#happy qots day!

[the-lonelybarricade]

Queen of Thieves - Chapter 8

Summary: A fulfillment of this kinkmeme prompt. Or; A Canon AU where half fae, con-artist Feyre makes an ill placed bet.

Happy birthday to our darling Rhys!! I got him everything he wanted 😏

CW: Smut, Mild dubcon/CNC elements, mind control, and other dubious, wicked things

Read on AO3・QoT Masterlist ・Previous Chapter

-

Feyre was eleven years old the first time she was desperate enough to steal.

Like any ordinary child, she'd been taught that stealing under any circumstance was wrong. Her father was a merchant, which meant that thieves posed a direct threat to his livelihood, particularly when piracy was so common along the trade routes to the continent.

He'd built his legacy, the Prince of Merchants, on his willingness to sail those trade routes, navigating pirate-ridden seas because the higher risk equated to higher reward.

But a name wasn't won through gambling alone. Any merchant with a rookie crew could luck their way to the continent and back. What made him the best—the Prince—was his expertise in the art of bargaining. He was renowned for having deals so detailed, so craftily constructed, they needed to be written and signed in advance of each journey.

Feyre had been present for a few of those meetings, watching as ink bled from paper to skin. Sometimes, she'd even been present for the aftermath, listening to crewmen grumble about underhanded terms.

I am a man of my word, Father once said, rolling a contract over his desk and stabbing a finger to its contents. And my word was stated plainly. Do not impute your failure to read the terms on my good name. I am no liar, and I am certainly no thief.

He always used that word like it was filthy.

Feyre once mirrored that belief.

As a child, she would delight in sitting atop storage crates on the docks, monitoring the gangways as her father's crew unloaded cargo from his ship. If there were any wayward thieves, she was determined to catch them.

After all, Father didn't trust the folk along the docks. He barely trusted his own crew.

They don't have any passion for the exploration or the trade, he once grumbled. All they want is a bed and a meal.

Feyre remembered being shocked to hear that some people didn't have those things. Until that point, she'd always relied on having her basic needs met, and then some.

What's so bad about that?

When all a person cares about is surviving, it means they're willing to blur lines. They'll cheat, lie, and steal if it helps them get ahead.

Father shook his head like those three things were truly abominable. Little did he know that one day, Feyre would become a master of all three.

But she started with mastering one.

Two years after her father's vessel sank on the route to Bharat, Feyre's mother had fallen ill. Humans had weak constitutions, and grief could take a heavy toll. So could debt—of which, they'd learned the famed Prince of Merchants had many.

So Mother sold the house, then the jewels, then, eventually, her own body.

It was barely enough.

By the time she was too ill to work, there was nothing left to get by. No silver candlesticks or golden rings they could pawn at the market for medicine.

When Feyre wandered into the apothecary's shop, her intentions had been pure. If she knew the price of the medicine, then perhaps she and her sisters could find a way to scratch together the amount needed. They could scrub floors, or pull weeds in someone's garden, or maybe Elain could use her big brown eyes to draw sympathy begging in the streets.

The shop was lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves on every wall, filled to the brim with glass vials of varying colors and consistencies. Each sported a white label Feyre couldn't discern, though she was happy to pick out the colors that she found most interesting: a flask of swirling violet flecked with silver granules, another of bright, bubbling pink, and one which she swore housed a slithering creature.

"Can I help you?" The apothecary asked.

She sounded concerned, which any adult rightly would be at the sight of Feyre's tattered clothes.

It sparked hope that Feyre could appeal to the elderly female's empathy. That was all she'd been trying to do when she stared into the apothecary's eyes. Please help me, she thought. I know you want to help me.

The female's concern was so potent that Feyre could feel it, a rope tethering two strangers, built on kindness, on compassion. Her mind was as wide open as her heart.

Feyre didn't know she was digging into it until she felt something give. Like fingers clawing into wet sand.

I need a cure for a human fever, Feyre said.

She thought she said it out loud. She must have, because the apothecary started moving toward the shelf on the back wall.

Acting troupes occasionally put on puppet shows in the market squares near The Rainbow. Feyre felt like she was watching one of those shows as the female jerked open a drawer, her movements erratic. Unnatural. Like she was being controlled by an inexperienced puppeteer.

But the oddity was forgotten the second the woman produced a vial of shimmering liquid and handed it to Feyre without a word of the price. Her eyes were unnervingly vacant as Feyre took the vial, thanked the apothecary, and fled back to her mother.

She didn't realize until years later what happened; she didn't realize that was the moment she'd become a thief.

-

Daemati magic came in many different forms.

Suspended in the space between the High Lord of the Night Court's foyer and study, it took the shape of madness and indulgence.

Over the years, Feyre had progressed from accidentally breaking into people's minds into doing so with intention. It was a gradual process, one she likened to painting. A child used their fingers, but an artist used a brush.

And she was learning her mental bowstring was as rudimentary as finger painting to Rhysand.

Last time, he'd shown her brutal talons that allowed him to play ventriloquist, and she'd thought that was the extent of it. Pure, unyielding power.

But of course, it could be soft, too. Gentle, like a feather's touch ghosting over her mind. Almost… ticklish. Playful.

Like the fingers landing on her bare stomach. He splayed them out carefully, the way one might handle ruptured glass. They might have both been holding their breath as the challenge became real.

Their eyes met, waiting for the other to fracture. This was a ridiculous, dangerous game; they both knew it.

He was lowering himself to his knees before her, for Cauldron's sake. The most powerful male in Prythian bowing like a supplicant. It all seemed so backward to her.

But those strong, capable hands spread wider, undeterred by the constraints of social hierarchy. What did a High Lord care, when he could simply rewrite the rules with his fingertips? He stretched them until his palms landed flat, scalding her on either side of her abdomen. She tried not to focus on how long his fingers were, spanning over the curve of her waist while the tips of his forefingers skimmed her ribs.

"This," Rhys breathed, tracing one of his thumbs along the golden chain adorning her midriff, "was an excellent wardrobe choice."

"You can thank one of the mountain nymphs in the Palace of Thread and Jewels," Feyre said. As if this were a perfectly normal conversation. "She sold it to me."

"I'll make note of that," Rhys murmured, still toying with that gods-damned chain. Feyre fought the urge to squirm. "I owe her my heartfelt gratitude."

"I bought it with your money," she added.

Rhys shut his eyes. She watched him take a deep breath, and she couldn't tell if that knowledge irritated or excited him. When those violet eyes flashed open, bright and burning with hunger, Feyre thought she had her answer.

"Then it was arguably the best money I've ever spent."

"Arguably?"

It was meant to come off as teasing, but with his fingers drifting up her stomach, everything was coming out a little bit strained. And maybe… a little hurt. Not that it mattered if the High Lord regretted spending his money on her.

When Rhysand laughed, his breath danced over her skin, as light a caress as his presence at her mental shields.

"I would claim it with more conviction, but you weren't here for the ass-chewing I received from my second."

"Your—" she broke off with a little gasp as Rhysand's hands slid upwards, dipping beneath the golden band that cinched her top over her breasts. She adjusted her grip on the rope, holding tighter. "Your second in command?"

"Amren," he supplied. "She's a vicious firedrake trapped in a tiny female's body."

"Amren," Feyre echoed, squeezing her eyes tight as those curious fingers began running along the beads hanging beneath her breasts. They made a soft, metallic tink as they swung and collided with each other. "Amren like… like from the children's stories?

Nesta used to tease her with cautionary tales of the bloodthirsty Amren, who lurked in the shadows and sucked on the bones of naughty children. It wasn't the first she'd heard of Rhysand being in cohorts with Amren, but she'd always assumed it was figurative. The way a Priestess was associated with the Mother.

"She doesn't devour misbehaving children, if that's what you're wondering." Rhysand paused, drawing back for a moment with a horrifyingly considerate expression. "Anymore," he clarified.

"Anymore?" Feyre squeaked.

"There's no need to be afraid, Feyre." He grinned, leaning in closer. "Unless, of course, you've been misbehaving. Is there something you'd like to confess?"

Cauldron boil her. Feyre couldn't tell if he was being serious.

"Last I checked, stealing and gambling aren't exactly the traits of a priestess."

"It's a good thing Amren isn't the Mother, then. I think she would find those things amusing," Rhys said, a curious warmth to his voice. One she might even dare to label as affection. "In fact, I think she'd be quite impressed with you."

Feyre repeated, incredulous, "With me?"

"I certainly am."

And before she could digest that statement, Rhys circled a hand to the small of her back, untying the golden band that kept the fabric over her breast secured. It dropped to the floor in a clatter of beading, marking the descent of Feyre's resolve.

Her arms were starting to tremble, and she was grateful she could blame it on the exertion of holding them up. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on the stinging in her palms from how tightly she gripped the rope. It was far better to focus on her chafing skin than the kiss of cool air against the underside of her breasts.

There was nothing preventing Rhys from slipping his hands beneath the newly loosened fabric and discovering her hardened nipples—not that they weren't already visible, peeking through the thin layer of fabric.

Rhys drew back to observe her, holding his advance for the moment.

"Are you getting nervous, Feyre?" The lapping presence at her mind became a little pushier, more of a prod than a stroke. "Your shield's still holding up nicely."

"Because I'm not nervous," she insisted.

"No?" Rhys leaned in, pressing the tip of his regal nose just beneath her navel. "Is that something else I smell, then?"

"Is it the stench of your own ego?"

"So sharp with me," he chided, momentarily abandoning his conquest near the top of her ribs to guide his nose lower, down to her hip bone, then across the low dip of her skirt. "What will it take to make you soft? Is it just a matter of finding the right spot to stroke?"

Feyre snorted. "I don't think soft is what appeals to you, High Lord."

"Oh?" His eyes flickered up to hers, only briefly, before he resumed his slow exploration. "What is it you think appeals to me?"

Feyre didn't answer. She didn't know how—not once he found the knot that kept her skirt in place. He bit into it, tugging with his teeth despite having two perfectly good hands placed just below her breasts.

Feyre nearly let go. She considered it, at least, as she watched Rhys unravel the knot with his mouth. She had time to stop it from plummeting to the ground in a waterfall of blue cloth. But she didn't.

As it pooled at her feet, Rhys drew away again, taking her in with riveted interest. With her hands occupied, there was nothing she could use to hide from his stare, though she twitched with the urge. She felt like a creature trapped in a frame, laid bare under his assessment.

