draw me nearer

I Don’t Cheat (Sami Zayn) - the reader and Sami are play fighting and it leads to some steamy bedroom playing instead

  • For lolabradbury; “Your Sami fic gave me so many feelings! Could you write another Sami fic with some dorky play wrestling/fighting where it gets heated?”

a/n: this request flooded my soul with happiness so I hope it does yours too. also, i’m so sorry it took so frickin long lmao - enjoy

Tagged: @finding-bailey @lolabradbury 

WARNINGS: language/smut/Daddy!kink

I glanced behind me as I ran, laughing the whole time. Sami wasn’t following me yet so I had time to hide. I leaped over the coffee table, nearly knocking a glass of water over in the process. Squatting in the coverage of the couch, I held my breath and waited for sounds that told me Sami was close.

No sounds came but the deep scream from the other side of me did. Sami looked down at me and laughed as I screamed back at him in fear. He held out a hand for me and I begrudgingly took it. He in turn grabbed my arm swiftly and put me in a headlock.

Keep reading

“No, you don’t come any closer! I’m still mad at you,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

“I know you are,” he starts, drawing nearer to me despite my disapproval.

I turn and begin walking away from him, hoping my message comes across stronger.
Mid escape, I feel two arms slip between my arms and around my waist, pulling me closer to this captor. I try wriggle my way out of his arms, growling, “This isn’t the part where I just magically forgive you by a touch, like every fucking movie ever, Aiden.” He hugs me tighter and my attempt to break free does not bode victoriously for me.

“Lauren, I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Oh, okay, you’re sorry. Me too,” I mutter, trying another time to leave his arms. God, if only he wasn’t so fucking built. Curse my amazing taste.

He continues. “I’m sorry for not realizing much sooner-”

“-and for being so dense,” I cut in.

“I’m sorry for reacting the wrong way, for being-”

“-so flippant with words.”

His hot breath tickles the nape of my neck, just before he rests his chin on my shoulder. I don’t bother pushing him away this time.

“And I’m sorry for hurting you, for being so stupid-”

“and-” before I can finish for him, he speaks up again.

“and for being a goddamn, idiotic bastard.”

“You can say that again,” I mutter.

I feel his body move back. “I am a goddamn, idiotic bastard,” he confidently states. “For hurting you the way I had.”

In other circumstances, I’d have probably laughed at him, but as of now, I can only find it scoff worthy.

“Lauren, I know you’re mad at me; I’m mad at me too. I’m not asking you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I know I’ve done wrong. To understand that I’ve been sitting alone in my room thinking about it a million and one times, and how I should have done better. How I should have been more considerate toward you and what you hold dearly. That I don’t have to relate to it to understand it- that I don’t need to understand it to respect it. God, I love you, Lauren Resmick, and I’m sorry for hurting you like that. Just… tell me what you want, Laur.”

For once, out of this whole angry scene, I can feel the arrhythmic breathing on my back - the occasional shudders of his inhales and exhales. I look down at his arms affectionately hugging around me and wish he’d responded like this instead of the lash-out. I wish instead of “I’m sorry,” was an “I understand,” earlier, to avoid this whole thing. I subconsciously grip his arms, different wantings stirring in the pit of my stomach; but, from this, I remind myself I only want one - Aiden.

I slowly turn around, his arms still encircling me. I look up into his grey eyes, the ones I’ve always looked to for comfort, and never once thought I would find myself turning away from, as though they were two clouds of storm. Now, they soothe again. They tell me, “The thunder has settled; dance in the rain.”

My lips quiver as I try to find my voice, his answer. I bring both of my lips in, in attempt to stop their unhelpful shaking. At last, they cease and in a whisper I answer, “You.”

His eyes soften more than what I thought what was the extent of his former gaze. I find myself on my toes, leaning into him, and, soon, him into me. With one last second of space between us, our lips reunite. At first, it is as a lullaby, but it deepens into a much more passionate one. It’s as a bloody war has finally ended, and the soldier comes home to his waiting wife, where they share a love expressing their desperate patience through it all.

I have no break to take a breath as our mouths are locked together, seemingly throwing away the key. And as the kiss goes on for what seems like forever, I notice we haven’t once closed our eyes.

—  E.G. // We have been through peace, chaos, and revitalization, and our eyes have stayed wide open - we’ve stayed looking at each other through it all.
Reference: I'TIKAF

Assalaam Alaykum,

Dear brothers and sisters,

The last 10 days of Ramadan has come. There is a great sunnah called: I'tikaf.

Please remember us in your dua'as.

Objects and Advantages of I'tikaf

The reward of “Itikaf is great. The mere fact that the Messenger of Allah (saw) always performed it is sufficient to explain the virtues that are attached to it. The example of the one that resides in the, masjid in I'tikaf is like the person who, having gone to a high personage to appeal for his needs, remains there until it is granted, He thus says to Allah: “0 Allah! I have placed my humble request before You and have faith in Your generosity; and I shall not move from here until my request is granted by You,” When someone comes begging at the door and then refuses to leave until his request is granted, it is certain that even the most selfish person will eventually accede to one’s request; and how much more Merciful is Allah.

In every moment of I'tikaf one remains in lbadah (worship), even when asleep, one is still in His service, striving for nearness to Him. Allah says, according to a hadith,

“Whoever draws near to Me an arms length, then I draw nearer to him two arm lengths; and whoever draws nearer to Me by walking, I draw nearer to him by running.”

