#love your fics too

[crow-with-a-pencil]

I may have been consumed by the detective au brain rot

Found this song recently and was immediately possessed by the creative spark to make something with it, so here's the extremely rough result of using only a 6B pencil tool.

Hope u like :)

Song lyrics: "Rule #15 - Four Aces" by Fish in a Birdcage

Detective au by @starlightcloudbaby , fic is Sleuth Jesters by @naffeclipse

[lcrnbw-art]

there are two young gentlemen staring at you from across the food court.

you don't feel threatened, but you suddenly feel very judged. which is somehow worse.

[chaostudee]

kiss the girl- j.m

pairing : jj maybank x female reader summary : after finally coming to terms with his obessesion pope and john b urge him to just "kiss the girl" words : 2.1k warnings : none? a/n : first post on here, pls be kind. wanted to start off with my bby boy <3 feedback would be appreciated.

there was no doubt about the fact that jj maybank was head over heels for you. everyone knew it as he hadn't chosen to disguise his infatuation for you. the only person who was actually oblivious to this was you which seemed ludicrous to say the least since jj was practically drooling anytime he was in a close enough proximity to you.

over the course of the past two months you had been racing through his mind, truthfully the only thing on his mind.

at first when he felt the impulse to touch your hand or to feel his lips against yours he was disgusted in himself. not that having the chance in doing so would repulse him it was just that having known you since you were kids such thoughts didn't seem appropiate to even discuss with himself let alone with you. you were his best friend and he wouldn't want anything the destroy that. he wouldn't let anything destroy that. so keeping his feelings at bay seemed like the chosen option that would be beneficial to him in the long-term.

"dude you are so whipped" john b said as he tied the boat to the dock, struggling to tie a knot in the rope. up until he spoke jj hadn't been focusing on john b or pope nor their presence. his concern was elsewhere where you stood alongside kiara and sarah. he smiled to himself as the corners your mouth perked up at something one of the girls had said.

it wasn't just your smile that enticed him further but the way you held yourself, your hand laying by your side, presenting jj with the urge to do nothing more than to feel his fingers in yours.

"dude shut up so are you" jj scoffed as he turns back to the boys , running a hand through his dirty blonde hair before taking his cap and placing it on top of his fluffy mop sending a smirk over to john b. john b swiped his tongue to the corner of his mouth knowing that he could not further argue with that statement.

"he got you there man" pope chuckled as he came to rest his hand on the back of jj's back in approval.

john b had finally tied the boat to the key with much effort and to feed his satisfaction into his accomplishment he decided to pull out a beer from the cooler. thanks to jj the cooler was always full.

for July in the outer banks it was far more humid and the air much too dry than anticipated meaning that most days were spent lingering by the swamp. the only place where the air held some amount of moistness and the water cool against one's skin.

"so how are things with you and sarah?" pope asks to divert himself from the exclusion that he had tumbled into from the two boys. it wasn't that he was particularly interested in his response because by the looks of it john b was much alike jj. in love.

lowering the glass bottle from his lips john b flashes a small smile, staring off into the far distance. the smile that he showed was one that had been buried deep since the disappearance of his father. now it had come back there was a thesis that it was all sarah's doing. pope was glad of this and at that moment in time he knew that this girl was good for him and he good for her.

"i don't know man i think i love her" he pauses as he turns to look over at sarah, her blonde hair flying in the soft breeze, "she's just.....-".

"everything" jj blurts out as he too turns over to look at the girls. pope eyes jj up and down with his arms folded across his chest.

"yeah". john b agrees with this with a nod before taking another sip .

"guys are you hearing yourselves right now?" pope scoffs to himself as he watches the two practically transfixed with the two girls. sure he had a certain amount of liking towards kiara but at least he chose to be discrete about it.

"if you don't do something about your thing with y/n jj i swear to god-" pope warns jj and it seems that he is serious that he will be the one to confess jj's intimate feelings.

in surrender jj sets down his beer on the edge of the boat and raises his hands in the air. "fine, fine i'll do it tonight" he says, lowering his hands and once again picking up his beer he spots pope rather flabbergasted with his response, john b also.

