#not for the thing i should have the gut in me to do

[aurorawritestoescape]

WALLET PHOTO || DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel and you are in a secret relationship but one day Joel notices that you’re not very careful at keeping the secret.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, age gap (how big is up to you), soft!Joel, taking nudes, praise kink, f!oral, unprotected piv (wrap it up), squirting, creampie. Reader wears a skirt. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description.

Word count: 4,3k

A/n: written for @justagalwhowrites ‘s Joel Miller Birthday celebration! I chose dbf Joel and secret relationship. Thank you for a wonderful challenge, Kit 💕and Happy Birthday to tloml, Joel Miller!❤️ Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 I’ve never written dbf and I hope y’all like it! Love you! Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more soft Joel - Good Girl || Sweet Cherry

After an afternoon movie date with Joel you’re sitting on your bed in your room with a shoe box on your lap. Joel’s leaning against the door frame, watching you with a soft smile. Your noisy roommate is not in so you two are enjoying each other’s company in the quiet apartment.

Joel knows about your big collection of movie tickets and doesn’t ask any questions when you take today's trophy out of your wallet with a content smile and place it in the box. You’re telling him how much you hate the introduction of electronic tickets when Joel interrupts you.

"Hey! Show me that.”

With his expression serious all of a sudden he steps up towards you, his arm stretched and waiting.

“What?"

"Your wallet. Give me.”

“Ehm... no.”

You're hurriedly trying to shove it back into your tiny handbag but Joel’s too fast. He bends down, yanks the wallet out of your fingers and opens it. You sigh deeply when he looks down at you with a heavy scowl that speaks volumes.

You don’t say anything and after a few moments of heavy silence he breaks it.

“Baby”.

You probably should feel concerned but the thunder in his voice sends shivers of excitement down your spine, your heartbeat increases and you gush into your panties.

"What?"

"Why do you have my photo in your wallet?"

You pout your lips and reply with defiance,

"To look at you."

He puts his hands on his hips, his usual stance when you behave like a brat, your wallet still clenched between his thick fingers, and his usually warm but now fiery eyes under the furrowed brows are boring into you.

“What if your dad sees it?”

"He won't."

"How can you be so sure? I’ve noticed it. He might as well."

"Well..,” you start and pause, looking everywhere but his piercing eyes.

"Well what?"

“I don't know, Joel! Stop grilling me!” you exclaim, finally breaking under pressure. Then you look up at the man with your best puppy eyes and explain, “I love this photo. I love looking at it when I miss you.”

Joel sighs and his arms fall in defeat. His softness washes away the displeasure off his handsome face as soon as he notices that you’re upset.

His voice is warm and comforting again when he argues,

"But you have a bunch of my photos on your phone.”

"Yeah, but… This is different. I love having it here. I open my wallet and BAM! You’re staring at me. So handsome and mine.” Your eyes downcast, you add, “My heart feels warm and shit when I see it.”

"Warm and shit. Jesus. You'll be the death of me, missy."

With a deep sigh he hands you the wallet back and when you are about to grab it, he clasps your wrist and gently pulls you off the bed and into his embrace. You press your nose to his warm chest, hidden behind the softest flannel, and take a deep breath of his scent. His big heart is beating steadily under your palms, his arms, muscular and strong, shield you from the outside world that is unfortunately not receptive to your relationship.

You feel a kiss planted on the top of your head and look up at Joel. Your eyes lock as you talk without speaking, confess the things that both of you have no guts to verbalize yet. Instead you connect by sharing the warmth of your bodies, letting your heartbeats harmonize with each other.

As always when you’re with Joel, the warmth quickly morphs into scorching fire and your body starts demanding him just as much as your heart. Your core ignites, sending flames of wet desire to your aching pussy and you lick your lower lip, inviting your secret lover to get a taste.

“My beautiful girl”, Joel whispers, as his pupils dilate, eyes slide over the curve of your mouth and he leans down. The kiss, gentle, slow and wet, soon overwhelms you, makes your whole body tremble with need and you cuddle into his arms as close as you can.