It is also deduced from the various narrations that one of the major objects of I'tikaf during Ramadan is to search for Laylatul Qadr (the Night of Power), What better manner can there be than to remain in ibadah at all times, whether one is awake or asleep, to obtain the reward of 1,000 months (over 83 years) of worship, Furthermore, in I'tikaf one is free from all daily tasks and thus has all the time to devote to dhikrullah (remembrance of Allah) and meditation.

Virtues of I'tikaf

Ibn ‘Abbas relates that the Messenger of Allah (saw) said: “The person performing I'tikaf remains free from sins and he is indeed given the same reward as all those who do righteous deeds (in spite of his not having done those deeds as a result of having been secluded in the masjid).”

Conditions of I'tikaf

The following are conditions for performance of I'tikaf:

1. to be a Muslim.
2. To be sane,
3. To be clean from major impurity, monthly menses, and bleeding of childbirth,
4. To perform I'tikaf in a masjid (for males only),
5. To form the niyyah (intention) for I'tikaf.
6. To fast for wajib and sunnah I'tikaf (discussed below).

Note: Women may observe I'tikaf in the home. It is also not necessary to have reached the age of puberty to observe I'tikaf; therefore an intelligent child (male or female) may observe I'tikaf.

Types of I'tikaf

There are three types of I'tikaf:

1. Wajib,
2. Sunnah,
3. Nafl.

1. Wajib I'tikaf: I'tikaf becomes compulsory (wajib) when a person makes it obligatory upon himself. For instance, when a person makes a vow of thanks-giving to Allah that if Allah fulfills a certain wish of his, he will perform so many … days of I'tikaf. In this case, the moment his wish is fulfilled, I'tikaf becomes compulsory. Or, a person may merely make an unconditional vow whereby he makes I'tikaf compulsory upon himself for a certain number of days. This becomes a duty on him from that moment onwards.

A wajib I'tikaf cannot be for less than one day and one night and has to be performed while fasting, irrespective of whether the fast is specifically for this purpose or not. If the niyyah is for several days then the same number of nights will also have to be spent in I'tikaf. The I'tikaf will thus begin before sunset and terminate at sunset after the avowed number of days has been completed. The night proceeds the day in Islamic reckoning. The intention for this type of I'tikaf must be pronounced, mere mental niyyah is not sufficient.

2. Sunnah I'tikaf: This I'tikaf was observed by Rasulullah (PBUH) in every year of his stay at Madinah Munawwarah. This I'tikaf means to seclude oneself inside the masjid for the last ten days of Ramadan. This I'tikaf is Sunnatul-mu'akkadah ‘alal-kifayah: that is, if a few persons from the locality observe it, the rest will be exempted. If no one observes it then all the Muslims of that area will be sinful in neglecting this sunnah. The niyyah for Sunnah I'tikaf is that a firm intention should be made for this purpose before the sun sets on the 20th of Ramadan, in the masjid that is chosen for the I'tikaf. It terminates at sunset if the crescent is sighted on the 29th or on the 30th of Ramadan. There is no prescribed salah to be performed for this purpose. It is noteworthy that generally no Nafl salah should be performed after 'Asr salah until Maghrib.

3. Nafl l'tikaf: There is no special time or specific number of days for Nafl l'tikaf. A person may form the niyyah for any number of days at any time of the year, even for his whole life. While Imam Abu Hanifah ® states that it cannot be for less than a full day, Imam Muhammad ® states that there is no limit as to the minimum period of time. It could even be for just a few seconds. The fatwa is on this latter view. There is no fast associated with this type of I'tikaf. .It is desirable for anyone entering a masjid to make the niyyah for I'tikaf as long as he will remain in the masjid. So, while he is in 'ibadah (worship), he also gains the reward of I'tikaf.

It is advisable for everyone who comes to join the congregational prayers to form an intention of I'tikaf upon entering the masjid. This will mean that as long as he remains busy with salah, dhikr,’ listening to religious lectures, etc. He also receives the reward for I'tikaf.

Itikaf for Females

Females should perform I'tikaf in the room set aside for prayer inside their homes. Where, however, no such room exists, and the desire to observe I'tikaf is present, the room where salah is normally performed should be set aside for this seclusion. If salah is performed in the bedroom, I'tikaf could be performed there. The domestic duties should be carried out by the daughters or servants while the person in I'tikaf remains constantly in 'ibadah in her room.

I'tikaf is a much easier task for women, for in fact, she remains in the confines of her room at home and receives the same great rewards of I'tikaf. It is very unfortunate that in spite of this ease, our womenfolk still remain deprived of the blessings of I'tikaf. Generally this Sunnah is neglected so much so that many have not even heard of it!

Additional Rules for Females in I'tikaf In addition to the general rules of I'tikaf that apply to men, there are some rules that apply to women only:

a. A woman may perform I'tikaf in the room that is used for her daily salah.
b. A woman must have the permission of her husband for I'tikaf. Once the husband has consented to his wife’s I'tikaf, he then cannot withdraw his permission.
c. If there is no person to serve her meals during I'tikaf, the woman is allowed to go to the kitchen to prepare a quick simple meal.
d. If, during the I'tikaf, the woman has her hadith (monthly menses) or nifas (bleeding after child birth), the I'tikaf is nullified. She has to observe make-up of the remaining days after she is pure again. This is if the I'tikaf was a wajib or Sunnah, in which the vowed number of days was fixed. In the case where the Itikaf was a wajib in which the days vowed for were not fixed in number, she will have to observe make-up of the full I'tikaf. e. A woman is allowed to sleep on her bed and use a chair while she is in Itikaf. She could also walk around in the room for a short while to relieve the stiffness in her limbs.

