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #six of crows #soc #shadow and bone #sab #polycrows #kaz brekker #wylan van eck #nina zenik #matthias helvar #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #empire of dirt fic

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ali-make-art · 10 months

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Hugs for the sad Sun.

#Ali's art #Violet Ali's art #Plum Ali's art #Space #Stars

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heartfeltletters-written · 25 days

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Her afternoon had been filled with body tremors.

I honestly love the little details you have put about Violet's EDS. It's so interesting yet painful to read how it is not just the people she loves but also her own body which is betraying her.

There would be questions if the whole second-year floor was able to hear her scream every time she fell asleep.

I wish we could see more of Violet's emotions in canon. You have perfectly portrayed the what ifs I wanted with your words. Kudos to you!

Navarre would keep lying, and the rebellion would keep acting under the radar, never having enough riders to make a difference because they were too scared to cause a scene, to stir rebellion from the inside.

I was honestly concerned how Violet could not see the parallels. Just because the rebellion wanted to fight against the venin and end it for good did not mean their approach was correct.

“Power is a ladder, trust yourself only, watch your back. Riders fight, and soon you’ll be flying for the good of the continent.” had been the Princess’ words in Morraine.

There is NO WAY she does not know. I'm sure she knows about the rebellion too to some extend. But if she does not, does it mean there would be a civil unrest because of the people in the wards who do know?

It was baffling how no one in the rebellion saw they were doomed to fail due to their pride and fear.

I honestly don't know how the Assembly members reached their current positions. Turns out people throughout the continent have the same arrogance issues 🤣 🤣

Who shows such sense of ownership and belonging in public and yet every truth has to be ripped out of them by force? Xaden, apparently.

He does not know how to be in a relationship, apparently. I'd love to see him grovel in your book now.

That’s when both she and Alys started to learn how to master the art of manipulation.

This sentence somehow made me see the resemblance between Lilith and Xaden. Both of them would do anything to protect their loved ones (In Lilith's case her kids and in Xaden's it's Violet). They honestly don't know how a healthy relationship works. We readers often say that we can excuse murder but not cheating, but we cannot actually do that. Lilith here got the rebels killed, made the bargain with Xaden and did much more cruel things just to keep her children safe. Xaden would do the same thing if it comes to Violet.

He had blamed Violet for their behavior because a member of the Royal Family could never have thoughts of their own when it came to controversial matters.

I'd love to have a friendly conversation with Tauri. Just for a few minutes please 😀🔪

“You don’t need me to be an open book. We’re allowed to have boundaries. If you want to know something you only need to start asking.”

But then what's the point if she does not even know the basics about you 😭😭

Then Rhi’s face softened. “But also terribly tired, are you sure you want to go? We can just cuddle in your bed and cry to sleep.”

Rhi is that ride or die friend every Violet needs and I'm hear for it.

“Fight harder then.” A pause. “Two can play this game Xaden, If you want me to ask about things I’ll make you the same rule.”

I WAS SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS! IM SO HAPPY YOU DID THIS! HE NEEDS A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE!

“Do be careful who you share your war stories with, Violet. I’d hate to see your mother lose either of her daughters.”

Him threatening Mira had me on my last nerve. Can I have 5 minutes with him too? Please 🔫😀

“Secrets make for poor leverage. They die with the people who keep them.”

Oh I am SO ready for him to die now

Ok so this post is extremely long.

Just ending this with the fact that you're doing an awesome job and this chapter was splendid. I'd love you to explore more dynamic about Alys and Violet and love to see more of Mira. I honestly miss her so much, even in canon. Keep up the excellent work!!

I'm gonna start crying in about 3 seconds, what a lovely comment !! thank you so much <3

Portraying Violet's EDS in a realistic way is very important to me, I don't want to get it wrong and diminish people who have these kinds of issues with their own bodies, so I try to be really mindful of her pain.

Listen the Assembly in Aretia is dumb and it baffles me how no one states the obvious in canon.

civil unrest will happen one way or another, but if people know and decide to act ... it'll get ugly and I can't give much much away without spoiling but yeah

Xaden will grovel don't worry !!

Xaden and Lilith are soooo alike !! i love writing them both bc none of them are good people exactly but they're not terrible either. they do bad actions but its all bc they think its 1) the right thing to do or 2) to protect the people they love

Tauri is a king and a king will always be a king and act superior to everyone else

Rhi and Violet are very very special to me they're it !!

No one threatens Mira on my watch, we'll see more of her soon, Alys did make a promise to Violet after all. I'm so amazed that people like Alys so much it makes me really happy !!!

thank you so so much for this comment and pls don't feel shy I welcome them every time <3

#we never knew peace #asks

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kissofchrysantheum · 1 year

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Frank and Alice Longbottom Headcannons

Alice Longbottom

Alice is a nickname for Adalheidis

Born on June 21st 1960

Between 5 and 5’2

Has heterochromia (one blue one violet eye)

Has fiery curly red hair with white strands throughout (it kind of like how Rhaenys Targaryen was suppose to look and is depicted in Panagiota Mylona’s fan art)

Lots of freckles

Is either a metamorphamgaus or a parseltounge (her dad is a metamorpmagus and her Mum is a parselmouth I do not know whose genetics would win.)