"is that okay with you?" jj confirms with a smirk knowing that he had truly outsmarted pope which was shocking enough. pope just nods in agreement.

john b laughs to himself for a moment at pope's face of utter shock. it is not long before the three break out into bursts of laughter until they are joined by a few familiar faces. it seemed that the girls were bored without their male companionship.

the three girls boarded the boat, first sarah followed by kiara then you. now that six people resided on the watercraft it had started to become cramped. therefore sarah makes her way over to address her boyfriend.

"hey boys" sarah greeted with a small wave at jj and pope before landing a peck on john b's cheek leaving him "all starry-eyed and shit" according to jj.

jj had barely acknowledged sarah once he spotted you in a close proximity. there you stood your arm linked in kie's as you were in conversation with pope who was seemingly throwing eyes at her.

feeling rather rejected from the whole debacle you turn to see jj fiddling with the rings on his fingers, the numerous rings. just as he looks up he meets your eyes and you smile warmly at him. it was only a matter of seconds before he felt his heart rate increase and his mood escalate.

"hey y/n" jj says lifting up his hand to wave but it just lingers in the air for a moment as he realizes how cheesy it is. once that awkward tension had disintegrated a blush flashed upon his cheeks.

"okay you got to admit that was cute as fuck" kiara whispers into your ear and you could do nothing but agree with her. the golden boy could be indeed classified as cute.

truth be told now that you think about it there was something different that radiated off the maybank boy. it was something that you couldn't quite place your finger on.

deciding to allow jj the pleasure of being in your company you pull yourself from kiara's grasp, leaving her alone with pope. beside him there was an unoccupied space at the foot of the boat so you join him there.

"hey j" you say turning to him only to notice that his cheeks are still tarnished red. "hey" he replies, his voice coming out croaky. slowly pulling the beer bottle from his grasp you take a swig yourself before returning it back to him.

when you pushed it back in his direction for a sliver of a second your finger grazed against his own making you all warm and fuzzy inside, definitely something different that you would feel for him. out of impulse you pull your hand away quickly hoping that he didn't notice but that was near impossible since he had now engraved that moment in his mind.

"how are you?" he asks completely brushing off what had just occurred. you liked this in him, his ability to play it cool and seem so laid-back even though he lacked to show this earlier with that god awful wave. but it was cute.

"i'm good" you nod to yourself once again taking the bottle from him, keeping your hand far away enough from his own.

"you?" you ask. normally the conversation wouldn't be so dry or awkward but it was something that hung in the air, something left unsaid that triggered this.

sarah now came sauntering over, her own beer in hand, empty. "you guys wanna play spin the bottle?". you shrug and turn to jj to see his response. his heart, now pounding faster in his chest is telling him to say yes in the chance that it might happen. that he just might be able to kiss you even if its just for a stupid game.

"sure" jj nods getting up from his position, offering a hand to you. setting down the glass bottle you take his hand once again that feeling arises but this time you accept it and even perhaps enjoy it.

***

"okay so who wants to go first?" kiara asks rubbing her hands excitedly with one another. you wonder why she has such interest in this but then you remember all the flirtatious comments that pope had sent her way, and she didn't seem to dislike them.

the six of you sat in a circle around the infamous beer bottle in the middle that had once shared your lips and jj's. that idea left you to think to yourself....would jj kissing you be so bad?

each of you turn to look at one another waiting on somebody to volunteer their contribution. "i'll go" jj says his hand hovering over the glass in case someone else would allow him leave. his eyes went around the group yet no one gave in but you did notice john b grin widely at jj. strange.

with one flick of his wrist it starts spinning and the group anticipates the outcome. as it comes to a slow it finally comes to rest at your feet.

there is an awkward silence as you keep your eye contact with the ground rather than having to look him in the eye. its not that you don't want to kiss him per say but he's your friend and if you do this will it ever be the same? will you ever the feel the same? but honestly you don't have much of a choice.

slowly but surely you raise your eye line upwards to meet his. normally a situation like this would be nerve-wracking anyways but along with your friends as an audience it was on a whole other level. you now had the pressure of meeting not only meeting his standards but also that of the others.