It wasn't the clothes, or lack thereof. Though, he looked delighted to discover the pair of lacy underthings she'd selected that morning. It wasn't the lust, either. Not when she felt it in equal measure, and had walked into this house fully intending to slate their shared desire.

No, what caught her off guard. What stripped her raw, worse than the rope squeezed between her fingers, was the way that smug smile faded into something… something Feyre didn't know how to name.

His eyes captivated her. Blazing and intent, no different from the moment they met. She couldn't look away from them—and she wanted to, if only to glance over her shoulder and ensure the Mother hadn't materialized behind her back. That was the only way Feyre could have explained the awe creeping over his expression.

His fingers flexed at their place over her ribs, as though restraining the urge to drag them lower.

"You," he said, answering the question she couldn't. On his knees, in that voice… It sounded oddly like a prayer. "I want you however you come, Feyre. Soft or sharp, you're equally exquisite."

Her heart was beating in her throat. "What if I only know sharp?"

"Then be as sharp as you want with me." He was leaning towards her again, less as if driven by hunger and more as if he simply couldn't resist. Like she was the puppeteer, pulling him forward. "Cut me, make me bleed. Just—don't make me stop."

Feyre didn't plan on it. That rope was her lifeline, and she held tight as Rhys dived back against her stomach, his mouth open this time, tasting and nipping at her skin. There would be marks there tomorrow. A trail of love bites across her hips, just beneath the golden chain he seemed so obsessed with.

When she tried to wriggle away, growing impatient, Rhys slid his hands to her hips, locking her in place.

"Stay still for me." She found his orders lost some of their impact when muffled into her stomach. "I told you I intend to taste every inch."

It was a shame she couldn't dive her hands into his hair. If she could, she would have taken hold and pushed his mouth where she actually wanted him—needed him.

"Rhys."

His name was half gasp, half complaint.

"You know." He slid his tongue around the curve of her navel, before mouthing his way to the valley of her breasts. His hands followed in a slow, scraping caress. "I don't think I've ever heard you call me that before."

"Would you—" Feyre's breath hitched as he brushed the back of his knuckles against one of her nipples. "Prefer to be called High Lord?"

That seemed to amuse him. "My bedmates aren't usually so formal."

"What do you prefer then? Master? Milord? Your Great Exaltedness?"

Rhys hummed dismissively. "If you can say that many words, then I'm not doing my job right."

"Well, I've been speaking this whole time. So what does that tell you about how you're doing?"

Feyre knew she was in trouble when Rhys stilled. She didn't know why she always felt the need to provoke him. Maybe it was because she still couldn't figure out why he tolerated it.

This was the same male who threatened to cut off someone's tongue for speaking too casually in his presence. The same male who slaughtered one of his captains without blinking. He had a reputation for ruthlessness, and she'd witnessed firsthand how he'd earned it.

And yet, he always seemed to hold back the breadth of his cruelty around her.

Even now, as he thumbed at her nipple through the loose fabric over her chest, he exuded patience. Musing, "Have you ever tried Illyian tea?"

Tea? Not following where he was going with the question, Feyre answered with a hesitant, "No?"

"It's cold in the Illyrian Mountains," Rhys said, emphasizing his point by ducking to blow a gust of cold breath over her collarbone. Feyre shivered. "The tea keeps us warm, and doubles as treatment for the wounded. It's strong stuff. The kind that burns down your throat and will land you on your ass after too many cups."

"What's your point?"

"You don't savor Illyrian tea. You down it as quickly as possible and wait for the warming to start."

"Okay?"

"I spent most of my youth in the Illyrian Mountains," Rhys went on. "And the first time I attended a High Lord's summit with my father, he smacked me upside the head when I tried to down a thimble of Day Court Mead. He told me I looked barbaric. Day Court Mead is one of the finest wines in Prythian, you see. You're meant to sip it, holding the flavors on your tongue."

"So I'm the mead, then," Feyre said, guessing where he was going with the analogy. "Am I supposed to be flattered that you're comparing me to a drink?"

Rhys didn't answer immediately. He only grinned to himself, before pulling away and rising from his knees. An unsettling response—almost as unsettling as his cryptic, "Stay here."

Then he headed back into the dining room. Feyre leaned through the doorway as best she could to follow what he was up to, but from her vantage point, all she could see was the end of the dining table and the abandoned chairs. She didn't dare let go of the rope to inspect any further.

It could be a trick, after all.

"I swear to the Cauldron, Rhysand, if you intend to leave me hanging from the doorway for the rest of the bargain—"

"You'll what, exactly?" He asked, sauntering back into view with a bottle in his hands, his face the picture of smug amusement.

"You'll owe me anything by the end of this," Feyre reminded him. "If you decide to be cruel, I'll endure it. And then I'll ensure it's repaid in full."

"Such a feisty creature you are." The words sounded gratingly affectionate, the way one would speak to a kitten batting at their leg. "And, pray tell, how will I be repaid if I decide to be kind? Might I expect more warmth from you?"

Feyre narrowed her eyes at the bottle in his hand. "What's that?"

He displayed it proudly before her. "Day Court mead, of course."

That was where he lost her. And it made Feyre nervous, seeing his large hands braced around the bottle, watching as he drew his thumb suggestively around the rim of the cork…

Her voice wobbled a bit as she asked, "W-what are you planning to do with it?"

All it needed was a small push of his thumb and then—pop.

"I want you to try it," Rhysand said, closing the distance between them.

His fingers lodged under her chin, burning where they touched. She was burning in so many places, now. Her hands, raw from the rope. Her chin, warm from his touch. Her cunt, aching with need. And her cheeks, embarrassed from it all.

"Be good for me." Rhys tilted her chin up, until her eyes were level with the sight of her trembling arms, growing white and numb, but still holding fast.

When he raised the bottle, he dragged his thumb across her lower lip, prompting with a single, firm, "Open."

Feyre parted her lips, allowing him to pour the mead into her mouth.

The first drop was like sunlight. Honeycomb drenched sunlight. Sweet, but not like sugar. Sugar was sharp, quick, and over too soon. This was slow, like a sun-warmed nap in a swaying field, rich and indulgent. The longer she tasted, the more depth she discovered, luring her in, somersaulting her towards a golden abyss.

"Don't swallow," Rhys whispered, his voice wending around her, coupled by strokes of dark tendrils that forced her awareness to return to her other senses. On her tongue, a drop had become a flood, filling her mouth until it pooled, then overflowed, streaming down her chin, her neck, her breasts.

She could already feel the sugar sticking to her, but her focus was on remembering to breathe through her nose, trying desperately not to choke while Rhys continued pouring, his other hand cradling her skull as he murmured, "That's it, Feyre. Good girl."

Eventually, the bottle ran dry.

"Not yet," Rhysand said. "You're meant to hold it on your tongue, remember?"

Feyre's throat bobbed uncomfortably. That was another place she was beginning to burn.

"Stay still," he coaxed, leaning in. Their eyes met as his lips fell over hers. Those damn, discerning eyes that saw everything, including the desire she was trying so hard to fight.

He saw it, and smiled, all wicked and taunting. His tongue flicked across her lower lip, tasting the wine. But he didn't stop there.

His fingers curled in her hair, urging her head upright so the mead could flow from her open mouth to his. It wasn't clean by any means. Honeyed wine spilled from the seam of their lips, dripping onto her skin and his clothes, making a mess of them both. She swallowed what was left—it was the only way she could kiss him back, and Rhys didn't seem to have any complaints.

With a groan, he dashed the empty bottle to the floor, bearing no mind to the resulting crash and scattering fragments. He seemed to have much more pressing concerns, which involved scooping Feyre against him to deepen the kiss. His tongue traced her lower lip again, and she opened her mouth, inviting him to taste at the source.

His tongue swept in, tasting of honey, and she wanted so badly to let go of the rope so she could hold him there, to suck at his tongue and bite at his lips. Rhys was in full control, positioning her just as he wanted so he could taste.

Feyre hissed when he pulled away to lick a trail of mead from her chin.

A rasping chuckle was her response. "I've made a mess, Feyre. It's my duty to clean it up."

A hand fisted in her hair and tugged, angling her neck back so he had full license to lick the column of her throat.

Feyre was panting, squirming against his hold and furious that he would stop kissing her. "Rhys—"

"What happened to Your Great Exaltedness?"

He kept her arrested in that position, taking his time to suck and nip at her skin, then pull away with an audible pop. Over and over, he ignored her groans of frustration, creating a path of red welts that were soon interrupted by her sullied top.

"Oh dear, this has been ruined, hasn't it?" He didn't sound the least bit concerned as he ripped at it, casting the garment away as if it were mere cobwebs. "Don't worry, I'll get you a replacement."

And then the heat of his mouth surrounded one of her breasts, his tongue circling her nipple. Feyre gasped, bucking into the air. This was going to be impossible if she didn't have something to ground her, something to—

Rhys, as if sensing what she needed, wedged his thigh between her legs. The pressure against her clit relieved some of the ache, but introduced the new, humiliating urge to drive her hips forward.

She bit her lip, determined to resist.

"Is this what you needed, Feyre?" Rhys coaxed, palming her hip to create the movement for her. She fought a whimper as her clit ground against his hard muscle. "Does that feel better?"

She refused to answer him. But she also didn't stop moving her hips when he let go.

"That's it," he murmured, returning his attention to her breasts. One was cradled in his palm, while the other endured the countless lashes from his tongue, teasing her so mercilessly that she thought she might die if she didn't touch him.

When his teeth clamped down, Feyre screamed, driving her hips against his thigh harder. Her head was beginning to spin, a mixture of exhaustion and pleasure and pain.

As she writhed against him, Feyre started plotting all the ways she would get her revenge once her hands were free. Maybe she'd fish another bottle of mead from his cellar and sip it from his abs. Maybe she'd tie him up and ride his face until he couldn't breathe.

Maybe she'd—

My, don't you have the most delicious thoughts about me.

Feyre froze. Rhysand's mouth was still latched to her breast. Those words hadn't come from his mouth. Which meant that voice…

It was in her mind.

You should pay more attention to your mental shields, Feyre. A lesser male could walk right in and decide to take you up on those filthy thoughts of yours.

Feyre's fingers flexed with the urge to lash out in front of her, as if she could physically push him out. What are you doing?

Did you forget? This was a daemati exercise. And it looks like your shield dropped as soon as you started enjoying yourself.