Her parents were best friends and she is the result of a one night stand

Has a large family including half and step siblings

Her mother, a Prewett married Florian Fortescue while her father a Griffiths married a Bulstrode. Both raised Alice as if she was there own.

Likes Floriograohy

Played Quiditch

Great at herbology

Was a hat stall between Gryffindor (where her brothers were) and Slytherin eventually Gryfindor won out because she wanted to be with Frank and she threaten the sorting hat saying that she would have her one of brothers set it on fire

Is childhood friends with Frank

In Lily and the Marauaders year (I know this is unlikely but I like it all we know was she was a respected Auror by the time she was tortured which was likely between 1984 and 1986 not in 1981 giving Alice plenty of time to be a respected Auror by the time she was tortured. It was a war which would give her more opportunities to prove herself and who knows with the ongoing war the Auror training that takes three years may have been cut back to get more Aurors out there.)

Augusta really dislikes her and only puts up with Alice because Frank threatened to go no contact

Had two abortions one on 1975 and the other iin early 1978, she also had a pregnancy scare in 1976 and a miscarriage in early 1979 before she got pregnant with Neville (her and Frank were kind of careless and according to statistics Nearly 1 in 5 births to teens, ages 15–19, are repeat births. Most (86%) are 2nd births Some teens are giving birth to a 3rd (13% of repeat births) or 4th up to 6th child (2% of repeat births) and About 1 in 5 sexually active teen mothers use the most effective types of birth control after they have given birth.)

Started dating Frank in 1974

Married Frank as soon as she could after graduation

Neville was an entirely planned baby. Frank and Alice wanted something permanent,a part of each other in case one of them did not survive the war.

Was mentored by Alastair Moody who was also her Uncle through marriage

Her father and many of her brothers were also Aurors.

Alice was generally liked but girls were jealous of her relationship with Frank which resulted in her being bullied

Was plump or Plus sized

Had insecurities about how she looked and would require lots of reassurance from Frank which he did not mind giving (he was an extremely understanding and caring boyfriend

Her insecurities were partly the result of her mother fat shaming her and favouring her stepsister

Her patronus was a Phoenix

Frank would call her Ace, Aces, Gem, Pearl, Flower, Al or Ali

Wore heels a lot due to her height difference from Frank

Stole his Quiditch jumpers all the time

Rarely wore her own clothes

Would steal food off Frank plate constantly

Besties with Pandora, Xenopholius, Edgar and Caradoc

Was also friends with Marlene, Lily, Emmeline, Dorcas, Sirius, James, Remus, Sybil, Ethan MacDogoual, Peter and others

Was friendly enough with Regulus although she mainly put up with him for Pandora’s sake

She and Marlene were co-godmothers to Harry ( I like either Marlene or Alice being his godmother and as I can not choose they are co godmothers. Harry has three godparents deal with it)

Despite being younger she was like the big sister Lily wished she had

Swears like a sailor to the point that Neville’s first word was b*tch

Was a bastard (she was legitimised after her seventh birthday)

Frank Longbottom

Frank’s full name is Francis Castor Joseph Kristopher Elroy Algernon Longbottom

His parents are Augusta and Elroy Longbottom

Mixed race (Augusta is black, Elroy is white)

Born January 17th 1957

Between 6’5 and 6’9 (I imagine the Longbottoms as really tall)

Heir to house Longbottom

Had an older brother who died at seventeen leading to Frank becoming heir at fourteen

Had four older sisters, one older brother, three younger brother, two younger sisters (one was stillborn)

Siblings names are in order Berniece, Cerenna, Deirdre, Emphyria, Aldous,(Frank) Genesis, Genavene, Hendrix, Isaias, and Jaqueline

Was in Gryfinndor

Adored Alice

He and Alice were in a secret relationship for almost two years because it made Alice more comfortable but all here wanted to do was tell people she was his girlfriend

Played Quiditch

Was Headboy and Quiditch captain

Asked Alice out dozens of times before she said yes despite her liking him as well. He later learnt that she though Frank had been joking all those times as she could never believe that a guy like him would want to be more than friends with a girl like her

Proposed 3 times before Alice said yes

Had two wedding ceremonies one with just him and Alice (and witnesses) and a big wedding with all there friends and family. The small ceremony was there favourite.

Followed in his father’s footsteps and became an Auror

Is not as gifted at herbology as Alice but likes it nonetheless

Quite popular

His weakness is Alice

He is cool and collected while Alice is hothead and temperamental

The only time he lost his cool was when someone dared to insult or make Alice uncomfortable (protective BFF/husband)

Pretended to act like he was annoyed by Alice stealing his clothes and food but he actually loved it

Alice calls him Frankie and she is the only one allowed to

Is quite confident unless he is with Alice then he gets nervous

Brought Alice breakfast in bed whenever he could when she was pregnant

Went no contact with his parents (his mother in particular) after Alice had been insulted one too many times. He told his mother and sisters if they could not be civil with Alice then to not talk to him until they could. Alice always came first.