"come on man kiss the girl" pope urges jj as it is clear that he is growing impatient, voicing the others' thoughts as well. jj gives pope a look as he is clearly planning to do just that.

jj moves closer towards you so now that the circle has become deformed. at this moment in time your hands begin to sweat, now all clammy, your cheeks are heated although luckily enough the sun has just set so it would be unlikely for anyone to notice.

jj, now closer than before leaves just an inch between his lips and your own. "are you sure?" he whispers, his warm breath fanning your face. it smells nice almost like vanilla.

someone coughs and you are now suddenly aware of the others and how awkward it all is.

you don't even answer his question, you don't need to. you move closer presenting him the opportunity to place his lips on yours, its not long before he grasps this moment. he sets his lips upon yours and then it happens, the feeling. its like the first spark hitting a bark of wood and its new and exciting and its all you could ever wish for. allowing yourself to sink deeper into the kiss just reminds you that it has toe end but his hand holding your chin makes up for it. he holds it like his most prized possession. you thought it would be weird but during this moment you wanted nothing more than to stay like this, but sooner or later reality punches back.

it is him who pulls away first which disappoints you but due to his expression you can tell that he is pleased with himself and what you had both just experienced. a tender kiss with your best friend. no, a tender kiss with someone whom you would not like to regard as your "friend" but something more?

"ya'll need to get a room" kiara says leaning back so that her back hits the edge of the boat. "i second that" pope says and john b and sarah both nod.

you laugh it off uncomfortably, jj the same. honestly you decided to drown out what the others were saying after that, knowing it was just going to be dirty ass jokes. all you really wanted to do was experience that feeling again with him, with jj. you wanted him, not as a friend. admitting it to yourself was the first step. jj maybank had made an impression on you and judging by the way his sapphire eyes latched onto yours he would be doing far much more than that.

[princeanxious]

Was rereading alot of @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors’s awesome fics the other day(specifically a number of lys dukeceit centric ones) and can i just like?? Scream abt la for a moment?? Lys content is so fricken good? And Lu puts out a p dang consistent stream of it?? And just. A good number of ly fics are ones i come back to often bc they’re just. So well written??

And like. I’m not able to be a patreon for la atm so i hoped this piece could make up for it a little bc i reread Tulip’s fics often bc the fics are really detailed and have well-built au worlds, and very well-written character takes, even in just one off fics lu is really friggen talented at setting up whole worlds and character’s natural places in said worlds at seemingly the drop of a hat?? like. Obvi I know realistically it isnt at the drop of a hat. And i guess thats why it feels like lu is so good at that?? Bc its obvious so much effort goes into these fics and aus and i feel like ya’ll should go check la and ly fics out bc of it? Ly content is just so good and refreshing to delve into, y’know??

👉👈 soooo.. ye? Have some dukeceit as a gift bc i def struggle when it comes to using words dkskjdsd

[renabe4life]

“Possessions and Promises”

A gift for @whatacartouchebag on this 18th of May, a scene from chapter 18 of And the Reason Comes, one of my favourite fairgame fics.

I was initially planning to post this after finishing my reread of this chapter, but I’ll be sure to do that soon and blubber about it when I do. Because gods is it such a joyous chapter in this beautiful story that reduces me to a sobbing mess every time.

Thank you, Cart, for pouring your heart into your writing and for simply being you, a complete goober and an amazing friend. ♡

[kiyoors]

twenty-something

kuroo tetsuro x reader

wc: shy of 1k i wanna say :)

sort of a part two to this fic !

kuroo wakes up with a headache. one that’s so profound, he can’t find it in himself to open his eyes. from somewhere, bright sunshine penetrates through his eyelids even when he tries to squint it away; he figures he must have forgotten to close his blinds the night before, and now he’s facing the inconvenient consequences of his actions.

speaking about inconvenient consequences…

he comes to the obvious conclusion that he should not have gone out drinking last night, especially not as much as he did. but, alas, what else are your twenties for, right? definitely not for finding love, or, god forbid, actually falling in love, with your roommate nonetheless-

“you’re drooling.”

indeed, kuroo does feel the trail of dried up drool on the side of his mouth.

he feels the bed dip from where you take a seat next to his laying figure.