A familiar sensation crept over her—awareness, like a cold breath cascading down her spine, that her body was yielding to a foreign presence. Her veins became a latticework of strings, and she felt his talons pluck at them, transforming her into a marionette of his will.

Now, now, he tutted. Don't stop on my account, Feyre.

Captive in her own mind, Feyre could do nothing to prevent her hips from rolling forward. Her head tipped back, and without restraint over her body, there was nothing to smother the moan rising in her throat.

There you are, Feyre. Give in to it.

He was everywhere, physical and otherwise. His magic swarmed through the crack in her mental shields, blanketing her mind in a fog of endless starlight. She treaded through it the same way she'd learned how to swim, thrashing and kicking blindly in an attempt to reach the surface. But that assumed there was a surface, an ending to the vastness of power that twined and twisted around her.

Rhys clicked his tongue. Must you always fight me?

Outside their minds, she felt cool air sting her puckered nipple, exacerbated by the saliva glinting there, and the trail of it that led to Rhysand's cat-like grin. She watched him lick his lips as he admired his work: From her flushed skin, covered in love bites and rivulets of golden wine, to her trembling arms, waning in strength. Finally, his attention dipped to his thigh, where the fabric of his trousers had become damp from each consecutive pass of Feyre's hips.

He took a deep, pointed inhale. You can admit you want this. There's no sense hiding what we both already know.

I want—even her mental voice sounded shaky—the money and the favor. Not you.

Immune to her lies, her body continued helplessly rubbing against him. Her breathing quickened as that pressure began to build, winding hot and tight.

Why not me, Feyre? Rhys pushed, almost taunting. He could feel she was close to the edge. Is it because it frightens you?

Because it's not real!

That's not the game we're playing right now.

His tongue snaked along her throat, licking away more of the mead.

Inside, she was grappling against his hold. They thrashed and rolled through the darkness, her claws scraping his, pushing and pulling, ebbing and flowing until they were a tangled mass of magic, so deeply intertwined that Feyre lost all sense of where she ended and he began.

Meanwhile, Rhysand held her, enveloped her, worshiped her with his mouth and hands and talons, and she thought it wouldn't be the worst thing to surrender to this.

Why was she holding herself back?

This is all just a distraction, she reasoned. It doesn't mean anything

Do you want it to mean something, Feyre?

Feyre wanted to scream. Though, from frustration or pleasure she wasn't certain. Everything was becoming muddled, colors bleeding together like water over paint. There wasn't room in her mind to think, and outside her body was being driven to a pinnacle that she couldn't hold back.

Get out of my head!

Rhysand's voice was full of faux sympathy. If it's too much for you, darling, then let go of the rope.

Fuck you.

Oh, I intend to. His voice was starting to sound a little breathless, too. A large hand palmed her backside, moving her faster against him. She watched through half-lidded eyes as his head tipped back with a low, guttural sound. Fuck. Feyre—

The world fractured. Erupted, like dropping into the ocean and feeling the water rush past. She delved deep into that darkness, feeling her own magic rupture and scatter into stars, washing her soul against the shore of his, their very essence seeping through the cracks of the other, becoming a tapestry of magic threaded so tightly she could feel it pulling in her chest.

Feyre let go of the rope.

She didn't know she still had enough control over her body to do so, not until she was already moving, threading her arms behind his neck to crash her mouth to his. It wasn't gentle. He didn't deserve gentle.

Bed, she demanded.

Rhys obeyed without question, not breaking their kiss as darkness folded and unspooled around them, depositing Rhys on his back atop his bed. Feyre straddled him, clawing at his clothes with shaking, rope-burned hands.

Until Rhys caught both wrists, bringing them to his lips one at a time to kiss away the raw flesh.

There's no rush, he soothed, running his thumb across her newly healed palms. We'll have an extra six hours together, after all.

For that comment alone, Feyre tore straight through his jacket and undershirt, coming away with strips of cloth. The High Lord didn't seem to mourn his clothes in the least. She would have taken more time to admire him, to admire the tattoos that she discovered on his chest and shoulders, so strikingly similar to her own.

Except, he was staring up at her, raw delight on his face. So feral—

Shut up.

I'll need to subtract that from your—

I said. Feyre crawled up his body, tearing off her soaked underthings. Shut. Up.

Unfortunately, sitting on a male's face was only an effective silencing technique when that male wasn't a daemati.

What a pretty view, Rhys purred, craning his neck before she'd even finished lowering herself down. The second she was steady, her hands balanced on the headboard, he hooked his arms around her thighs to bring her closer. Here I thought you planned to punish me.

Congratulations, you've proved you can run your mouth. Do you actually know how to use it?

Rhys arched a brow. Even Feyre couldn't believe her own boldness. One of these days, she was going to overstep and find herself on the receiving end of that boundless power, and it wouldn't be teasing and caressing her the way it was doing now.

Don't be so certain. I like that you're not afraid of me.

The purr in his voice heated her blood, nearly as much as that first, filthy kiss he pressed against her cunt. He went slow, using the broad flat of his tongue to part her folds in a long path ending at her clit. That was where he focused his attention, sucking and lashing while he kept her hostage in his grip.

But if you're going to mouth off, he continued without faltering in his expert torture. Be prepared for the consequences.

This, Feyre gasped, doesn't feel like a consequence.

Yet, he said smugly. I have all night with you. And I intend to 'put my mouth to use' until I've had my fill.

She knew he was bluffing. Feyre could count on her hand the number of males who had put their heads between her thighs, and all of them disengaged after a few minutes into the act.

With a growl, Rhys redoubled his efforts. A word to the wise when fucking a daemati: try not to think of other males unless you want them dead.

Jealous?

Insufferably. He nuzzled his face lower, dragging his tongue to her entrance. Do you still remember their names?

No. Even if she did, she wouldn't have told him. On the chance that he wasn't joking when he said they'd end up dead.

Good.

His tongue slid inside her, and the headboard creaked from how tightly Feyre clutched to it, convinced she would topple over when his fingers slid between her legs to supplement his tongue, rubbing tight, delicious circles. Her hips bucked, her climax shattering through her at incredible speed, causing light to dot her vision.

Rhys didn't slow his movements, continuing to lick and stroke her as he crooned, There's only one name you need to remember.

They were still mind-to-mind, completely entangled. Paired with her mind-numbing pleasure, it made the task of searching through her memory rather tedious. It was like trying to navigate a familiar place in the dark, she knew the information was somewhere around here…

Cassian? She said, recalling the name she'd heard from the rumor mill with a great deal of effort.

Rhys growled. Very funny.

Her thighs, clamped tightly around his head, were beginning to twitch as he worked her towards another rapidly approaching edge. Feyre didn't think she could survive this all night.

Wh-what was it you said? If I can say this many words, then you must not be doing a very good—

Those hands at her thighs grabbed her roughly, pushing her off his face and flipping her onto her back in a single, fluid movement. Feyre yelped as one of those hands grabbed her throat, pinning her to the mattress.

You can't help yourself, can you, Feyre?

Not any more than you!

An exasperated laugh rasped out of him, making her think she had just proved his point.

What happened to having your mouth on me all night? She challenged.

I'm thinking I need to tire you out first. Get you a little more… subdued.

He withdrew his hand, then his body entirely. Feyre's mouth went dry as she watched him unbutton his trousers, finally freeing his erection. He had no right to be as big as he was. To be as beautiful and powerful and arrogant as he was and to still have a cock like that…

Feyre hated him a little bit for it. Hated how difficult it would be to walk away from him by the end of this.

Rhys sauntered forward, expression as satisfied as it ought to be with a cock like that swinging between his legs and unfiltered access to each of the filthy thoughts she was having about it.

There'll be time for more play later, he said, pressing a knee into the bed.

He crawled over to her, and she watched his eyes fall over her naked body, parted in invitation for his. The hunger on his face curbed into something softer, something she didn't know what to do with.

You're beautiful, he murmured, seconds before his mouth found hers in a deep, open kiss. He tasted of honey wine and her own arousal, an unexpectedly pleasant combination. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It struck me the moment I first saw you.

His bare skin was so warm against her own, each contact point jolting her with a feeling of rightness. They slotted so perfectly together, his cock nudging at her entrance as she wrapped her legs around his waist, their tongues moving together and their fingers locking so that there wasn't a single part of their bodies and souls that wasn't entwined as Rhys pushed himself in.

Then paused.

Feyre fought a snarl.

Tell me you want this, he said. Forget about the bargain. Tell me this is about more than the money.

I want this. Feyre pulled at him, clashing their noses together from how fiercely she clutched at his face. She pushed her heels into his muscular backside, trying to urge his hips deeper. I want you, Rhys.

He groaned, pushing his hips forward.

The stretch of him was exquisite. Feyre had never felt anything quite like it—the decadent pleasure made sharper by the slight burn as he pushed in further, slowly, ensuring she felt every inch, every delicious place they were joined.

But that was just one layer of the overlapping sensations. There was also the cradle of his body, surrounding her in warmth. The soft lips against her neck, panting sweet, reverent breaths of, Feyre—oh, Feyre.

And then their minds. One seamless, blended entity of magic, of starlight. She could feel him everywhere, no piece of her soul untouched, but she could see all of him, too. Like gazing upon the very fabric of his life, woven from the moment he was born—maybe even before then.

If she plucked at one of the threads, she wondered what she'd find. A memory? A vital fragment of his being?

She wouldn't dare, not when she could feel him staring back so… openly. Like he wouldn't stop her if she tried. It was vulnerable in a way she didn't know how to honor. In a way that made her wary.

You are… Feyre trailed off, failing to find a word that articulated what she saw, what she felt.

Perfect.

That snapped Feyre out of her awe. She blinked, refocusing on her physical body, where he was shaking as he held himself still, letting her adjust and…

And just staring at her. His lips parted open, mouthing a word she couldn't make out as his wild eyes darted over her, studying every detail.

Adequate, Feyre said, narrowing her eyes at him. I was going to go with 'adequate'.

For a moment, Rhys said nothing, his brows pinching together in confusion. And then he seemed to snap out of it, barking a laugh that echoed through the starry cavern of their minds.

I was talking about you, smartass. He leaned down, licking a stripe up her throat that sent ripples of pleasure down her spine. But allow me to demonstrate just how 'adequate' I can be.

He withdrew his hips, just slightly, then plunged them forward, grinding deep as Feyre clawed at his back, panting.