When a Mu'takif could leave the Masjid or place of Itikaf

The Mu'takif (a person in I'tikaf) could leave the defined masjid area for the following reasons only. If he/she leaves for any reason other than the under mentioned then the I'tikaf will terminate forthwith. When going out for these necessities do not spend more time than is absolutely required. Return as soon as possible and do not talk to anyone. If someone greets you, it is wajib to only answer.

a. To answer the call of nature when necessary.
b. To perform wudu when the wudu’ terminates (breaks). It is not permissible to leave the masjid to perform wudu’ when one still has wudu’. When out of the masjid for these necessities it is permissible for one to greet others and to reply to their Salam.
c. To perform the wajib bath (due to a wet dream). If one leaves the masjid to have a shower to cool off on a hot day or a bath for Friday, the I'tikaf will be nullified. When going out for wudu’ it is permissible to have a wash while performing wudu’, provided it is done in the same time during which wudu’ is made.
d. To perform Jum'ah salah if it is not performed in that masjid. It is only permissible to leave for Jum'ah just prior to the commencement of the khutbah. One must return immediately after performing the Sunnah rak'at succeeding the Jum'ah.

When a Mu'takif cannot leave the Masjid or place of I'tikaf allowed to leave the defined masjid area for the under mentioned reasons. If he does leave, even though for a few seconds, either intentionally or unintentionally, his I'tikaf will be nullified.

a. Because of illness or fear.
b. To visit the sick.
c. To attend a Janazah salah.
d. To extinguish a fire or save a drowning person outside of the masjid area.
e. To wash hands, gargle, and brush teeth or to expectorate (spit). (These should all be done while performing wudu’). To fetch a glass of water.
f. To assist the caretaker in his duties outside the masjid area.

[Note: in situations (a) and (d) it will be permissible to leave the masjid but the I'tikaf will be nullified and for example, if it is a wajib I'tikaf, then quad will be necessary.]

What is allowed during Itikaf?

The following are allowed in the masjid during the Itikaf:

a. To eat and sleep
b. To change clothes.
c. To clip the nails or trim the moustache.
d. To recite the Our'an aloud or recite tasbih or dhikr with a raised voice if it does not disturb others.
e. To have religious discussions and lectures and to speak about lawful matters.

What is disallowed during I’tikaf?

The following are not allowed in the masjid during the I'tikaf:

a. To talk about worldly affairs, backbite or tell an untruth.
b. To remain silent and regard it as 'ibadah.
c. To shave the beard.

What to do during I'tikaf

All the time spent in I'tikaf should be beneficially used for 'ibadah. This is the opportunity when one is able to observe all those devotions that could not be normally carried out. The fard salah should be performed with meticulous care and humbleness and without haste. The most virtuous act is reciting the Our'an, thereafter du'a, istighfar, and nafl salah.

There is undoubtedly a great link between the month of Ramadan and the Holy Our'an. Almost all Allah’s Divine Scriptures were revealed in this month. Therefore for those in sunnah I'tikaf the most virtuous act, after the farg salah, is the recitation of Allah’s final Book to humanity - the Our'an. An effort should be made to complete at least one khatam during the sunnah I'tikaf.

I'tikaf is the opportune time to communicate with Allah, to beseech of Him, to ask Him for forgiveness and to ask Him for all one’s needs. In the hadith it is said: “Du'a is the essence of’ ibadah.” For forgiveness of sins the Sayyidul-Istighfar should be recited as many times as possible.

Over the last several weeks, I struggled with feeling as if I wasn’t doing enough for God. I felt discontent with “just being a mom”—as if I had to be, or do, something more.

Maybe I’m not alone in this. Maybe you are feeling burnt out just trying to keep up. Maybe you think you need to be all things. Maybe you struggle with the pressure of do more, be more. Comparison truly is the worst.

As a follower of Jesus, I often forget that I serve an audience of One. My worth isn’t determined by the places I travel, people I know, things I wear, the way I look. The value of my Kingdom work isn’t measured by how much of it is known by man. That’s a worldly, cultural standard of measurement.

The Lord has been using this season to draw me nearer to Him and remind me of Truth. And I’ve learnt that my calling of “just being a mom” is no greater and no lesser than that of my fellow sister in Messiah. Work well done acknowledges that our various callings are given by God, to be done for God, and through God.

In whatever we do, wherever God has us, let us check our heart and check it often. Where is our identity found? What is our motivation for the things we do? Who are we serving?

I continue to find contentment where Father has me, here and now, as a stay-at-home mama. It may not be looked at in awe or wonder by the world, and that is okay. Mothering is hard and holy work. My heart is tested as I navigate through it one day at a time. And the outcome is always a realization that I need God moment by moment. As a mama, I have every opportunity to extend the same love and grace I receive from Father to the little heart He’s entrusted me with. It has been one of the most difficult ways He has stretched me, but also the most joyous. And I wouldn’t change a thing.

Levi x Reader : Into the Shadows #29 - Death

I woke up coughing and unable to breath. It took me a minute to realize what the hell was going on and regain full consciousness.

Kuehl had kicked me in the stomach to wake me. KICKED ME. She told me I wouldn’t wake up, but I know better. I am a light sleeper. There’s no way I could sleep through someone just shaking my shoulder a little or even yelling above me.