“and you smell like alcohol. you’re stinking up my sheets”

“sweetheart,” he starts, attempting to use that tone that makes your eyebrows scrunch up and your nose wrinkle cutely, “ i’d appreciate it if you could please speak a little more quietly-“

wait.

kuroo opens his eyes, sitting up all to quickly, and he struggles to fight a wave of nausea that almost overcomes him.

your sheets?

squinting, kuroo now sees that this is most definitely not his room.

his brain races to connect the scattered pieces of memories from last night: yaku singing karaoke, debating if he should call you to pick him up or uber instead, the cold tile of the bathtub against his back, you with his sweatshirt in hand, you kneeling before him-

kuroo groans. at both the last image and the situation he’s landed himself in.

he thinks you’re too kind (and that, maybe, he doesn’t deserve such kindness, or you) as he feels you place a gentle hand on his back. your thumb even rubbing soothingly.

he feels at a loss of words, but he can’t really let you know that.

“my head hurts.”

you snort, “wonder why”

he groans again, this time burying his face in his hands.

“here,” you give him a little nudge that rocks his world (both, in a good (you’re touching !him<3!) and bad (he’s terribly hungover and even the slightest movement makes him want to throw up) way). you take one of his hands and place an aspirin on him palm, your touch lingering.

he swallows the pill dry.

“wanna shower?”

kuroo blinks up at you, mouth hanging open like a dead fish.

oh, he realizes, not like that.

but you understand him all too well (and he thinks this might be why he’s so utterly and deeply enamored) and you mildly hit at his chest, “pig.”

you feel a chuckle rumble under your closed fist and a goofy (more like lovestruck) smile plays at his lips.

“y’know,” he starts, suddenly not so hungover, “i think i love you.”

and maybe a sober, fully sensible kuroo would not have confessed his love for you this way, but this is him, now, and he suddenly feels the urge of telling you, because he realizes that this what your twenties are for: to fall in love, and have your lover take care of you because you’ve drunk too much, and do the same in turn for them.

and he wants to do all of it with you.

he knows you realize this, too, but it’s scary, and he understands, because you’re both only in your twenties.

“are you still drunk?” you ask him, tentatively.

“only drunk in love with you,” he says, trying hard not to laugh but it’s fruitless, because you’re already snorting and laughing and shoving him back down to lie on your bed and he can’t help but laugh with you and pull you down with him.

“you’re so cringe.” you tell him, eyes saying something else,

i love you too

“you love it,” he says back.

-

interactions & reblogs are appreciated!! <3

[bluesmoth]

They settle and the vet rocks them, a hand playing with the braids in Warriors' hair, hums and it's okays getting kissed into his bangs.

hey so carved  //  hollowed    by @quirkle2 made me feel emotions. hello linked universe nation

[chaosbicycle]

Little scene I wanted to draw from my fic, It Will Be.

[jestroer]

Cute scene from Something’s wrong by @zombiiehorse but i took some.... Creative liberties.

Go read! :D It’s actually horror tho, so mind the warnings!

[chirpsythismorning]

Whenever I read the force of gravity updates I regret it because they always end on the most distressing cliffhanger. I need to wait until it’s completed bc my mental health can’t take this

[worstloki]

prediction for @galaxythreads' fic You Screamed For So Long We Forgot To Care Anymore 

[non-un-topo]

A gift for Mary @spacegirlsgang because I am never not thinking about her and @pierremichelofavignon‘s tog/lotr au <3

[heraldofavalir]

and for thy name (take all myself)

Names have power. Some more than others. Loquatius shouldn't want to give anyone that kind of a hold over him.

He does it anyway.

(Or: a name that Laerryn takes, a name that Laerryn bestows, and a name that Quay shares, no matter what the cost may be.)

(word count: 2,699)

--------------------

Loquatius does not expect her to take his name.

Mostly for this reason: it’s not a thing that any sane, reasonable person would or should expect of any other sane, reasonable person. It’s more than enough that she’s marrying him—her! marrying him!—in the first place; he’s not about to go tacking on a stipulation like that, even if he’s not entirely sure that she would know what it meant, what he was asking.