Rhys let out a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest. In their minds, it became a clap of thunder, his magic roiling, surrounding her in zapping, crackling power. Her hair stood on end, her pulse quickening from the thrill, like standing at sea during a storm.

She dug her nails harder, certain she was peeling back skin, and he snarled in encouragement, withdrawing and snapping his hips. Again.

I've thought about this, he rasped, punctuating his words with another hard thrust. Every damn day since our last bargain, Feyre.

He drove into her harder, relentless. Grunting, I haven't been able to get your scent out of my nose.

I haven't been able to get you out of my gods damned mind.

Those words rippled through the space between their minds, echoing his confession. Feyre rolled her hips up, begging him to go harder, faster. Trying to say, in her own way, that she couldn't stop thinking about him, either.

I thought—

His teeth grazed over her pulse, making it jump. Her breath hitched.

Go on, he said, voice molten velvet.

I thought I was supposed to be the one practicing my shields. But it's your mind that can't keep me out.

His laugh was rich, warming her bones. If you think I'm the one with all the power here, Feyre, you are mistaken.

Then, as if to disprove that very statement, he let go. Every restraint, every glamour, every attempt he made to act the average fae—it all disappeared in that moment.

Great, membranous wings unfurled behind his back, blanketing them in the scent of citrus and sea salt. With a splintering crack, his magic untethered, spilling darkness into the room.

Without her sight, it became impossible to differentiate between the mental and physical worlds. As if they existed in a liminal space between, where slapping skin became the thunderous collision of souls, crashing and merging together.

Feyre was certain she was screaming. She thought, distantly, he might have been too. Somewhere, her mortal body clenched around him, hot and fever-bright.

She heard her name, over and over, Feyre, Feyre, Feyre—

And then he shattered, too, shooting every star out of orbit, his magic flooding over her in wave upon wave. She should have been frightened, surrounded by so much unyielding power, but it felt oddly peaceful. Like diving into the sea from her dreams.

She floated through that presence, Rhys buried inside her, both of them panting.

When he withdrew, so did the magic.

It was too bright. Feyre cringed, burying her face into his heaving chest, not caring the least that he was covered in sweat and shaking. They both were.

When she finally pulled away, blinking into the light, she found a pair of stunned violet eyes blinking back. For the first time since meeting him, he looked dumbstruck, mouth opening and closing like he was floundering for words. Like maybe all daemati sex didn't feel that… world ending.

For a long moment, they only stared, catching their breath.

Feyre took the time to reconstruct her mental walls, finding it oddly empty inside her mind without his presence.

Meanwhile, Rhys rubbed a hand down his face, then his chest, feeling absently at his ribs. She wondered if she'd accidentally hit him there when everything went dark.

She felt a bit battered herself. Sticky and sweaty and sore in far too many places. Tomorrow he'd probably take pleasure in laying her out to count each of his bite marks.

"Was that adequate enough for you?" Rhys asked, finally breaking the silence.

Smug bastard.

Feyre shrugged. "You're the High Lord who's supposedly so difficult to please. You tell me."

He smirked. "Lay back, Feyre."

Her mouth popped open. Surely he wasn't serious.

"Already?"

Rhys crawled toward her, wedging his massive body between her thighs. "I told you I wouldn't stop until I've had my fill." He flashed her a wicked smile as he lowered his mouth to her cunt, licking at their shared spend like it was a delicacy.

And I'm not nearly close to finished with you.

-

At some point, they did stop fucking long enough to eat and bathe—just barely.

Rhysand was ravenous. And Feyre didn't know what had gotten into her, but she was, too. They couldn't stop. Even long after they were exhausted, they kept touching and kissing until they collapsed completely tangled in each other.

Feyre had gotten maybe an hour of sleep, if that, when she woke up to pee.

She took her time on the way back to bed, marveling first at the sleeping form of the most powerful High Lord. He didn't look nearly so intimidating when he was naked and snoring, the blankets strewn haphazardly over his muscular legs.

If she had the time, she would have liked to draw him like this. No one else in the world got to see this version of him.

Except the other females he bedded.

That… was a sobering thought. The reminder that this wasn't some sacred, meaningful tryst. He was paying to fuck her, no different from any other whore in the upscale pleasure house she heard he frequented often.

With burning cheeks, Feyre turned away from his sleeping form, refocusing on why she was here to begin with.

His personal bedroom was larger than the one she'd stayed in last time, though only slightly. He had a worktable, scattered with paperwork and curious trinkets. Star charts and models of planets and books upon books of topics she couldn't discern.

That was another scalding reminder of how far apart their worlds were.

She was really only good at one thing.

Feyre tiptoed to his bedside table, silently pulling the drawer open to inspect its contents. More books, a pair of reading glasses, a velvet box, and a dark crown that she assumed had wound up in here after a late night at some formal gathering.

She imagined Rhys winnowing directly to his bedroom, flinging the crown into the bedside drawer, and collapsing atop the mattress.

It couldn't be easy, this life.

Feyre lifted the crown, measuring its weight in her hands, before she indulged the childlike impulse to place it on her head.

It couldn't be hard, either. Better than starving. Better than whoring yourself to survive.

She rose from his bedside table, searching for a mirror to admire how she looked in a crown, but a hand at her wrist stopped her.

Rhys was reclined across his bed, wings splayed beneath him, a lazy smile stretched across his lips.

"Find something you like?"

Panic seized her chest, squeezing like a fist as she scrambled to think of an excuse. "I—"

His eyes darkened. "Come back to bed."

"Rhys, I'm—"

"Keep the crown on," he said, tugging at her wrist with urgency.

She followed his pull, uncharacteristically pliant as he positioned her thighs over his face, groaning, "Gods, look at you," as he dived his mouth between her legs.

-

The final six hours of their bargain passed much the same.

There wasn't any noticeable shift to the way Rhys touched her, still slow and indolent, like he had all the time in the world.

It was nearly dusk and they were still in bed, still kissing though too exhausted to do much else. Even so, his kiss was gentle and thorough and maddening.

Feyre missed it when he pulled away.

"Your bargain's fulfilled," he said, breathing heavy. "I can take you home now."

It was a bad sign that it was dread coursing through her instead of relief.

Rather than untangle her alarming mix of feelings, Feyre fisted her hands in his hair, urging his mouth back to hers. Just one more kiss. To remember him by.

Rhys made a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat. He returned the kiss open-mouthed, cradling the back of her head to bring her closer. When she felt him harden against her thigh, they both groaned.

Rhys withdrew again, something achingly hopeful in his expression. "There's nothing preventing you from staying," he added. "If you want to."

That was what scared her—that fact that she wanted to.

Feyre kissed him again. Kissing him was easier than answering. Only, Rhys seemed to take kissing as an answer. He shifted closer, wrapping his wing around them so that she was cocooned in his heat, his scent, his touch.

And as the kissing grew more fervid, she didn't stop him from flipping her onto her stomach. He used his knees to wedge her thighs apart, spreading her open as those strong hands found her hips, urging them up, up, up.

She buried her face in the mattress, already clutching tightly to the sheets in anticipation of that first, perfect thrust.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Rhysand." The voice was female—crisp and edged, entirely undaunted by the High Lord's responding snarl. "You're late."

"Leave us."

It was a direct, uncompromising order, and yet the knocking came again. Louder.

"We are not rescheduling this meeting again. I'm sure your playmate can survive without your cock for an hour."

Feyre was still pressed into the mattress, gaping at him over her shoulder at the way the female was speaking to him. At the way Rhysand was letting her speak to him.

And more so that he listened, turning to Feyre with an apologetic wince. "I need to go. But you can stay here." He paused, hesitating for a moment before adding, "I'd like for you to stay. I'll be back within the hour."

A cough on the other side caused him to blow out a long breath.

"Maybe two hours."

Feyre nodded, slumping into the mattress. Rhys pressed an apologetic kiss into a notch at the top of her spine, then the next. The next. He nearly made it to her ass before the door rattled with an irritated thump.

With a long-suffering sigh, Rhys lifted himself from Feyre's body. It was no easier than trying to lift a boat from the sea; they both felt heavier once they were separated.

"Rest," Rhysand said. "You'll need it when I'm back."

After less than an hour of sleep, the stack of pillows at the headboard was practically calling her name. Feyre made a show of nuzzling into them, wrapping the blankets around her as a surrogate for Rhysand's warmth.

She felt him staring at her. Heard the soft little hmph he made in the back of his throat. A pleased sound, like he enjoyed the sight of her nestled in his bed.

Then, with a wave of his hands, he was dressed, closing the door behind him. She heard him speak to the female on the other side, their voices too muffled to discern, but she could tell he was grumbling about something.

Feyre listened intently as those voices faded down the hall. She waited until she was certain they were gone.

Quietly, she crawled to the edge of the mattress and opened the bedside drawer. The crown had been tossed to the floor some time in the night, but the rest of the objects were still there.

Including that velvet box.

Feyre reached for it, parting it open with her fingers to confirm its contents.

From there, it took all of five minutes to slip on her clothes and bolt out of the town house without looking back.

[keichanreads]

tbh, I have been a fan of kim soo hyun during his dream high days. i have watched most of his shows. same with kim ji won. i have watched most of her work and I really liked the choices she made with what kind of characters she wants to portray. i like both ksh and kjw as individual actors. i have NEVER in my years of being a kdrama fan, ever thought if pairing them together and become this huge magnetic pair locally and internationally that everyone knows about their show and almost everyone wants them to be together irl. I have never thought I'll be this invested with another pairing's personal life again *sigh* I used to have this feeling with song song couple and i used to rewatch dots over the years. it's like my comfort kdrama. now, i am binge watching qot and i am excited when i see kjw or ksh post something. added points if their posts have some sort of relation to each other. i'd probably be devastated if they're not gonna be dating in real life but I'm still hoping but if not, I'm still going to be a big fan of them both. i know i sound very delusional (I'm sorry 😔) but the way they made me feel while watching them in queen of tears is beyond any other piece of media wñhas made me feel. so, i truly truly love both kim ji won and kim soo hyun as actors. regardless of their personal relationship, i am happy they're getting all the recognition they have right now. 🩷

[iris-sistibly]

GOD! EPISODE 13 IS BITTERSWEET, but I think this is by far the episode where like 80-90% of the scenes were happy. So I love it!