Joel seems impatient to have you too and when he slightly bucks his hips, you feel him stiff against your lower belly. You breathe out his name and take a step back, pulling him by the hand towards your bed. He sits down on the foot of it and you swiftly straddle his thighs.

“Damn, baby,” Joel growls as you plant a soft kiss on his cheek and your hips start rolling gently against his hard bulge. He throws your open wallet on the bed and you turn to look down at the photo.

Joel follows the direction of your eyes and says with a soft smile, “I remember that day.”

“Yeah, it was my birthday. You looked so hot in that blue shirt.”

“Really?” Joel beams at you like a cat sitting in the sun and his dark eyes are darting between yours while his hands are gripping your hips tighter.

“Yeah. We weren't together yet but I was already… I already liked you.”

“Oh,” Joel mumbles and then tilts his head, brows furrowed. “Didn’t ya have a boyfriend back then? I remember some guy being there with you.”

“Yeah, I did,” you smirk and then nuzzle his scruffy cheek, purring against it, “but the entire party I was wet because of my dad’s buddy.”

Joel growls and squeezes the softness of your hips as you sit straight and admit, locking eyes with him,

“ ‘s why I took that photo. Wanted to have something of you.”

Joel’s looking up at you as if you’re an angel fallen

from heaven. Not used to expressing his feelings, he pulls you closer, kisses your cheek and hugs you tightly.

“I… never thought I’d feel all this again. Never thought you’d be mine. ‘m lucky to have you.”

You hold your breath and freeze in his arms, scared to ruin this beautiful moment.

Joel pulls away from you and searches for your eyes.

"I want your photo too, sweetheart. Wanna feel warm and shit when I open my wallet," he quotes you with a wink and adds, "Your dad be damned."

You giggle, the sound ringing with excitement, and swiftly get off him.

“Let’s take it now!”

You hurry to your desk, open the first drawer and look for your Polaroid camera. Then you return to Joel, handing it to him.

“Where should I sit?”

You look about your bedroom, chewing on your lip, searching for the best place to pose at.

“Not the bed, baby. I should have at least the benefit of the doubt if someone sees it.”

You laugh and then take a seat in your chair at the desk, thighs pressed together, covered partially by your short skirt, hands clasped in your lap.

Joel gets up, and when you give him your most innocent smile, he pushes the button.

The picture slides out immediately and Joel pulls it out and starts shaking it, stepping up to you, waiting for it to develop.

“If I look bad, we’ll take another one, k?” you ask, your big eyes directed at Joel.

“You couldn’t look bad even if you tried, baby.”

Warmth fills your chest as he cups your cheek and you nuzzle his warm palm. Then you impatiently take the photo from his hand and look at it.

“It’ll do,” you comment with a happy grin.

You show it to Joel and he bends over and squints looking at it.

“Do you need your glasses?” You ask with a naughty smile and Joel throws you the look.

“I don’t,” he straightens up and takes the photo from you to inspect it closely.

“Huh. You look like such a good girl.”

You fake gasp, plant your hands on your knees and bat your lashes at him with exaggeration.

“Ain’t I a good girl, Joel?”

The man puts the photo on your desk and steps up so close that his jeans brush your naked knees. You squirm when he pinches your chin and tilts your head up to face him.

“We both know how bad this good girl can get.”

The way he says it, voice low and gruff, eyes blown out and full of fire, sends shivers down your spine and you feel a new surge of wetness spill into your already soaked panties.

“Yeah,” you agree and bite your lip when an idea lights up in your mind. “We can take one more photo. Of your bad girl.”

Joel’s chest expands, and he shifts his jaw while his hungry gaze is sliding down your body.

“You’ll let me?”

You nod, melting under his scorching look.