People are different about names here. He’s lived on this plane more than long enough to figure that out, even if it sometimes still takes him by surprise.

Here, no one would think anything of it if he made the request, more than likely. Or at least, she wouldn’t—but still. He wouldn’t ask that of her. And in any case, it’s probably best for both of their careers that they both keep their names just the way they are. Branding is important. No need to toss a fireball in the works.

So it comes as a shock when they start filing the paperwork, and she starts signing her name as Laerryn Coramar-Seelie.

He is appreciative of paperwork. It’s dull and boring, of course, and that’s what assistants are for, most of the time; he has better things to be doing and better people to be seeing. But it’s in his blood and his culture to be respectful of a good contract, spelled out to the nth degree, exacting and precise and binding. And marriage, of course, is nothing if not a contract, a pact, and this—this will be the most important contract he ever makes. Entered willingly, eyes wide open, and that is a sort of thrill in and of itself, to know exactly what power he is gaining and what power he is giving up.

He’s glad she’s not looking at him, the first time he sees how she’s signed. He doesn’t think he controls his expression very well.

It takes him at least several minutes and potentially up to an hour—he is so far past keeping track—to bring it up.

“Not that I’ve any complaints,” he says, “but I don’t remember if we’ve discussed, ah. Names.”

The scratch of Laerryn’s pen stills, and she looks up at him. And then, she follows his gaze to the papers strewn across the table between them. There really is a lot of paperwork involved in marriage. As there should be.

“Haven’t we?” she says. “I like the way it looks.”

He nearly chokes on air. Doesn’t, because he is the picture of composure and grace and beauty and would never do anything so unseemly. But nearly.

Of course she—she likes the way it looks. He honestly can’t remember if he’s ever told her a thing about the way names are for his people, the weight they hold, the power, the traditions attached, the risk and the danger. He doesn’t talk about his life prior to this plane all that much, if only because he likes it here better, so why dwell?

Surely she’s heard something, though, even if that something amounts to the rumors and conjecture and stories that mortals so love to pass around. About the dangers of accepting anything from a fey, or agreeing to any request, or giving one your name. But Laerryn is the type to scoff at rumor like that, if she pays attention at all. If she put stock in any of it, he doubts he’d ever have been able to get her to give him the time of day.

So he has absolutely no idea if she knows. Or if she’s guessed. If she’s teasing him or making a statement or if this is genuinely just a bit of a whim or something else entirely.

If he were in the Feywild, he’d suspect her of toying with him. Playing some kind of game, with goals unknown.

But here isn’t there, and he doesn’t think Laerryn would do that to him.

“Do you mind?” she asks. It seems like an actual question. Her brows have drawn together slightly, like it’s only just occurred to her that she perhaps should have consulted with him on this first.

“Of course not,” he says, because—of course he doesn’t mind. She’s claiming his name as hers and thinks he would mind.

If it were anyone else but her, it would be a different story. But it isn’t. And he’s walking into this with eyes wide open.

“I like the way it looks too,” he tacks on, because it’s the truth, and seeing one of his chosen names attached to hers makes something inside of him sit up and take notice. Something perhaps a bit possessive, even instinctive, like the wildness of his once-home. But even that feels soft, feels delicate, feels raw and tangled and frighteningly revealing, feels like begging please don’t ever leave me and not demanding you can’t ever leave me.

It’s the first inkling he gets, that he would let her break this contract, if she wanted. He immediately pushes that realization deep down, and resolves never to think about it again.

Her lips quirk up at his words, and her eyes gleam. Maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing after all. She usually does.

So, she takes his name. Every time he sees it, or hears it, it gives him a thrill, a jolt of pleasure, a half-formed thought of yes, we are bound, there is unbreakable pact between us, and you are showing them that we are twined. Which he is not going to voice aloud, because really, he’s not completely sure that she would take it the right way.

People really can get weirded out by the fey stuff. While he mostly has himself figured out on that front, knows when to play up his uncanniness and when to do the exact opposite, he still occasionally stumbles, predicts a reaction incorrectly or mistimes a bit of flare. And he is fey, and a contract is a contract, and that will always mean something at least slightly different to him than it would to a mortal.