I gasped for every breath, and that alone was enough to get Levi up and ready in full panic mode. Kuehl would never even dare to try something so cruel to Levi, but she knew she could hurt Levi through me.

He glared up at her, his eyes on fire, full of rage, as if she were a titan herself.

“Let’s get a move on little shits,” Kuehl spat. The more time we spent with her, the worse it got. It seems that she could tolerate Levi at first, but there was something going on in her head that just made those knots of sanity slowly unwind on themselves. And we were supposed to be a team.

With a whole lot of pain in my abdomen, I got on top of my horse, and we rode into the forest, towards the sunrise.

The forest was still. No, it was more than still. Dead. There was no breeze, no birds, no animals, nothing. Just silence. The forest was huge, however. As if it had been around for thousands of years. The trees stood dozens of meters tall and were round like massive barrels. Dead leaves crunched under the hooves of the horses. The forest felt so open and free, and yet I felt crushed under its weight.

All wonder suddenly broke and shattered into shocked horror. I noticed. Before Levi before Kuehl before Uwe before Oluo. I noticed. And yet. I couldn’t do anything. I froze. Out of fear. Out of shock. Maybe even out of amazement. There were three of them. We were surrounded, and no one had any idea. My horse, sensing my fear, reared up and bucked me off, taking off between two of them. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything but inch backwards and point. The others stopped to look at me, but it made no difference. It was too late.

They all started sprinting straight at us. “Shit! Three abnormals??” Kuehl yelled. She looked down at me. “What the fuck are you doing get-”

Dead. One five meter class had leap high into the air and smashed it’s face down on top of Kuehl and her horse. Only meters away from me.

Blood. Her blood. On me. On it. On the ground. Dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead.

Couldn’t move. Nothing. Uwe. Took the one near me down. Closest one reduced him to a lower half. Blood. Titan. Had me in its grasp. Ten meter. This. Where I end. This is. The end. Dead. Death. Blood. Uwe. Kuehl. Levi. Sorry.

Closed eyes. Couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t DO ANYTHING. Not even scream. Tears. It’s mouth. Dark. Void. Hell. End.

Levi. Had me in his arms. The titan smoke. Crashed to ground. Fear relief warmth shock.

Levi laid on top of me. His eyes full of fear. I was lucky. I was safe. I wasn’t dead. Alive. My chest felt like it was about to burst. I laid there, him on top of me, sobbing. I… I… I reached out and pulled his face down towards mine. I couldn’t contain myself any longer. We only have so long to live might as well live it to the fullest. His lips fell into mine. The feeling I had lusted for for so long. Warmth trickled down my spine. He was so soft and gentle. His hands wrapped around my head and fed through my hair. I had never wanted anything more in my entire life. I wanted to submerge myself into him. To let all feelings go and simply be released. I laid out my fucking heart and soul, screaming take them. I placed my arms around his neck. Drawing him nearer to me. I never wanted to let go.

He pulled back, looking down on me. He breathed a sigh of relief, and rolled off me, laying down next to me. He grabbed my hand and entwined his fingers in mine, and I placed my head over his shoulder. Neither of us said a word. We just stared up at the glittering world.

Ascension - A Feyrhys Fic

For @bodtsfreckles for the @yulemaas exchange (sorry it’s a little bit late I had some issues with it!) Thank you @pterodactylichexameter for betaing this for me!! <3 

Title: Ascension 

Summary: Feyre/Rhys, first person, mixed POVs. Feyre leaves the Spring Court after being discovered as the Night Court spy. She rushes to meet her mate where he’s waiting for in the Summer Court, just across the border. Post ACOMAF/ACOWAR reunion. Long. (shockingly) 

Teaser: Keep going. I have to keep going. Rhys, Rhys, Rhys.
 As though he hears me, as though he knows, I feel him call me.
Feyre. He whispers to me, the word echoing through my mind, my heart, my very soul.
Feyre. Urging me on, urging me to him, not letting me give up, not yet.
Feyre. I keep going. I keep running. I keep fighting.

Feyre. For him. For him

AO3: Link

My heart shudders in my chest. The hammer striking the anvil of my ribs. The battering ram that slams against its cage of bone, seeking freedom. My lungs are too tight, too small and shrinking all the time. Smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller, squeezing the air from me until there’s nothing left.

I stuff my hands in my pockets to hide the shaking. Hide the fact I’m dragging my nails over my skin again and again and again in my agitation. Hide my body’s betrayal of me. Hide the evidence of my pain, my fear, my panic. Still driven to hide from those who would see only weakness to exploit. Hide though I’m utterly alone here.  

Clenching my hands into tight fists to stop the nervous movement I close my eyes, seeking to calm myself. Free. I’m free. I got out. I’m free. Words Mor had taught me, the only ones that had helped her after what she had endured. The only ones that help me now. I got out. I’m free. So is Feyre.

Closing my eyes I breathe deeply, letting the light, fresh air fill me. All I can hear are the sounds of the Summer sea lapping against the beach. Cold water tugs gently at my ankles. My bare feet have sunk into the cool sand from the time I’ve spent standing here. The ocean has long-since claimed the footprints I had left upon the sand as he paced the border line between Summer. Now I wait, still as the stars that have begun to bloom in the sky overhead. Waiting. Waiting.