📍I knew they'd find nothing in the panic room, it's kinda frustrating but what's new? At least Hyun-woo had a back-up plan to fuck up Eun-seong and I can't wait for him and his mother to rot in jail. But WAIT--hear me out, if Seul-hee finds out that Eun-seong went to Germany to follow Hae-in, this bitch would be livid and since she sees every member of the Hong family as an obstacle, she'll most likely going to do something to eliminate Hae-in. What if Eun-seong sacrifices himself and dies in the process to save her, then Mo Seul-hee will lose her mind and she'd spend the rest of her remaining days locked up in a mental asylum, alone and lonely. I think that would be a perfect ending for her and Eun-seong don't y'all think?

📍Aunt Beom-ja and hubby number 4 moments, Hae-in and Mama Hong slowly rebuilding their relationship, Baek and Hong parents being besties, Soo-cheol continuing to stand up for his family...I appreciate these little family moments so much I just don't want it to end.

📍Team QOT be blessing us with lots and lots of BaekHong moments!!! Ah, I feel so spoiled as a fan, I never considered their divorce as legit, but more like they went back to the way they were...you know, carefree, happy, being so in-love, making great memories. I love that they re-created the honeymoon scene in episode 1, then the first OST to ever be released (The Reasons of my Smiles by BSS) started playing in the background, it felt so nostalgic to me.

📍I also love the fact that Hae-in's parents, especially her mom didn't argue when Hae-in decided to move-in with Hyun-woo in his apartment. It feels like they are finally giving their full support and blessing for BaekHong to become a married couple. Also, those hubby and wifey moments made me smile a lot!

📍But Hyun-woo once again going above and beyond to make Hae-in happy 🥹🥹🥹 hubby really made the "snow fall in October" so wifey could witness it first hand, then hearing his most genuine laugh when Hae-in confessed that he was his first love was just the best. Those scenes were just so good it made me wish that they could stay like that.

📍But of course, those happy moments won't last because well...who says we can have it all? Now, if this was a typical Kdrama and the lead character would be put in Hae-in's situation, normally we could expect the lead character to take the risk and the other lead as well the people on their side would help her remember or perhaps create new memories. However, I do appreciate the fact that Park Ji-eun didn't romanticize that kind of situation but instead gave us the reality of how complicated it is to be in Hae-in's shoes. It's easy to say, "Oh it's fine Hyun-woo's gonna help her remember," and this guy bless his heart would be willing to do that, but what about Hae-in?

As much as I really, really want her to get the surgery, I do understand why she refused after finding out about the possible side effects. It's not just about losing her memories, it's about losing her loved ones. It's so fucking cruel because if she doesn't take the surgery, they'll lose her, if she does then it's the other way around. She could wake up becoming a completely different person, forgetting about how much she loves her family, her husband and it will hurt them really badly. She loves Hyun-woo so much that she doesn't want to lose that love she has for him in exchange for extending her life. If she loses that love, then what's the point of living? I still do hope for some miracle though, because she deserves to live a long life with Hyun-woo.

ANYWAY, Since episode 14 is coming up I am mentally and emotionally preparing myself for a pretty painful episode. Next week is finale week and I hope, I REALLY hope that BaekHong will get a happy ending they both deserve.

[parisofpeoplez]

Binged on this week's QoT episodes in one sitting and I have thoughts!

I know the cool rich auntie was one of the good ones! She has literally shown more motherly love to Haein than her own mother.

Speaking of, I understand that she was grieving the loss of her son, but how is it fair to put the blame of his death on her daughter??!!! Yes her son died saving his sister, but it's not like Haein wanted that to happen. Like Haein said, it was an accident. I'm assuming they will reveal more of what exactly happened in the later episodes. And I also feel like that was no accident, someone wanted to kill Haein as a way to harm her grandfather, but her brother died instead. The whole incident is a bit fishy but we shall see.

I'm glad that Hyun woo finally came to the realisation that he still cares about Haein and does not want her to die. Up until ep 4 I was literally going, Baek Hyun woo do better! Thank God he listened.

I love how he got the hospital to treat her! Like don't you dare mess with my wife because I will sue the shit out of you and make sure that I win the case!! Damn that was hot of him haha!

Haein talking about dying was just too depressing like this precious baby deserves to live, unlike those four evil people that are out to destroy her and Hyun woo's happiness!

Speaking of, I have so many theories about them! The sister in law and the Hercyna guy might be siblings, but all that DNA test talk made me sus. What if they are lovers and the kid is actually theirs and no Soo-cheol's? Damn I would love that twist haha. I don't know how I feel about Soo-cheol yet to decide if I pity him or not. The grandfather's girlfriend has been sus from the beginning and that background info that Beom ja got is also very shady. What if the mystery son that she gave birth to is actually the Hercyna guy? What is happening here?

And this masseuse lady...what the fuck is her deal? What does he want? I hate her damn face she's so fucking annoying. Bitch die.

Also all these family scenes get kinda boring sometimes. Sometimes i just don't care about the family dynamics, especially Hyun woo's family. Up until now I feel like they haven't really contributed much to the plot. I hope that changes soon given the amount of screwn time they're getting in every episode.

Coming back to our couple, the juxtaposition of the four leaf clovers lying on the ground and Hae-in's world literally falling apart....it was heartbreaking.

But I'm glad that this secret came out now. I was loving all of their cute moments but dreading Haein finding out about the divorce. Now that that's out, they will hopefully both deal with this revelation early on and build their relationship again without any secrets. I didn't want them to fall in love again just for this to come out in the later episodes. Because honestly healing from that would have been difficult to sell to the audience later on compared to now when it's early days in finding their way back to each other.

[baekhvuns]

Every app is going downhill I can't stand this 🤡 I made a new acc and so far it's working, but we'll see... 

Mentally I'm still in January I think, even though I'm so happy winter is over the passage of time is crazy. LET'S SLOW DOWN FOR A SECOND??? Actually scratch that, I still remember last year when I was also in SK, wtfff. 

Work is fine, it's more boring than I anticipated, can't say it's very fulfilling, but I'm apparently good at it and the salary is good enough. It's not permanent since idk what to do with my life after this year sjsjdkajksakkaaajsja. I like having weeks off, but sometimes I still have to answer emails or KKT messages, so I can't always relax freely. But that's howy life has been for the past few years, it's nothing new is just that Koreans are workaholics 😭😭😭 and I'm not

It's gonna be really hot soon in Korea, but don't worry I don't get sunburnt easily since I'm not a total mayo cracker, but I got some good SPF! I was in Jeju for the weekend with some friends who came to visit, my period is late so I had an undisturbed time, but now I'm dying. Hurry the fuck up if I'm in pain anyway!

I need to catch up on QoT, I also started Lovely Runner, I've been watching more TV recently using the opportunity to watch kdramas on TV, old school style 😂

Nooooo, 89 people?! Almost 69 😌 so what can we do to eliminate your opponents? 

I'm definitely coming to Quebec again, hopefully no one will be giving birth this time! But I may visit other places, so be on a lookout for me 👀 - DV 💖

hello!!!

Every app is going downhill I can't stand this 🤡 I made a new acc and so far it's working, but we'll see... /// Mentally I'm still in January I think, even though I'm so happy winter is over the passage of time is crazy. LET'S SLOW DOWN FOR A SECOND??? Actually scratch that, I still remember last year when I was also in SK, wtfff. 

welcome to your first day at tumblr ☺️ ur so right bc why is everything messing up, ever since e*on took over twitter it’s been downhill for everyone ,,, RIGHT??? LETS SLOW DOWWWN like how’d we go from jan to may 15 already 🤨

Work is fine, it's more boring than I anticipated, can't say it's very fulfilling, but I'm apparently good at it and the salary is good enough. It's not permanent since idk what to do with my life after this year sjsjdkajksakkaaajsja. I like having weeks off, but sometimes I still have to answer emails or KKT messages, so I can't always relax freely. But that's howy life has been for the past few years, it's nothing new is just that Koreans are workaholics 😭😭😭 and I'm not

you know what at least we’re getting the cash, oh i thought it was permanent!! BDNWDKSKDL back to britian next year are we 😭😭 AAAAAA you won but with minimal cost? i hope you made friends tho while ur there or are they really big workaholics that they don’t associate with anyone or have cliques?

It's gonna be really hot soon in Korea, but don't worry I don't get sunburnt easily since I'm not a total mayo cracker, but I got some good SPF! I was in Jeju for the weekend with some friends who came to visit, my period is late so I had an undisturbed time, but now I'm dying. Hurry the fuck up if I'm in pain anyway!

EEEEEE ur gonna be wearing those bucket hats with a net lining??? hands covered in those gloves and sleeve covers 😭😭😭 MAYO CRACKERDHKWHDSK NAURRRR IS IT HERE YET 😭😭😭 i started mine the day u sent this ask and i just sneezed and it went niagara falls down there,, hope ur well tho! pls keep drinking wotah

u know what ive been curious, when u speak, so u speak in the brit’ish accent bc i sometimes read your ask in that way 😭😭

I need to catch up on QoT, I also started Lovely Runner, I've been watching more TV recently using the opportunity to watch kdramas on TV, old school style 😂

omg yOu HAVENT CAUGHT UP YET??? 🔫 finished it, sobbed my eyes out. omg i also started lovely runner and it’s SO CUTE??? mr byun wrecking me in acting world and the other mr byun in the idol world old school style omg 😭😭😭

Nooooo, 89 people?! Almost 69 😌 so what can we do to eliminate your opponents? /// I'm definitely coming to Quebec again, hopefully no one will be giving birth this time! But I may visit other places, so be on a lookout for me 👀 - DV 💖

we can be an absolute menace and 🔫🔫 OH QUEBEC??? state of ignorant fake frenchies 🥰 LMFAOOOO PLS HOPEFULLY NO ONE OF UR FRIENDS BIRTHS IN QUEBEC PLS HDNSDSK i will be on a look out 👀 if ur coming to avo uni next year summer, might see me walk the stage 😧 if ur coming this summer i better go white rock for the sunsets ‼️ absolutely gorgeous sky with wavy waters

[onlyswan]

Hi artie, it's been a long time since I've checked in :( I just done with my.shit ton of exams so I have an entire month of free time (!!!) All I'm doig is cooking myself good food and reading a LOT LOT LOT since I love to read fictions and I couldn't read anything this year because of the exams :// Also, I binged watched My demon in two days :D And I have once again, a huge crush on Kangie <33 He's such a cutie. Queen of Tears came as well!! I also love Kim Soohyun from the bottom of my heart, since it's okay to not be okay!! Are you gonna watc QOT?? This has been going on so far. I applied to some tuition jobs tho and hoping to hear back soon <3 You're busy too, I assume? How's life going so far? Whatcha upto these day?

hiii baby !!! so proud of you and i hope you enjoy your break to the fullest 🥰 i can’t wait to catch up on my reading and watching list once my exams are over too me jelly :[ my demon was so fun i’m glad you watched it !! he definitely got me in a chokehold too 🫢 and omg yesyesyes queen of tears !!! it’s been so good so far i love both kim soohyun and kim jiwon so i’m like the happiest person in kdramaland rn :P can it be the weekend again already!!!

yes :((( just the word busy makes me want to crawl into a hole and hidehdjdhdjshf get uni away from me please. i’m so overwhelmed with tasks and juggling it with work and my social life. but as always i’ll somehow manage and make it out alive 🫡 because i’m happy and sad at the same time :") i’m at my peak lover girl

[mymostimaginaryfriend]

Chris Greene, Hemky Madera, Alimi Ballard and Alice Braga BTS of 4x01: Bienvenidos A Nueva Orleans

[la-ermitana]

From Jenny’s Instagram

04.06.2022 📸

[rethesun]

.