Laerryn, of course, is not ‘people.’ And the important thing here is that she takes his name.

She’s given him one in return, too, though once again, he’s not sure she’s realized that’s what she’s done. Mortals give out nicknames with impunity, and Quay is the logical shortening of the moniker he’s picked for himself.

It’s just that she’s the first to call him that. And once she does, others follow suit. Their circle of friends, their own little ring, the movers and shakers of the city. They call him Quay, and they are allowed, because they are his friends. But no one does it so much as her.

It’s a nickname, only a nickname, but nicknames are still names, names gifted, and he accepts his with pleasure. It sends a warm glow spreading through his chest whenever he stops to consider it. To name a thing is to want it to be yours, and what a lovely thing it is to be wanted by the most incredible person in the city. If it were anyone else, he would buck against such a claim, but for her—

He thinks that his folk must not know, or not understand, the possibility that this plane has to offer. The emotion, the joy, the wonder, the heady press and flow of everything, unfettered by the Feywild’s inherent haziness. If they did, if they experienced this as he does, the Feywild would go empty.

Or then again, perhaps they do know. Perhaps they just find the danger too heavy.

It first occurs to him on their wedding night. Again a few weeks later. And again and again, in alarming frequency. And it is alarming, this desire. Not one that he considered before. A risk, a terrible one, perhaps too much so to even contemplate, except it’s far too late for that and he is definitely contemplating it.

The thing is that she has accepted his name, accepted it without him even having to ask, taken it as hers and taken it in stride. And she has given him a name, too, a name that sounds just right when it is spoken by her and her alone. He is Loquatius as a general rule and he is Mr. Seelie to his underlings and they now call him the Herald of Avalir, but Quay—Quay is the truest of all of those, and it is true because she has made it true for him.

He wants to give her something.

There is so much power in names, and she has granted him power and granted him truth. He wants to grant her something, wants to let her see to the heart of him, wants to—

It would be to place his life in her hands. More than his life, his being. Such a foolish thing to do.

It takes him about four months to work up to it. Four months, and they have a comfortable rhythm; he does his thing and she does hers, and neither of them really understand the other’s thing but they support where they can, and when she tries to work late into the night, he lures her away with kisses and really great sex and sometimes even gets her to sleep instead of trancing. And it’s good, it’s all so, so very good, and they’re married and he loves her with more feeling than he thought he was capable of, and sometimes the lengths that he thinks he would go to for her frighten him.

They are lying in bed side by side, and he is close to drifting off and he can tell that she is, too, that in moments, she will either slip into sleep or a trance depending on her preference, and he rolls over, cups his hand over her ear, and whispers his name.

It’s soft as a breath, quiet as the faintest stirring of wind in the liminal moment just after twilight but before the first star emerges. He doesn’t need to whisper it, really; they’re the only ones here. He could shout it and no one would hear it.

But this is just for her. For her and for no one else, not even the constant gaze of time and of history or any gods, if any gods linger in this room to listen.

He whispers his name, and he pulls back, watching her face.

She blinks, and tilts her head toward him, her brows drawing together like he’s a complex bit of engineering that’s just done something unexpected and that she’s trying to puzzle out.

For the briefest moment, he considers casting a spell to take it back. He could, could overwrite the past few seconds, call this a bloop, a mistake, put it out of sight and out of mind. Could pretend that he hasn’t just basically put his soul in her hands.

He doesn’t. He is tempted, if just for a second. But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t speak, just watching her watch him, his heart beating faster than he thinks it ever has. He sees her draw in breath to ask a question, sees her open her mouth.

And he sees the moment she stops, and understands.

It’s a relief, in a way, that she understands. He almost hoped she wouldn’t, but he knows she wouldn’t have let it go, would have asked him until he explained, and he’s not sure he could think of a lie that would hold up to scrutiny, or that he would want to in the first place. So it’s a relief that she understands, that he doesn’t have to spell it out for her, what he’s just given her.

Maybe he should have asked first, whether she wanted it. But if she’d turned him down, he wouldn’t have been able to stand it, so this is probably better.