All I can smell is sea. Not her. Not yet. But soon. Soon. I open the bond wide, searching, reaching for her, whispering her name into the void of pulsing music that forms their bond.



My feet pound over the hard earth beneath them. A frantic rhythm, like the hands that beat upon the drums of Calanmai, the thundering hooves of a deer as she flees the starving wolf. Faster, faster, my body screams in protest, my muscles bark in pain but I push myself on.  

Sweat drenches my back, chilling my feverish skin when the bite of the chill wind finds it. Running in rivulets down my back, it stings my eyes, making them water, my vision blurring but I don’t stop. Can’t stop. Can’t look back. I can only go on.

My chest is tight, burning, as though I’m breathing ash into my lungs with every gulp of air I choke down. Dizzy and sick I know I have to keep going. If I stop then I lose everything. Thoughts of Rhys keep me going. My mate, my love, waiting for me. Always waiting. Five hundred years for me to come into this world. Months to watch me die and drag me back into this world only to let me be with another male, to let me love as I would. Weeks to slowly help me put myself back together, help me be strong, help me survive. Hours to have me. Seconds to lose me once more. Waiting again, waiting for me to contact him with information and updates and waiting for me now, waiting for me to come back to him.  

Soon I tell myself, soon I will see him again. I just have to keep going, keep going, keep going. I had spent most of my power escaping the house and now I find myself pursued. The spy overturned, the huntress hunted through the woods like the deer I had once stalked to feed my family. Tamlin’s wolves are close on my heels. I might be the High Lady of the Night Court, the Made daughter of all seven courts, I’m exhausted and I know it’s not within my power to overwhelm a dozen of Tamlin’s sentries, gifted, centuries old High Fae each and every one.

I had left the Spring Court manor a day before and had not stopped running since. Not since Tamlin had learned of my treachery. Since he had torn apart the house in his fury and horror at what he had discovered. Since he had realised that the bride of Spring was now the lady of Night and that I belonged to no-one and nothing but the darkness in my soul I had learned to make my home.

I had embraced that darkness as I left him, more fully than I had ever done before. For my world, for my court, for my family, for my mate, I had unleashed every  bit of power I possessed. I had shown him every piece of me, had shown him who I was, had made him see me, see me and understand me. For the first time since the fateful day when he burst through the thin wooden door of the cottage I had lived in with my family he had seen who and what I truly was.

I was a survivor. I was the Cursebreaker, the Defender of the Rainbow, High Lady of the Night Court. I had survived death and the abyss that had followed. I had risen filthy and bloodstained from the ashes of that mortal girl that had died. And I had triumphed. I had been reborn. I had healed. I had conquered. I had made every demon that stalked the dark recesses of my soul go in fear of my name. I was Feyre Archeron and I had taught them all exactly what that meant.  

When the Spring Court had come down around me, Tamlin’s bellow of fury still sounding in my ears I had run. I had run. Faster than I had ever run in my life. To my mate, my mate, my mate. My heart pounds in time with those words, that mantra, that echoes through my mind like a forgotten prayer. My heart keeps time with those words, those words keep time with my heart and both drive me on. A little more, just a little more, just a little more. Not long now. Not far now. Soon. Soon.

Over. It’s over now. The realisation shocks me to my core as I realise the true depth of my freedom, of what this will feel like, for the first time in my life…to be truly free .No longer will I wear the mask of the meek, shattered doll. No longer will I pretend to be Tamlin’s pet, his delicate blushing pride. No longer will I lie and manipulate and cheat and spy. No longer will I be anything but what I am. No longer will I live for anyone but me.

As I tear through the woods my focus narrows, my senses sharpen, as they had when I had stalked game as a starving mortal girl desperate to feed her family. There had been nothing but my prey. Nothing but the life I must take to save my own and my family’s. Life for life – balancing the scales of fate. If I was to cheat death I must become it, must claim what I needed, must pay what I owed, what I had stolen.

It had all been borrowed time, time taken from the lives I had harvested. Every breath, every beat of my heart had cost. And I had paid. Paid in blood again and again. In those moments I had known only that, that price, as I had walked that thin grey line like a tightrope. Death or life, life or death, it had all contracted down to that second, that heartbeat, that single, blinding, burning light of life that reduced all the world around it to darkness that I had snuffed out with an arrow.

The world blots itself out into nothingness once more as I focus my thoughts, my entire being, upon my mate. The single candle that has burned against the cold, beckoning oblivion that had consumed me in those months after everything had happened. The light that continues to guide me now, and always will, as I run to it, to him.

The trees of the lush Spring woods flash past me. Rich emerald greens peppered with lighter hues, accenting the scene, the deeper, darker notes underlying it all. Browns and blacks provide contrast and make everything seem denser and darker. Here and there flickers and flashes of colour, flowers and animals, burst across my vision like shooting stars.

Beautiful. This court is beautiful on the surface. Misleading. Blinding me to the true nature of its festering black heart. A rose I could have contemplated for years, marvelling at the bold, bright colours, mesmerised by the endless delicate folds of the overlapping petals, splayed like the skirts of a dress mid-dance. It would have kept me enthralled for decades, held in stasis, suspended as though in a trance, never noticing the thorns that tore me to shreds, the roots that would have crept over my body, trapping me in place as they slowly squeezed the life from me.

I feel every rock and root beneath my feet. Hear every ragged breath that falls from my lips. Sense every creature that hides from me, judging me, marking me as too deadly to consider hunting, knowing that they would court death to keep me from my mate. The smooth wood of my bow slides between my hands, the scent of the varnish strong in my nose. The familiar weight of it feels good, makes me feel grounded and in control.