[jerepars]

James loved Teresa even when she was hard to love, which made Teresa think the love they were both capable of had grown with them over time.

(This is in the same universe as Plant Sugar, set a little more than a year after that story. There are several things mentioned that call back to that story, so it’s best to read that first. However, this should still be readable overall even without it.)

[northcountry39]

Alice Braga from Darren Grant’s instagram

[sitp-recs]

Hidden Gems by @queenofthyme

All hail QoT! Such an incredible writer with a variety of charming fics that you can check here - and if you’re looking for something longer may I suggest her angsty 8th year The Softer Side of Draco Malfoy? But Mondays are for happy tales and because I couldn’t choose just 5 here are 7 treats to make your week light and sweeter. I love QoT’s sense of humor, her clever plots, the perfect banter and sweet get together. The reads below are light, fun, soft and easy, and they will leave you craving for more! They deliver brilliant takes on beloved tropes and I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I do. Happy Monday!

The 9 Times Harry Potter Rescued Draco Malfoy (2017, T, 930 words) - amazing short, fun and cute get together

Draco Malfoy keeps getting jinxed and Harry Potter keeps rescuing him. Draco isn't happy about it.

Purple, Peach and Vibrant Green (2018, T, 3.6k) - Muggle AU, identity porn, fake relationship

Draco Malfoy has a waiter pretend to be his date to impress an ex. Of course, it helps when that waiter is exceedingly attractive and happens to be Harry Potter.

Florean Fortescue The Third (2018, T, 5k) - delightful humor, banter & flirting, Amortentia, Veritaserum, get together with some meddling

Florean Forestcue The Third or "GET IT FORTESCUE BOY" follows the story of the grandson of Florean Fortescue and his attempts to run his ice cream parlour in peace. When new regulars, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, begin to shamelessly flirt with him, Florean the third uses his grandfather's famous flavours and his own quick powers of deduction to stop both customers bothering him once and for all. Read my rec here.

Harry Potter Can't Sleep (And Neither Can Draco Malfoy) (2017, T, 5k) - 8th year fluff, comfort, insomniac boys + bed sharing

Harry Potter might have the key to help Draco Malfoy sleep, and if Draco Malfoy sleeps, maybe Harry Potter can finally get some sleep too. The answers lies in Harry Potter's pillow covers.

Cold Like Fire (2018, M, 12k) - my personal favourite! Head Auror Harry, lecturer Draco, slow burn, enthusiastic consent

Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was. Now, he had no idea how he was going to get through the training without throwing a hex at Draco Malfoy. Or a punch. Read my rec here.

Is Draco Malfoy a Werewolf? (Or does Harry Potter just want any excuse to obsess over him?) (2020, E, 14k) - case fic, suspicious Harry + smooth Draco (always a fave!), Auror Hermione, enemies to lovers, lots of UST!

When a tip-off suggests Draco Malfoy is conspiring with werewolves to launch a coordinated attack on the Ministry of Magic, Auror Harry Potter insists on leading the investigation, but he’s not prepared for what he’ll discover.

How to Apologise to Harry Potter in 10 Days (2016, T, 18k) - awkward boys getting together, light angst, Auror Harry, slow burn with epistolary teasing!

Draco Malfoy decides to apologise to Harry Potter, but finds himself falling into old familiar patterns instead. All he needs to do is say two little words. Why is it so hard? Read my rec here.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hey vobali, I love your QoT fic with Stella. Might I request for continuation fic where Stella meets the rest of the Poppy. MC convince everyone to let her to stay with them. Stella ended up growing on the Poppy that they decide to teach her and also very protective of her.

Part 1

Written by @vobali

"Wait! Waaaiiit! I want to come with you!"

I freeze. She... what? A look to Vivienne tells me she's at a loss for words as well. We've had this discussion before - whether we'd want kids or not - and we ended up with wanting none. But I just can't destroy the hope in Yvonne's eyes. Vivienne, as always, senses that I have trouble to form a response and jumps in.

"I doubt that it's safe for you to come with us."

"Pleeeeaaaase.... I'll... I'll be good! I've been alone for as long as I remember and I don't want to be alone..."

She lets go off me and pulls my wife's hips into a tight hug.

"I... I want to learn! Please..."

Viv goes stiff. I know how she responds to touch, so I prepare myself to intervene. But surprisingly it turns out to be unnecessary because she relaxes a little and puts a gentle hand onto the girl's head.

"Listen... Besides the danger you would get into we can't decide alone. We are a group of seven."

"That's amazing! I always wanted a family!"

Yvonne is excited beyond measure. Her face lights up with the biggest smile I've ever seen as she spins around and looks at us. Her eyes are big, hopeful, shining with pure joy. I melt. This girl was cute before but now... she's just adorable. A look to my wife confirms that she also fell for Yvonne. It's true that I warned Vivienne up, that she opens up more easily now, but it's still hard for anyone else to get to her heart. How this little girl broke through her walls so easily? I can see it's frightening her but she's not making the same mistake that she did with me. She's not pushing her away. Adoration shines in her eyes when Yvonne takes both of our hands, swinging them. With a small smile I speak out her thoughts.

"Alright... Let's ask the others."

...

"No. This is no life for a child."

Vivienne and Yvonne went up to the roof to pay Jett a visit so I have to face the arguments from the rest.

"She already has a life similar to ours, Niko! She has nowhere to go and could end up in the system, given from one family to another until she 'can take care of herself'. Or worse... without moral guidance, which we can provide, she could end up like Nadia and I won't let  THAT happen!"

"You have a point there, chérie, but our lifestyle IS dangerous. Jett is working with explosives..."

"Not only explosives, Remy!"

"Also... we've found ourselves on more than one occasion in a really close situation - Céline, Nadia, Bernicio... just to name a few."

"For god's sake, Zoe! Do you really think I'd put a seven-year-old girl up front?"

"It's not just that, MC. Zoe's examples came directly for us. Others might come for her instead to hurt us. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, remember?"

I close my eyes with a sigh.

"I understand your concerns, Leon, all of your concerns. I really do. But Yvonne has a talent... she just needs training, guidance. All I ask of you is your trust, one week and-!"

We get interrupted by loud laughter as Jett enters the room with Yvonne on his shoulders followed by Vivienne.

"Hey, folks. Have you met this little thing yet? She's incredible! She almost got me... luckily, I turned around at the right time otherwise I would've lost my wallet without even noticing! Can we keep her?"

"Wait... what?"

I throw an amused look at Yvonne while the others check their pockets, realizing that all of them got pickpocketed by a seven-year-old.

"My... my phone!"

"My wallet!"

"MY wallet!"

"My keys!"

Jett laughs so hard that the girl shakes with his laughter, grinning proudly. Vivienne can't help but chuckle as well while she comes to my side.

"Believe me... I know exactly how you feel. Though, if I'm being honest, I'm not surprised you didn't find out sooner. She got a lot better since she stole MY wallet almost two weeks ago."

Yvonne gets back on the ground, returns the stolen items, settles in front of Vivienne and me with a small smile and all eyes are on us. It's Nikolai who speaks first after a few minutes of silence.

"Fine. One week."

But despite his earnest tone he can't hide this small, slightly impressed smirk that pulls on his lips.

...

The Poppy adapts quite quickly to the idea of having a child around. Yvonne is good at practically everything! Jett loved her from the start but he really enjoys to co-teach her how to paint, Remy likes his role as language tutor alongside Vivienne, Zoe adores Yvonne's enthusiasm to learn new things in general, Nikolai is impressed of her eye for strategy and Leon, our sweet and gentle giant, is more than happy to take care of the simple playtime and cuddle parties. And even Elisabeth is around Yvonne as often as possible.

It's the evening before the week is over and a final decision has to be made. Vivienne and I have talked about this multiple times within the last few days - we want to keep her. Although we agreed on not wanting children, we can't picture our lives without Yvonne anymore. I know it deep inside my heart that this is the girl I'd call "daughter" and I know Vivienne feels the same way.

I take my time putting Yvonne to bed. She asked me not to leave so I stayed, humming a lullaby, stroking her hair until she fell asleep. I stand up as careful and as quiet as I can and place a soft kiss onto her forehead.

"Good night, little one."

I whisper before I leave the room. Outside, the others are already waiting for me.

"I'm sorry. It took longer than I expected..."

"Don't be, darling! We can wait. I suppose she's asleep now?"

I nod, give Vivienne a quick kiss and listen to the conversation, mostly fun or cute stories with Yvonne.

"I found a solution to our problem with the next heist."

"You did? Tell us, Niko!"

"Well... to be honest... it was Yvonne's idea. I would never have thought of it that way. The simplicity of a child's point of view really is astonishing! Oh! By the way... I got there something..."

He rises and places a small box in front of me. I open it carefully. My breath hitches as I reveal the earring inside.

"A... a little poppy!"

"I think I speak for all of us when I say 'we all want Yvonne to stay'."

Nikolai says with a smile.

"Woohoo! Hell yes, Niko! You're goddamn right! And anyone who dares to TRY harming her..."

"... will regret that they even THOUGHT of it in the first place!"

[teresa-moyocoyotzin]

QOTS 5.09 “I Love You” Scenes Meta

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 5.09 OF QUEEN OF THE SOUTH ABOUND

Okay this is basically just me trying to place James and Teresa’s ILY scenes within the larger context of their relationship and other kisses, and analyzing their respective reactions!