Was there for both of Alice’s abortions and never blame her nor left her side. He wanted the children but he respected her decision he loves her and never resents her for not being ready to be a mum.

Frank did more housework then Alice

Every night he went home to Alice he would always keep her close in bed reassuring himself she was there and she was fine.

Older brother figure to the Marauders

Would often have to stop Alice from ending up in a fight

Other Headcannons

They were never tortured to insanity (who am I kidding that is canon. I take no arguments on this)

They both wanted a large family.

They had a large family. At least six kids excluding Neville. The only reason they slowed down was Alice’s health

Both rose through the ranks in the Auror Office

Alice became Head Auror

Frank became the Deputy head of the DMLE

Were members of the second order

Their family survived both wars

Took family picnics often

Gardened as a family

Cooked as a family

Had two wedding ceremonies one just for them (they eloped) the second was for family. No one beside the officiant and witnesses are aware of the elopement

Both of them saw through Dumbledore

Both Longbottoms had tattoos and piercings

Were partners at work and at home. They were known as the gamblers in the Auror office because they always took risks.

Frank and Alice rarely fought

Frank would often tease about how short she was and she would often call Frank an insufferable giant

Alice and Frank are magical soulmates (I take no criticism on this) and it is one of the reason Augusta eventually put up with Alice as she and Elroy were soulmates as well

Frank and Alice are very much in love, like extremely, they are head over heels for each other but they are also kick arse Aurors( there is absolutely NO CHEATING. I have read far to many fics for my liking that have one of Fralice cheating on the other. Give them any other storyline if you really want them to break up for a while in your fic before getting back together use one of Fralice’s parents hating their partner or they grow apart or they are a very different person around others or they break up after an abortion or if you really want to have a cheating storyline involving Fralice maybe that is how Fralice gets together by one or both of them cheating on their partner and the fall out of that. I absolutely hate the Fralice trope come up with something original cheating is not the only way to make them interesting.

Frank and Alice will sometimes use muggle fighting techniques on Death Eaters when they are bored

Did it like rabbits

Always touching each other (not always sexually it could be hugging, holding hands, a hand around the waist, head on shoulder)

Had a surprise baby at 40 (Alice) and 44 (Frank)

Most of their babies were unplanned but welcomed surprises (Frank is a little forgetful on the potion and charm side of things and Alice is so busy she doesn’t notice either.) eventually Frank had a vasectomy (or the wizard if counterpart) it worked for several years but then it reversed itself and we’ll surprise baby

Alice was pissed when she found out she was pregnant at forty and Frank slept on the couch for at least a week

Had most of their babies young so while the children were off at Hogwarts they could travel (it worked for the first few years before the surprise baby out there plans on hold)

Augusta did not like the fact that the women suceeding her as Lady Longbottom was a legitimatimized bastard but what she hated more was the fact her son dated Alice while she was a bastard. Augusta tolerated his friendship with the bastard (Alice) only because she came along with her family and they would not leave her home

Frank gave Alice hair combs and eventually began to make them so Alice has a large collection

The hair comb Headcannons was inspired by the fic And Then My Heart (With Pleasure Fills) by dehydrated_thot on Ao3 it is a Fem Neville Longbottom X Harry Potter (they are godsiblings) and Harry gives Niamh (fem neville) hair comb

I love Fralice so here are a few of my favourite fics with them in it

Just the two of us by dancerchic16 on Wattpad & Ao3 (incomplete but I love it) they are the main focus

Waterloo by auroraleigh1856 (ongoing but Fralice is a nice side pairing and I love it) Waterloo is a muggle Au and the main pairing is Jily it is currently in Frank.net

Armada by auroraleigh1856 (essentially a forbidden love take on Fralice with no Voldemort. It is a long shot) It is on both Ao3 and ff.net

Marauders: Growing up by Loadsofrandomness (Fralice is a side pairing) covers year 1-5 of Hogwarts

Marauders: Fighting back by Loadsofrandomness (sequel to Marauders: growing up) covers sixth year till October 1980 (it is completed and is the second in Loadofrandomness’ Marauders series the author is currently writing the 3rd instalment and has several more planned 7 in total last time I checked their page on ff.net) the stories are on both ff.net and Ao3

Amateurs at war by Natalie.Ana on both ff.net and a03 (the fic is currently incomplete and I do not know if the author is going to continue it but it is a great fic

The bonds we trust by rocks-my-socks on ff.net (Au where the Longbottoms are not tortured, take in Harry, Frank proves Sirius innocence and there are hints of wolf star in the last few chapters)

Only the Good Die Young by intothewilder& pinkpeppermintpatties on a03 (Fralice is a sidepairing

The Marauders by SilverThestral on ao3 (Fralice is a side pairing)

Of Arrogant Toerags and Rabid Redheads by messengeroflove on ao3 (Fralice is a side pairing)

#alice and frank longbottom #alice longbottom #frank longbottom #Longbottom family

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