Not long now. Not far. The border draws me ever nearer. Exhaustion sinks deep into my bones, filling them, seeping into the hollows like lead, dragging me down. I want so badly to rest, I want to sleep, I want to collapse to my knees and be consumed by darkness and find some peace at last. I want to drown in dreams and forget. No more fear, no more anticipation, no more lies or pain or war or loss, no more.

Keep going. I have to keep going. Rhys, Rhys, Rhys.  

As though he hears me, as though he knows, I feel him call me. Feyre. He whispers to me, the word echoing through my mind, my heart, my very soul. Feyre. Urging me on, urging me to him, not letting me give up, not yet. Feyre. I keep going. I keep running. I keep fighting. Feyre. For him. For him.

Rhys I whisper back through the bond.


I spread my wings out behind me, trying to shake out the knots. The muscles in them, like all others in my body, are tight. Drawn back like the string of a bow, ready to launch me into the air like an arrow shot among the stars. My instincts roar at me to fly. Fly and fly and fly until I fall. Until the stars find that some darkness is too black for even them to call home and cast me out.

I had never felt trapped within my own skin before I had found myself a prisoner in Amarantha’s black court for fifty years. Like clothes that are too tight it itches and suffocates until I long to tear myself from it, free myself from the confines of my own mind. The desire plagues me and to fight it, to spite it, to spite her, she who made my body betray me, made me into her own twisted fantasy and my own festering nightmare, I force myself to remain unnaturally still.

I give my wings a sharp snap, trying to rid them of their knots before tucking them in against my body once more. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to see the evidence of how late she is painted across the sky by a bold, mocking hand as the sun sinks towards the horizon, dying the rich blue sky a fantastic burst of reds and golds. My mind screams that truth at me quite loudly enough as it is.

Late. Late. She should be here. She should be in my arms. She should have been hours ago. Late. Missing. Hurt. Gone- No, no I would know, I would have felt it. Reason and terror make my trembling body into their torn up battlefield as they war over the right to rule my heart and mind. Panic wins out, rising, boiling my blood, obliterating my reason.

I close my eyes and think of my mate, ground myself in memories of her. Feyre is strong, smart, a constant survivor. She has spent her entire life defying the odds, doing things the Mother herself would have deemed impossible. She delights in proving them all wrong, spitting in the face of death herself and refusing to apologise for it. She was my High Lady, my mate, and every shred of logic I possessed told me she would be fine. But it was difficult to hear the cool, composed words of logic over the deafening cacophony of screams my panic has become.

I feel the beast stir beneath my skin. I feel my bones shift, my muscles melt like Feyre’s paints running in the rain. I feel talons pushing against my restraint, threatening to puncture through my paper thin self-control. I feel the roar of untamed fury in my blood, more than ready to unleash itself upon the world that would keep my mate from me. I am straining against my iron will, on the verge of losing everything, giving in to that side of me that I despise but that I can’t keep caged much longer, not in the state I’m presently in. Then a soft summer breeze runs gentle fingers through my hair. The tang of salt, the soft scent of wildflowers, the warmth of this court…And carried upon it wood varnish and fresh cut grass.

Her. Her scent. Our scent.

My eyes snap open again.


On, on, on, on.

Rhys pulses through me with every shuddering beat of my heart, as though he is a fire that burns in my blood, surging to every part of me, lending me his strength even as my own fails. Close, he’s closer to me now than he’s been in weeks. I can feel him, can feel the bond, can feel him hammering on the other side of it, clawing at it, determined to break through our barriers to get to me. Just as I am with him.

We’ve had to silence it for weeks for my safety, bury it down deep inside ourselves to prevent me being discovered, even though it had killed both of us to do it. It had been torture. Worse than any physical pain I had ever endured. Shutting him out, keeping him away from me, refusing to let him in, refusing to let myself feel him, not communicating unless it was absolutely necessary and only ever in brief bursts, quick words that only left us more miserable, more desperate to be together again.

Now the bond burns and sings with him. Anticipation tights low and hot in my belly. It’s a sensation I’ve become sickeningly familiar with these past few weeks. Constantly on edge, constantly unsettled, never relaxed, never at ease, always waiting. Waiting, fearing, dreading the moment I would be caught, the things I would have to do for my court, for the friends who had become family, for the male who now meant everything to me.

This is a different kind of animal however. This is a head anticipation, like hot whiskey sliding down my throat, fire burning through my veins, thunder clouds gathering around me, waiting to break. This is the irresistible pull towards something I want more than I can ever fully comprehend. A drive that is deeper than thought, deeper than reason, deeper than want, deeper than need, deeper even than base instinct. This is a call that sings from the very core of his soul. A call that was heard and drawn to by mine before I ever knew it was there. A wish that was whispered on a stolen breath into the safety of silent, peaceful night and answered over and over again by my love.

I feel the hum and taste the sharp tang of magic on my tongue as I reach the border between the Spring and Summer courts. Where freedom waits. Behind me lies Tamlin, still rattling love gilded shackles that he seeks to bind me with. Behind me lies my prison, my cage. Beautiful and comfortable and so safe but a cage all the same. Behind me lies the toxic love that would have killed us both. Behind me lies the past, black and bruised and broken as I had been. Behind me lies the shattered chains that I will never wear again; the cracked porcelain and fraying strings of the broken doll I will never be again; the hollowed eyes that may yet haunt my dreams but that I will never look into when I face a mirror again.