(Also just a disclaimer that obviously this is just one fan’s interpretation, there’s no right or wrong here! This is just how I see it and hopefully it’ll connect w some of y’alls insight too!)

Oh boy okay so I’m just gonna do this in the style of my old Bolivia visions meta b/c I think the best in bullet point form, so we’re just gonna go thru the scenes like super in depth, w/ way more detail than necessary. Think of it as a close reading, but instead of a piece of writing, it’s a tv show, and it has no sources except My Opinions lol

I’m still planning to actually write out my reactions to the whole episode when I re-watch it, but I can’t stop picking apart the I Love You scenes b/c honestly there’s so much going on there! Come on y’all this has been building since the second episode of this show there’s a lot to unpack here. I’m mostly focusing on how these kisses are vastly different from any of their other kisses IMO and how that affects the love confessions!

THIS IS GONNA BE UNNECESSARILY LONG AND NOT VERY ORGANIZED, BE WARNED

Let’s start when James says “You wouldn’t let me do it, so why should I let you?” shall we? B/c THIS MOMENT

SO as others have pointed out, this line really feels like a love confession in and of itself, and I’m sure if they hadn’t confessed their feelings in the same scene we would all be obsessing about it. I low-key am anyways..

Sure they’ve acknowledged that they do things to protect each other etc. etc. but this is really James making sure that she knows that he knows that SHE knows that they both feel the same way, and he’s not dancing around it anymore, not when she’s throwing herself into danger yet again. Teresa doesn’t have an answer, but it does make something click in her brain. No matter what moral code she’s following these days, if James was walking into a death trap like that she wouldn’t want him to go and would try to stop him. And right now, he’s feeling the same thing for her, he knows that she cares as much about him as he cares about her and that it’s a LOT, and he’s telling it straight to her face.

When she kisses him, I think it’s an acknowledgment of that, as well as her sort of trying to return the sentiment. And also, she doesn’t have a good answer to his question and wants to kiss him so she does!! James is clearly surprised by the kiss, as evident by his posture and slowly relaxing into the kiss. But THEN

After James’ brain catches up, he kisses her again, and even tho it’s short it looks to me like a pretty powerful, strong kiss!!?? (hard to tell b/c as usual…. they filmed it in a black hole..) and to me, it reads like he really let all his true feelings come through in that kiss POSSIBLY FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER

Now, lemme explain. Their first kiss in 3.05 was undeniably full of feelings and emotions, and I’m sure that night was super passionate and full of love! However, knowing what we know now about how everything plays out, I don’t think they were really at the point of saying ILY yet. Even if they did both love each other then, and I think they did, they had a lot of trust issues and abandonment issues to work through first. And as we all know, after that night everything goes to shit and they go about 12 steps backwards. My main point here is that I think both James and Teresa are still feeling generally unsure about each other’s feelings during their first kiss. This is also true for.. literally all of their kisses? Until now. Because in 3.09, they’re just super horny from taking over Phoenix but Teresa is just barely getting over Guero’s death in that episode.. I think that kiss was more about them feeling like the King and Queen of phoenix and less about their Actual Feelings (just imo obviously). And then they kiss after Teresa gets back form Bolivia but Teresa is suspecting him then and he’s certainly feeling her hesitation so no big feelings in that kiss either. Then of course there’s the goodbye kiss at the end of s3, and yes in that one I do think they were both letting their true feelings show in their kiss but they were both misinterpreting the other’s feelings and both were in a way lying to the other in that scene. James about his reason for leaving, and Teresa about her true reasons for wanting him to stay. And THEN, the kiss at the beginning of s5 is very much a “I’m happy you’re back, I want to be with you, but we can’t” kind of kiss, and again, there were feelings there but they were both still holding something back, and still not on the same page about what they wanted and were working towards. But in this kiss, they are on the same page , working toward the same thing, which is to get themselves OUT, together. Ever since they made that decision, there is an implicit agreement between them that they’re getting out together, and I think they both know that they want to be together if they make it out. And they both are desperate to have the other know their feelings before any potential deaths. However, they don’t really KNOW that they’re on the same page until that KISS.

SO ALL THIS TO SAY that in my eyes, the main reason Teresa’s so shocked is that this is the first time that James didn’t hold ANY of his love for her back when he kissed her, and she FELT IT babeyy. Teresa initiates this kiss to show him her true feelings, which takes him bit by surprise, but then he returns the feelings Full Force which takes Teresa totally by surprise.

I mean just look at her face after they part, before he says ILY. She looks shocked and confused, almost a little angry? I don’t think it’s really anger though, so much as it is being taken aback by the emotions that James is laying all out on the table for her to clearly see. Her face here is actually what drove me to write this meta, because at first I was so confused as to why she looked so shook up after the first kiss, cuz like girl U INITIATED IT?? I think part of it is that Teresa was a bit taken aback by the strength of her own feelings in that moments and the urge to kiss him despite them not being out of the business yet. She’s realized that if she’s gonna die tomorrow, she wants to kiss James first, and she wants that like, really bad. And also she loves him and was overcome w the urge to show him. But mainly, I really don’t think she expected to be met w/ such strong love from James’ kiss, because all the other times, he had been holding back his feelings.

James’ face after the kiss totally plays into this theory for me - he looks like he just got CAUGHT. She’s looking at him like what the Fuck was that!!! And he’s like oh SHit now I just gotta say it. The way he looks at her and shakes his head a little like, wow I’m really about to say it. I think it’s been on the tip of his tongue all episode, but he realized he just totally showed his hand with that kiss and there’s no going back now.

But omg you guys his face when he says it just SENDS ME TO THE FLOOR his little smile???? Like he’s thinking “how did we end up here? am I really about to tell Teresa I love her? YEP”

I don’t think she had any intention of telling him her feelings so outright yet, to me it totally makes sense that he tells her first. At the beginning of the season, Teresa made it clear that she does want to be with James, but she felt restricted by their life. So, James has spent the past season coming to terms with a) that Teresa still wants to be with him if they can get out of the business, b) that she’s changed a lot and no longer follows her old moral code, and c) that he still loves her even if she’s not entirely the same person he fell in love with originally.

Meanwhile Teresa came to terms w/ the fact that she wanted to be w/ him early in the season but pushed that Right down after indulging in 1 kiss (which I think was also meant to be a reassurance that she did want to be with him) but spent the rest of the season trying to grow her business, which in her mind would forever keep her from being able to be with James. So even if she acknowledged her feelings, she was not letting herself dwell on them. James, however… oh boy has he been dwelling. Especially since Dumas so kindly pointed his feelings out to him lol. So I think Teresa’s strong feelings for James have been building under the surface but she wasn’t allowing herself to acknowledge them at all, and therefore I think she kind of surprised herself a bit by kissing him, was then even more surprised by how strongly her feelings were showing, and then James hits her with a Big Feelings kiss and then an I Love You??? Oh boy

Taking this into account it totally makes sense that she looks super shocked after James tells her, even if they both have ~known~ for a long time. Y’know?

Okay so then there’s the sex scene which I LOVED omg, like absolutely zero complaints, super hot, exactly what they and we deserved. I’m not gonna get into it b/c I think it speaks for itself, but like, would happily read a meta about it if someone wrote it 👀

Anyways I think the morning after, when Teresa is laying in bed admiring James, is when Teresa is really digesting all of these feelings and the fact of them being out in the open, and she’s deciding that she needs to tell James she loves him, like ASAP. She is also at the same time having to accept that she’s going on a super dangerous mission today that she night not come back from, and if she does come back from it, they’re gonna have to still find a way Out. All in all, safe to say she’s got a lot going on in her mind, but it’s clear by her gazing at him that James is a big factor in all of it.

I love the next scene so much omg

They’ve gotten ready for the day and James is once again pulling tricks out of his bag to ensure her safety, and she’s just.. staring at him. My personal headcanon here is that Teresa’s intuition was telling her that a) the phonegun was gonna be irrelevant, and b) that she had about 30 seconds before her phone rang and she had to leave for potential death. Therefore it just blocked out literally everything but James and needing to tell him that she loved him. The moment I love the most is actually when James says “Here, try it” and he steps closer and she sort of jolts like they’re physically connected. The first time I saw the scene I literally gasped from that one step he takes because they just had this electric pull between them that was so obvious that I literally felt it. The chemistry!!!!

She’s just so focused on him in that moment and that whole scene, and the way she whispers “I love you” likes she just HAS to say it, she has to make sure he KNOWS she loves him before she runs off to risk her life. And the fact that it happens while James is actively trying to set her up for protection??? POETIC CINEMA I tell you. Kudos to Alice for that because apparently it was her idea and it’s my FAVE

Another thing that I really don’t know how to interpret but I find interesting from a cinematic point of view: James and Teresa are literally left in the dark during James’ love confession. It’s at night, and there is NO DAMN LIGHT AT ALL ON THEIR FACES (I bet the gif makers really appreciated that one huh…) so we can’t even see their reactions very well. Meanwhile, when Teresa confesses her feelings, it’s super brightly lit, in a white room, she’s wearing white, we can see all of the emotions on their faces. IDK what this is meant to symbolize exactly, so if anyone has thoughts PLEASE share them.

James seems a little in shock after, I think he really didn’t expect her to say it, even if he assumed she felt the same. And I think he was okay w/ that and had accepted it, knowing it would be really hard for her to say. After all, once she acknowledges it, it’s that much more painful if they have to say goodbye…

I think the way she says it perfectly captures how hard it is for her to get the words out, even if she feels an overwhelming urge to say them and make sure he knows. She seems very sure of her feelings, and I don’t think she hesitated to tell him at all, but it’s still a big step, and presumably the last person she said ILY to, in this context, was Guero. And his death destroyed her, so ofc she’s be scared to admit that she’s in love and put herself at the risk of losing it again. God Alice did such a good job w/ that line it really gets me every time. So sure, and soft, but with no room for doubt. Like she knows he doesn’t expect her to say it, but she can’t bear to let him think she doesn’t love him back. And it’s so simple too, like she’s saying “of COURSE I love you, how could you think I don’t?” AHHHH

And just the way she stares at him the whole time like she’s just waiting for him to stop talking so she can say it, and while she waits she’s perfectly happy to ignore the situation at hand and think about how she loves him and he loves her and also probably how good he FUCKS cuz like……………y’all saw his hand goin’ down there after he flips her over right 👀 okay ANYWAYS

So she finally tells him!!!!!! That she loves him!!! And kisses him!! Just to really drive the point home. And because, again, I think something was telling Teresa to kiss her man and tell him she loves him because she was about to get a call from Kostya’s men any second.