“Quay,” she says, “did you just—”

“Maybe,” he says, and at her increasingly wide-eyed stare, adds, “Well, yes.”

There is a quaver in his voice that for the life of him he cannot smooth over.

“Why would you—”

It’s not often that Laerryn is speechless. Not in this way, in a way different from her general dislike of social interaction outside of anyone who isn’t one of their friends or who can’t at least halfway keep up with her intellect. Not in the way where she’s overwhelmed, feeling more things than she can parse and unable to get the words out to describe it.

“Well,” he says, “really, it was because I wanted to.” And the truth is important to him, but he doesn’t think that any truth he has ever spoken has been more true or more important than this one. After a moment, he adds, “Do you mind?”

He hopes she doesn’t.

She draws in a sharp breath.

“You trust me with that?” she says.

“I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t,” he says. “Don’t spread it around, though. Could get me killed.”

He smiles at her. She doesn’t smile back, and for one heartstopping second, he gives due consideration to the possibility that by doing this, he has fucked up.

“Quay,” she says.

“Yes,” he says, and is replying to more than one thing. “I trust you. I love you. With all of me. I just wanted to give that to you.”

“You—you did not have to do that. You really did not have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” he says. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Laerryn makes an indecipherable sound. Usually, she does that when she’s frustrated, and half the time, that is followed by her pulling him into a hard kiss, because he is very sexy when he’s frustrating. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when she reaches forward, threads her hand into his hair, and closes her lips around his. But it quickly turns from what might be frustration into passion and something that feels a little desperate, and then one last lingering touch before she pulls back just slightly, hand still in his hair but her hold now gentle.

She says his name. Softly, quiet as a promise.

A full body shudder runs through him.

She kisses him again.

“You’re impossible,” she says against his lips, and he thinks that what she really means is I love you.

“It’s one of my many talents,” he agrees.

For a while after that, there’s not a lot of talking.

But later—later.

Laerryn isn’t usually one for much cuddling; she’ll indulge him sometimes, but he suspects she sees it as a waste of time. It’s difficult enough to get her to sleep, much less lie there and do nothing while she’s still awake. But after, she settles against his side, her hand splayed out over his chest, and he’s sure that she can feel his heart beating, still just a little too fast.

“I know what it means,” she says. “I know what names mean. For fey.”

“I wondered,” he says.

“It’s serious for you,” she says.

“Not too serious, I hope.”

“Quay.”

He subsides. She shifts, tilting her head to look at him. Her eyes are molten gold; he could melt away in them.

“I’ll keep it safe,” she says, and he thinks that what she really means is I’ll keep you safe. Laerryn says what she means almost all of the time; the exceptions come only in regards to her emotions, and of those, only a select few. But that’s alright, because she has allowed him to learn to read her.

“My darling,” he says, “I never had any doubts about that.”

She could unmake him. He has placed the power for his destruction into her hands. Anyone from his home plane would call it foolishness to believe that she will never use it against him; he calls it love. Calls it love, and would pity those who have not known it.

Anything she wants from him, she could now have. But that was true already.

And to be unmade by her would not be such a bad thing.

[milkpansa-archive]

b o n u s 

for the darlings 1/∞ -  @actually-yikes​ 💙

[lucky-numberme]

A fanposter for In Scientia Magicae by the ever clever and charming @gentlemancrow. A variation on a Beauty and the Beast AU, this fic has a distinct and captivating visual language and INCREDIBLE atmosphere in addition to one of the most charming and complex Martins I've read. (Also Annabelle is a magical murderous spider broach and she is perfect.) [Image ID: In the foreground, Martin (a fat, pale skinned man with strawberry blonde hair) holds up a candle to an exaggeratedly large creature. The creature's head is a stag's skull with gleaming green reptilian eyes. Its long, electric green forked tongue swishes curiously to the side. Deep green tufts of mane peek through a constellation of eyes—bulbous, shining, and all pointed towards Martin's light. Stars twinkle in the background. Text at top reads "In Scientia, Magicae" and "GentlemanCrow". Artist's signature "lucky-numberme" is faintly visible. End ID]

[idk-bruh-20]

this is important information that deserves to be shared.....for totally not Tom Holland-related reasons :)