— am I a troubled kid? Yeah, you could say that.

WHAT BOUND THEM TOGETHER? Greed? Desperation? Was it just the knowledge that if one or all of them disappeared tonight, no one would come looking? Inej’s mother and father might still shed tears for the daughter they’d lost, but if Inej died tonight, there would be no one to grieve for the girl she was now. She had no family, no parents or siblings, only people to fight beside. MAYBE THAT WAS SOMETHING TO BE GRATEFUL FOR, TOO.

Buttering a roll, my dad says, “I like Peter.” 
"You do?“ I say. 
Daddy nods. “He’s a good kid. He’s really taken with you, Lara Jean.” 
"Taken with me?“ I repeat. 
To me Kitty says, "You sound like a parrot.” To Daddy she says, “What does smitten mean? Taken by her?” 
“It means he’s charmed by her,“ Daddy explains. "He’s smitten.” 
“Well, what’s smitten?” 
He chuckles and stuffs the roll in Kitty’s open, perplexed mouth. “It means he likes her.”

#peter, did you even try

bonus: 

You can put your hand in my back pocket. Hand in your back pocket? What the hell is that? Sixteen Candles? It’s the opening image. It’s a couples thing. Yeah, maybe in the 70’s.

Being with Peter was so easy that sometimes I let myself pretend it wasn’t fake.

“You shouldn’t make friends with crows,” he’d told her. 
“Why not?” she asked. 
He’d looked up from his desk to answer, but whatever he’d been about to say had vanished on his tongue. 
[ … ] 
“Why not?” she’d repeated, eyes still closed. 
He said the first thing that popped into his head. “They don’t have any manners.” 
“Neither do you, Kaz.” She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.

rhysfcyre:

He watched that pulse, the evidence of her heart, matching his own beat for anxious beat. He saw the damp curve of her neck, the gleam of her brown skin. He wanted to … He wanted.

Before he even knew what he intended, he lowered his head. She drew in a sharp breath. His lips hovered just above the warm juncture between her shoulder and the column of her neck. He waited. Tell me to stop. Push me away.

She exhaled. “Go on,” she repeated. Finish the story.

The barest movement and his lips brushed her skin—warm, smooth, beaded with moisture. Desire coursed through him, a thousand images he’d hoarded, barely let himself imagine — the fall of her dark hair freed from its braid, his hand fitted to the lithe curve of her waist, her lips parted, whispering his name.

rhysfcyre:

Redesigned bookcovers » A Court of Thorns and Roses trilogy by Sarah J. Maas

“I wonder if some part of me knew what was waiting for me. That I would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire—but that I would be quiet and enduring and as faceted as the night. That I would have beauty, for those who knew where to look, and if people didn’t bother to look, but to only fear it … Then I didn’t particularly care for them, anyway. I wonder if, even in my despair and hopelessness, I was never truly alone. I wonder if I was looking for this place—looking for you all.”

rhysfcyre:

He needed to tell her…what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without meaning to, he’d begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near. He needed to thank her for his new hat.