I really think James’ sort of blank look after she tells him is just him being in shock that she actually said it. I would have loved to know what he would have said after that, but alas.

That final shot before the phone rings though ❤️ their foreheads together, her hand on his heart and his hand on her hand, also the way that visually her arm (clothed in white) is across his body (clothed in black/gray) and vice versa w/ his arm is across her body, sort of continuing the sort of yin-yang theme they have going this season, I just think is a cool touch on the behalf of whoever choreographed/directed the scene.

I also interpret it as a very grounding moment for both of them, rooted in physical touch but not sexual in any way, just comforting. They finally can completely take comfort in each other because their feelings are out in the open and they’re completely connected. AGH they really have me in a chokehold lol

Anyways this is so fucking long and rambly, I don’t know if it makes sense but I did my best to proofread, I’m so sorry but thank you for reading if you’ve made it all the way here, or like even if you made it thru 1/16 of it lol I APPRECIATE YOU

I’m not sure what the main point is here, but anyways I think the actors, writers, directors, etc. did an amazing job w/ their I Love You scenes and I’m personally feeling v satisfied w/ it!

[ablindingsupernova]

QotS 5.09

I almost forgot to do a write-up for this episode, I was so busy looking at and reblogging gifsets of THAT scene. 

But I think my feelings on this episode can be mostly boiled down to:

LOVED all of the Jeresa. HATED all of the Kote. And it pains me to write that because I genuinely liked Pote and Kelly Anne as characters. I was mostly ambivalent about their romance but that quickly turned to irritation and dislike when SO MUCH screen time was devoted to their expectant parents storyline. 

I Just. Don’t. Care. And I’ll never understand why the writers thought this was a good idea. What fans are that invested in either of their characters that they would want to watch this?

And I was left scratching my head a bit over Devon wanting to move forward with assassinating Kostya after he found out he was a diplomat. How much of a threat was he that Devon would risk an international incident. A Russian diplomat being killed on US soil. Especially with no proof to offer that he was a crime lord. And unless I misunderstood, it didn’t seem that Devon knew in advance that Teresa was going to use the same poison to take him out, so no plan to blame it on the Russians themselves going in. I did enjoy the poetic justice of Teresa using that method to kill him, and the look on Kostya’s face when she said, “but you’re already dead”. It would’ve been nice to have spent more time with Kostya as a character to really savor that moment, but I can be happy with how it played out.

THAT scene. I never, in a million years, believed we would get that kind of jeresa this season. I was shocked when they kissed at the bar, so you can imagine my surprise at the love scene. And I thought the scene itself was so well done. All the smiles and tenderness blended in with the passion that’s been brimming between them since James left. Peter and Alice really do sell the depth of their connection to and love for one another. 

And then coming full circle, with James “killing” Teresa as it happened in the pilot. What so many of us have been speculating came to pass and since we all know she isn’t really dead, it was so satisfying. I’ve always wondered why James (and the sniper, before it was confirmed to be James) shot the box of cocaine on Teresa’s dresser. She wasn’t standing anywhere near it when she was hit. I suppose it could’ve been intended as a metaphor but it seems pointless in real time. After seeing the morgue scene in the promo, I’m now wondering if it wasn’t cocaine at all, but some drug to slow her breathing and heart rate so much as to mimic death. I may be overthinking that and I won’t be surprised if in this case, a cigar really is a cigar, but I like the idea that James had to blast the “cocaine” in order to make sure no one else would try to use it later and kill themselves. 

I’m not thrilled by the prospect of getting very little Teresa in the series finale. I’m hoping that we’ll get flashbacks of conversations between them that will show how they were planning to get out this way all along. Otherwise, I’ll be disappointed if we only see her for a moment at the very end of the show, especially when it feels like she didn’t get as much screen time as she should have through the season. 

Three days until the end. I’m not sure I’m ready to say goodbye. :-(

[remys-lucky-franc]

Kissing Promts Request - Remy x MC (QOT)

#40 - A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.

Written from MC POV

~1300 words

Again, it’s not totally nsfw, but these kissing prompts are lending themselves to somewhat racier writing than I usually post - so, that was your warning if that’s not your fic preference, folks 💕

[MORE] [[MORE]]

The Poppy’s latest heist has just finished: relieving an undeserving London-based oligarch of his extensive art collection. As Nikolai said when we toasted in celebration last night, ‘it’s been a somewhat protracted endeavour, but all really very satisfying and worthwhile’. It’s taken several months to complete and has been a particularly challenging and tiring escapade, so we’ve all decided that some downtime to rest and recharge before the next heist begins would do us some good.

Remy and I decided to head back to France as soon as we could, to the chocolate-box cottage we bought outside the city dubbed by Remy as ‘Château Chevalier’ - our little love nest: where we escape to when we want to spend some time alone - just us - secluded from the world in our perfect domestic bliss. It’s not as large or grand a space as the moniker suggests, but it fits us so wonderfully: a modern open plan kitchen and living area, a beautiful master bedroom and a smaller one where I can paint, a bathroom, and a small private garden lined by hedges that basks in sunshine most of the day. From the first time we set foot inside, I felt at home and could picture us happy here - croissants for breakfast on the terrace, relaxing on the sofa watching movies, tangled together as moonlight spills through the bedroom windows. Our home; our castle.

Remy’s cooking dinner for us, as has become our little routine in our château. He loves to cook and it’s a joy to watch him. Music plays in the background as I perch at the end of the small breakfast bar with an intoxicating glass of red wine that we only ever have here. We chatter and laugh about the heists gone by, his brother’s new romance, our friends and dozens of other topics as they flit through our minds. Remy glides effortlessly around the kitchen and makes even the most complex of tasks look like child’s play. I observe with admiring eyes: everything my husband does, he does it with flair - from the way he rapidly chops ingredients and tosses them into the pan, to how he decants wine directly from the bottle into our food with never a measurement taken. I offer to help and my assistance is swiftly declined,

“Everything is under control, ma cherie”, he assures me, shooting me that bright signature smile that makes my heart skip every time, “Sit. Relax. Enjoy the wine with your Remy.” Normally, I simply nod, sit back and enjoy the show, but tonight I choose to pout and fix my saddest brown eyes on him - the ones I know that he just can’t say ‘no’ to, “Please? Let me help you?”

Remy opens his mouth to object, but quickly closes it again before silently agreeing with a flourish of his hands. He would do anything to make me happy and I love him for that. I bounce down from the bar stool, wine glass still in hand, beaming at him, “Yey! What do you want me to do?” He passes me a knife and asks me to julienne some veg, so I wash my hands and get to work slicing as I sing along the music. Before too long I have a bundle of matchstick vegetables and can feel Remy’s eyes on me. One arm snakes around my waist, a whisk in the other hand. He appraises the quality and quantity of my veg - satisfied, he rewards me with a sweet kiss on my cheek, making me blush before returning to his saucepan.

My first task successfully completed, I lean back against the cabinets, sip my wine and watch as he tosses ingredients into one of the simmering pans on the stove, “What can I do next?”, I ask him. Remy gestures to the pantry and requests some flour for his roux so I place my glass down, steal a kiss and playfully squeeze his behind as I pass him. A sound of feigned offence follows me into the pantry and makes me giggle.

After a little searching I locate the packet of flour on the top shelf and as I stretch overhead to bring it down I realise the bag isn’t tightly closed. A little plume of white powder sprinkles to the floor and I dance to avoid it’s path: I do reasonably well as it only dusts my hands leaving my black clothing unharmed! Biting back a mischievous little chuckle as an idea pops into my head, I head back into the kitchen and hand Remy the flour packet, before booping his button nose with my other flour-covered hand. Taken by surprise, he splutters and tries to wipe it away before pulling me close to him. I try to wriggle out of his grasp, laughing but fearful of a flour-filled revenge - but he grips me firmly and his green eyes are glittering as his lips meet mine. A kiss, like so many of ours, that begins in a grin - joy-filled and gentle.

“I’m sorry-“ I mumble against his mouth, “I couldn’t resist...”

His hands settle on my sides, thumbs skimming over the waistline of my jeans grazing the bare skin of my hip bones. A series of soft kisses nuzzle my lips peppered with the words, “And I. Can’t. Resist you. Cherie.” I smirk, as I run my fingers through his hair, teasing him, “Hmmm. I am pretty irresistible.”

The lighthearted humour between us evaporates and everything slows down as Remy closes the little space remaining between us. My stomach stirs recognising the growing hunger in his eyes as they lock with mine. There’s a tinge of dark, rich Merlot on his warm breath as my lips yield and I melt into his touch. Within seconds our kiss has deepened, tongues tangle and my hands rake over the expanse of his toned back, shoulders and rear - my pulse racing. We gravitate clumsily back toward the cool granite top and I groan as I make contact; the hard lines of Remy’s body crush against mine while deft fingers burn beneath my shirt roaming over my curves. Remy hoists me up to sit on the counter effortlessly and instinctively my limbs wrap around him drawing him ever closer to me - every kiss more frenetic than the last, every subtle shift of his hips electrifying me. Just two thin layers of clothing between me and all that I ache for, with every touch stoking the flame between us and making my head spin.

As addled by lust as my brain is, I’m vaguely aware that the saucepans on the stove bubble away furiously now neglected - and that dinner is probably ruined. If Remy has noticed he is as far past caring as I am. Kisses sear across my collarbone as I feebly mouth, “Remy... The sauce is burning...”

His teeth drag slowly from the hollow of my throat to my ear and he rasps, “So am I, ma rêveuse,” he breaks away from me momentarily to turn off the stove, grinning wickedly, “and only one of us can be saved.” Helping me down from the countertop our lips collide once more and our passion overtakes; discarded clothing, declarations of love and scandalous intentions litter the path to our bedroom. As we sink into the soft mattress together a little voice far in the back of my head briefly considers that we can perhaps try to salvage our dinner later but I know from the look in my Remy’s eyes that very soon I’ll have forgotten my own name, never mind the ability to think about what state our meal is in. I laugh to myself as I decide ‘there’s always pizza’ - and that’s the last thought in my head before my brain short-circuits and I’m losing myself to something infinitely better and more satisfying.