Before me is my mate. My family. My court. My life. My future. My own.

I close my eyes and press my palm to the crackling shield which is all that stands between me and my salvation. I think of summer, of lapping waves and glittering pearls and the feeling of sand trapped between my toes. Claimed by none and Made by all, creature of seven courts, I become Summer itself and slip forever from the mantle of Spring.  

I open my eyes and find a beach before me, bathed in the rich, warm glow of the sun that allows itself to be swallowed once more by the ever ravenous edges of the endless sea. The scent of it fills my nostrils but then…Then my lungs are full of not only the sea but of citrus too. I exhale in wonder only to greedily suck down another breath, needing to know, needing to be sure, that it is, that it  is…Him.

Rhys. My mate. My mate.

I begin to run again.


My wings billow like sails as they burst from my body, storm clouds darkening a clear, peaceful horizon. Driving them down I launch myself into the air in a single, powerful thrust upwards. My eyes scan the beach that unfolds beneath me, the border line at the edges of my vision, this the closest I could get to it, for my first sight of her.

It’s been weeks. Weeks without seeing her, without holding her, without touching her. Torture. Worse by far than anything I had felt in those months when we had escaped from Amarantha and she had been stuck in that court, wasting away a little more each day. Then the bond had been new and so fragile compared to the raging torrent that now bridges us. It had been quiet, meek, gentle tugs against my soul, urging me patiently to go to her, to help her, to seek her out. At the time it had been a torment, an agony I had drowned with work and my joy at being reunited with the family I had never expected to see again until we all entered the void and found one another again on the other side.

Now that the bond has been sealed between us it feels like a hurricane bursting from my bones and shredding my vulnerable being to shreds with its fury at our separation and my meek acceptance of it. My respect and love for Feyre can’t simply nullify hundreds of years worth of instincts and it’s been a near constant battle against them, one I’m increasingly beginning to lose as my nerves begin to fray dangerously close to the core of my fears.

My wings cleave at the open sky again to keep me aloft and my eyes rake continually over the landscape before me. When she rounds the bend and tears onto the beach as though being chased with death herself snapping at her heels the breath leaves my lungs. But I know that she and I are quite alone here, that she is being pursued by nothing but her own desperate need to see me again, as strong as my need for her.  

As she looks up at me I allow my wings to stop beating even as my heart does. I free-fall to the soft sand below. I see her stop opposite me, chest heaving, sweat clinging to her in a thin sheen, heightening her scent to a near maddening pitch. And her eyes…Those beautiful, startling blue-grey eyes, stubborn and fierce and unyielding as the Illyrian mountains, are fixed right on me.

For a moment we simply stop and compel the world to do the same. Eternity balances on a knife’s edge; the impossible weight of the future is taken from our shoulders and suspended by a thread as fine as silk above us. The space between us remains taut and frozen, like wings flared and drawn, poised to pulse, to move, to pitch the world into motion again.

But now we wait. Simply staring at each other. Every moment that has passed before us and every moment that will condenses itself into the pocket of space that is all that now separates us. Neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks. Neither of us dares breathe. Afraid to break something, afraid to break the thread, afraid to seize the one thing we want above all else where it waits before us lest it be snatched away at the last moment. As everything in our lives so often is.

Disbelief. Weeks I’ve waited for this moment. Hours I’ve stood alone in this beach, knowing she was coming to me. Yet all I feel now is disbelief. Because she’s here. Here. After so long, so much fear, so much pain, so much loss and uncertainty and risk. The potential to lose everything- again- had loomed over me like a death shroud every day she had been gone. But she’s here. Here. Whole. Unharmed. Free. Mine.

The knife slips. The thread snaps. The moment shatters. My heart dares another beat. And we move, surging for each other, at precisely the same moment.  


My feet slip over the loose sand, slick as silk, and I falter for a moment as I attempt to adjust to it. It’s so different from the steady, rugged forest floor of the Spring court. But I adapt after that first stumble and fall into a new, swift rhythm that has me flying over the beach towards him.

I don’t know what strings my mate had to pull, what promises he might have had to make, what threats or bribes or tricks were involved in making this possible, allowing us to meet here in Summer after our banishment, those blood rubies. I don’t care.

The exhaustion that had threatened to overwhelm me in the Spring Court is gone. Blown away by the soft gusts of ocean air that carry my mate’s scent to me. Stronger with every bounding step I take it fills my mouth, my throat, my lungs, until I’m drowning in nothing but him. My aching muscles quiet, my desperate flight through the Spring Court, pursued by Tamlin’s dogs, might never have happened, already distant as a half-forgotten memory. There is only him, only Rhys. The bond swelling between us all the time, blossoming like a new sky in the dark heavens, pulling me to him.

I hurtle around a bend and the full expanse of the small golden beach, bathed in the last rays of the dying sun, unfolds before me, pristine and perfect. And there he is. Hovering above it all. Rhys. My Rhys. A midnight silhouette against the glowing sky behind him.

The sun blazes at his back, burning through those magnificent translucent wings, spread to their fullest extent, dominating the scene before me. Hot red veins, like liquid fire pulsing through black rock, stand out against the rich velvet canvas of the thin membrane. My mind begins cataloguing every colour, every shade, wondering how I might capture each and every one of them, how I might preserve this moment with paint and brush. I want to store it all in some vault in my mind I can draw upon later. The rich crushed blackberry violet of his illuminated wings. The roaring fiery reds, oranges and yellows that flare around him. The deep, uncut sapphire blue of the ocean at his back. The moonlight white of the sand at my feet that sparkles at my feet like a diamond hoard.

