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🥺🥺❤️ AH STOP IT thank u sm.. you are the sweetest!!

@rootedpetals:

fire. her skin was on fire. her emotions were ablaze and on high alert. how dare he. how dare he! a snarl leaves her lips as she looks over at rhysand with pure hatred. "you had no right to do this!"

starlight filled shadows die out, power dimming away until he is seen as just a passive form. if she was fire, he were to be the opposite — unyielding, void of any emotion. unwilling to add any fuel to her flame. he knew elain figuring out about his talk with azriel was inevitable, it was only a matter of time they had this conversation. this is where having his court be made of family became tricky: decisions needed to be made for the wellbeing of everyone, even if it's to their dismay. he wears the face of a high lord, not her brother, calculated grace as his hands fold over themselves. " seeing as though it effects my court, i had every right. " a breath, his voice softening to become a still, dark night. " i don't expect you to know of all the inner workings of this court, or the politics at hand. this would destroy any alliance we have — shred any sense of peace. azriel should have known better. "

rhys having a wine collection like the pretentious old bisexual man he is

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

his heart stumbles over itself, how her gaze softens as she looks at him engraved in his mind. as if she really sees him — darkness & all. yet still she stays, unwavering. he regrets the idea of sleep instantly, attempting to dull down the feeling with one last swig from his flask, before setting it on the bedside table. " i'll remember that tomorrow, when you're complaining about how exhausted you are. "

when he moves to his side of the mattress, rhysand is hit with the realization of just how small it is. engulfed in the scent of lilac & pear, it's consumes him so thoroughly he hardly notices the temperature of the room, until he feels feyre shiver. " you're freezing. " a beat, before he decides to override his previous promise, sliding to wrap his arms around her. pulling her closer until her back is pressed against him, tucking the crown of her head under his chin.

a thought in exchange for a thought. their moments of brutal honesty: sharing secrets that they'd been too scared to tell anyone else, yet as soon as they're spoken to each other, any fear disappears. he doesn't hesitate, suddenly fearless, voice a gentle hum. " i'm thinking that ... i look at you, and i feel like i'm dying. like i can't breathe. i'm thinking that i want you so badly, that i can't concentrate on anything else whenever i'm around you. "

leaving everything behind was almost too easy for me — with nothing to my name and no one who would really miss me, i was a born fugitive. but rhys was different. he had an entire family he had built, people he protected, something he was fighting for. his wonderful inner circle that i had somehow grown to care for in such a short amount of time. their friendship and loyalty were a testament to rhys himself — the way he held them together, shouldering so many burdens so the rest of them wouldn’t have to. only for me to rip him from them in my cataclysmic tidal wave of destruction.

sometimes it felt like he could read my mind, as his eyes bore into mine, dissecting my every breath like i was under a microscope. could he read it on my face? the way my pulse quickened and a shiver ran down my spine as he vowed to avenge me. how could i explain what i had felt in that moment, as i finally realized for certain, i would choose rhysand and his family over tamlin and lucien every time. i held his gaze until he broke it, awkwardly shifting in the bed as he did. “ more training? i thought you just called this a vacation. don’t they say sleep is for the weak? ”

i wasn’t tired in the slightest. but even so, i shut off the bedside light and slipped under the single, flimsy cover. laying flat on my back, i stared at the ceiling almost afraid to glance to the side. the room was so cold i could practically see my breath, with each rise and fall of my chest. my hand, laying at my side, resisted the desperate urge to grab his — my fingers almost outstretched towards him. i knew if i so much as brushed against him, some electric jolt would shock me. “ tell me what you’re thinking about. be honest. ”

spicing up conversations by saying 'you really believe in that' at the most basic inane things