@feydarling : If I Didn't Know Any Better, I'd Say You Were Jealous.

@feydarling : ❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜

amber liquid swirls in his glass as he lifts it to his lips, finishing off the remnants. never mind the fact dawn is still settling. the burn down his throat offers temporary salvation, a momentarily distraction from his buzzing thoughts. perhaps he had been foolish to wish. to allow his imagination run wild, somehow picturing the two of them — mated. happy. the aroma of the salty sea breeze from the summer court entangled in hers still keeps him awake at night: the first moment he'd allowed himself to even dare to dream of it, of her. yet that hope died down, crushed to pieces, after witnessing an exchange with cassian. he's reminded that she isn't his, that he was likely just a distraction that she desperately needed.

he can't bring himself to even force a smile, to match her energy in the slightest ... only a moonless obsidian night lurking onto his features, wings flaring out against his chair to absorb the rising sun's warmth. " and what if i were? " he bites down on his words, withholding any actual interest in the conversation. his head tilts towards the rays, eyelids fluttering shut. " i have other matters to be concerned with. "

modern rhys has a cat

To have her here in bed with me, breathing on me, her hair in my mouth—I count that something of a miracle.

Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

@feydarling : i'm not letting you sleep on the floor.

their plan couldn't have been going worse. on the run, hiding in a motel room that only had one bed, while the rain relentlessly pours down. nothing else around them for miles. by the time rhysand is finished ransacking the vending machines, desperate for anything that didn't look past it's expiration date, he's drenched. a palm pushes back raven strands clinging to his forehead, dumping his haul onto the table while feyre freshens up in the restroom. the rain soaked shirt he was wearing is shed off, as he grabs a pillow from the bed, & the flask he keeps on him, planting himself on the floor.

when feyre emerges, there's an attempt at hiding his grimace — casually shrugging, as if his skin weren't crawling at the thought of sleeping on this carpet. " i've slept in dirtier places, feyre darling. " he nods towards the pile of junk food, taking a swig of whiskey before holding it up to her. " hope you're hungry. we have a lovely spread of stale chips, expired pop-tarts, and luckily ... alcohol. "

@shadowsung : “ was it worth what it cost? ”

rhysand has had many nights to contemplate it: the safety of his family, velaris still unscathed. for the price of his freedom, his dignity. all of the carnage he'd witnessed, the suffering he had to inflict — packed into those fourty-nine years, were enough to haunt him for the rest of whatever he has left. what did it really cost? he's unable to even look himself in the mirror, without feeling utter disgust. there is a monster that stares back now, of shadows & bloodshed. he can still feel the ghost of her claws, reminded of them every time someone dares to utter his newfound nickname: amarantha's whore. after everything, every sacrifice, even when he's gone ... that is all he will be remembered as.

the rebelling illyrian camps were the first to whisper of his time under the mountain, that his brother's had heard. whatever bodies weren't turned into red mist, now laying at their feet. he had no desire to reminisce, even if he knew this weren't the last they would hear of it. not when they had so many bands to still deal with. yet he doesn't hesitate, features void of any expression, gaze set on the massacre. " yes. there was no other way. "

he knows where her mind travels to before she even speaks. she's drowning, it's a feeling he knows all too well: the self-hatred that looms over you, the guilt that plagues every thought, all consuming. he had been suffocating in it, hopeless. looking for any means to save his family, with little regard for what happens to himself. until she came along. & then suddenly, there was light. a symbol that someone could still be good, no matter what horrors they've been put through. a reason to fight for more.

his jaw clenches at just the idea of her leaving with lucien — an image he can see so clearly, her self sacrifice. returning back to tamlin, just to be his prize. miserable & fading away as days go by. as if it would actually ease any trouble. as if it wouldn't break him. gaze is unwavering, unwilling to let the thought fester any longer. " if he took you ... i would have burnt everything to the ground to get you back. do not think of yourself as a burden for a second. " a beat, callused exterior softening as he returns some composure. " besides, i've been meaning to take a vacation. "

her admission catches him off guard, breath catching in his throat. though he saw it in her eyes. the fire that burned bright. her finger on the trigger, ready to pull it at a moment's notice. he ignores how fast his heart races, swallows down any hope that maybe — maybe she might actually feel the same way about him. this is not the time nor place to even travel down that road. " i know. " eyes dart to his pillow, a last ditch effort to distract himself from the ache in his chest. " we should get some sleep. you have a long day of training tomorrow. "

he enveloped the room, not just by his size, but the way he carried himself — each movement made with so much intention and grace, the sheer power that radiated off of someone who knew he was born a weapon. my pulse began to raise as he sat on the squeaky mattress, suddenly so unsure of myself and my need to share such subliminal space with him. i stared at his bare back, eyes fixated as i quietly memorized the various scars, carefully covered by dark, inky swirls and patterns. the way his shoulders raised softly with each breath, the blades sliding together as he stretched.

my breath lodged in my throat, i froze as he creeped closer, his full attention turned towards me as his bright eyes bore into mine. purely adamant, nothing in him relented, no regret to be found as i studied his features. my voice soft and lowered, i spoke carefully, “ if i had gone back with him, you’d be free to go home. be with your family. no more hiding. ” instead, i was dragging them all down with me. a walking hazard of destruction and chaos — everywhere i went, devastation followed. and yet, he had been there for me every step of the way — trying to pull me out before the worst had even begun. how stupid i had been not to trust him or heed his warnings. that naive stubbornness had only gotten us here.

i knew now there was no one that i trusted with my life more than rhys. no one i could count on more than him. even after months of trying to push him away, he’d thrown everything away for me, more than once. “ i was ready to shoot him. ” the conviction in my voice surprised even me. “ if he tried to hurt you. i would’ve shot them all. ”