I want to capture this moment forever in my mind, place it onto canvas the same way it’s imprinted itself upon my heart. My mate seems to erupt as though a sun has exploded behind me, bursting forth in tendrils of pure, bright light, consuming me . I feel as though I’m watching the rebirth of a god, binding himself into a body of flesh and blood and bone as he descends to earth. A shooting star that falls at my feet. For me. All for me.

My mate. Beautiful. Terrible. Crafted from power and cunning and compassionate grace. Perfect. Flawed. Strong. Vulnerable. Infinite. Mine.

He folds his wings and lets himself crash to the ground, body bowing as he absorbs the impact of the fall. Straightening to his full height his eyes meet mine at once and a jolt of pure, raw emotion snaps through me. His eyes a rich, violet sky, that burst with the starlight returned to them again in my presence.

I barely dare to breathe as I look at him. This moment feels so achingly, so dangerously fragile. Like a baby bird cradled in my hands I’m afraid if I hold it too tightly, if I seize onto it the way I want to, to press it to my chest and keep it against my heart I’ll crush it even as I aim to preserve it. But my chest is heaving with exertion and emotion that tightens to a hard lump in my throat. Swallowing I try to push my heart back down where it belongs beneath my ribs but it refuses to move.

All I can do is look, just look, at my mate and the space between us. Like a painting upon the wall all I can do is stare at it, frozen and immobile, its subjects cursed to remain in that one snapshot of time for eternity. I would spend a hundred eternities in this…If only I could hold him.

Then something, something in both of us, buried deep beneath my understanding, snaps at the same time. One moment we’re both standing at either end of the beach, staring at one another, trying to convince ourselves that we, that this, is real. Then we’re moving, moving at exactly the same time, launching ourselves towards each other.

The bond explodes between us and for a heartbeat I slip from my body, from my self, and see through Rhys’s eyes.

I’m dimly aware of him experiencing the same thing in reverse, seeing himself as I see him. But my focus, as Rhys’s is, quickly becomes consumed by me. Dressed in worn, dark flying leathers, covered in blood and sweat and filth, my hair dragged back in a now loose and fraying braid…Somehow, in over five and a half centuries in this world, of all the things he’s witnessed, all the things he’s experienced, the sight of me, ragged and exhausted and half-dead on my feet, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The most beautiful thing he thinks he’ll ever see.  

A second before our bodies crash together with all the raw, untamed energy of a wild, unchecked thunderstorm, I come back to myself to feel his arms wrap tightly around me.


Keep reading

When I put my hands on your body on your flesh I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching iself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency leaving a gleaming skeleton gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight the way your flesh occupies momentary space the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth to this present time I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures to reach up around my neck to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain
—  David Wojnarowicz

It is seven o´clock in the morning, before the hunger of imagination is satisfied. The sun has not yet decided to rise or set -but your mouth comes…It becomes two bodies itself, separated by a horizon , slim, undulating like the earth and sky, like you and me, and thus like all microscopic objects, invisible to the eye…lips of the sun, you draw me endlessly nearer, and in this instant before awakening , when I cast loose my body - I am weightless- I meet you in the even light and empty space and, my only reality, kiss you with all that is left of me : my own lips.

Passionate words of Man Ray to Lee Miller.

Act of Reparation to the Sacred Heart

O Jesus, Son of God and our Saviour, have mercy on all who wound Thy Sacred Heart by sin, unfaithfulness and neglect. O loving Heart of Jesus, broken by our ingratitude, pierced by our sins, yet loving us still, accept in reparation the suffering I now make to Thee of all that I am and all that I have. Draw me ever nearer to Thy Sacred Heart: there where I can learn best, teach me, O Jesus, Thy blessed way to eternal life.

When I put my hands on your body, on your flesh, I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake, but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency, leaving a gleaming skeleton, gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight, the way your flesh occupies momentary space, the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth, to this present time, I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours, I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures, to reach up around my neck, to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain.
—  David Wojnarowicz, The Half-Life
fic: Draw Me Nearer (illustrated)


Seblaine, pg, 2900 words. Sebastian’s drawn to the art student who keeps catching his eye in his local coffee shop. 

author’s notes: ARTIST COLLAB with Ari, inspired by her beautiful sketch and prompt, written for Zephy’s birthday : )


His pen has barely touched the page or Quinn sits down opposite him at their usual table, Santana following directly behind, and they sit so close together they cut off his view. He’s grateful for the distraction, he hasn’t gotten any work done since he sat down an hour ago, his coffee’s gone cold, and his eyes keep wandering towards the front of the store. 

links: ao3 I ff.net

reasons i am ready for fall

-sweaters and hats and scarves and stuff

-pumpkins everywhere especially those lil tiny ones people line up on their porch those ones 

-rewatching over the garden wall because it got that Autumn Feel ™

-warm drinks and stuff aw yiss give me all the hot apple cider and pumpkin spice lattes you got son

reasons i am not ready for fall 


-The Inevitable Threat Of The Harsh New England Winter Draws Nearer…. Spare Me From This Frozen Bitter Hellscape Of Ice……….


Oh how i loveee this song :)