His expression is serious, almost dark, when he takes the camera off the desk. You try to contain your excitement, calm down the fire burning deep in your core, before you take a deep breath. Joel steps back and sits down on the bed, thighs spread, holding the camera in his big hands but not lifting it to his eyes.

“Show me what you wanna do, baby.”

“Ohh.” You raise your eyebrows playfully at the man. “You can be unhappy with my pose?”

“What if my bad girl gets too shy to come out?” He smiles and you bite your lower lip, giddy with the challenge presented to you.

After a few moments of contemplation you start by taking your top off. You give Joel a little show, sliding the clothing off your body slowly, gliding your hands over your exposed skin. Soon you’re left sitting in your lacy bra and a skirt and Joel seems to love it. He throws his thighs wider and adjusts his prominent bulge.

Wishing to show him your assets in the best way, you lean against the chair and arch your back, pushing your tits out. Your nipples are hard under the thin lace and Joel definitely sees them.

“You’re beautiful, baby,” Joel praises you in a soft tone but then tilts his head to the side, a smirk twisting his lips. “Wish you showed me more.”

You narrow your eyes at the man.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s coming,” you say and seductively pull down your skirt. Joel’s eyes immediately dart to your lacy thong. Now you’re sitting only in your underwear in front of Joel, who’s still fully clothed. When you glide your palms over your body to entice the man, your arousal spikes and you desperately wish for it to be Joel’s big hands.

“Wanna take a pic now?” You know that Joel’s on the verge of getting up and ripping the last of the clothes off you but he surprises you with his reply, as he places the camera on the bed next to him.

“Not yet, sweetheart. You can do better.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity and you wriggle in the seat, trying to alleviate the ache between your legs, probably leaving a wet stain on the chair.

‘He wants to play? Let’s play,’ you think and purr,

“Careful what you wish for, Mr Miller.”

Joel’s nostrils flare and a low growl rises up from his chest when he hears what you called him.

Your mischievous smile indicates that you know exactly what you’re doing and you don’t plan on stopping. Joel is always gentle with you but sometimes it’s fun to wake the other side of him, a passionate man driven by desire, ready to grab, manhandle and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.

So with a half sigh-half moan you hook your thumbs under the straps of your bra and slide them off your shoulders while Joel’s dark eyes are following your every move. His gaze glosses over when you pull your bra cups down and expose your breasts to his hungry eyes.

“Ohh, that’s my girl,” he croaks, moving closer to the edge of the bed, as if he’s ready to pounce on you any second.

“Still a good girl, Joel?” you purr, kneading the soft plush of your tits, and spreading your thighs a little wider.

Joel seems to be lost for words as you take the bra off and languidly move your hips back and forth, riding the chair, desperately wishing it to be Joel’s hips. Your sexy taunting backfires as the friction on your aching pussy spikes your need and you plead,

“Can you already take the pic?”

Not tearing his eyes off your body, Joel grabs the camera off the bed but still doesn’t direct it at you.

Your heart beats faster when you realize what he’s waiting for.

You’ve started dating Joel recently so every time you show him THAT part of you, your pussy, your whole body still trembles with nerves and excitement. Joel never pushes you, never asks for more that you wish to give him but you can’t help but feel a little anxious.

Before you step over the edge, you take a deep breath and spread your thighs wider. You trace your seam under the panties with your middle finger and your skin erupts with chills at the light caress. You tilt your hips up to show him more and Joel leans slightly forward and wets his lips when his eyes land on the wet spot on the fabric.

“Shall I take my panties off, Mr Miller?” Your voice is shaky with lust, as you press your finger to your hardened clit over the soaked panties. A needy moan flies out of your parted lips and Joel echoes it with a groan.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Please, show me.”

His self control is crumbling, judging by the strain in his voice. You don’t make him wait for long. You lift your hips and in a second your panties fall on the floor.

“Ohh, baby.”

Joel’s soft moan at the sight of your naked pussy gives you the needed courage, drowns your shyness in a deep pit of desire, and you slowly lift and plant your feet on the edge of the chair, one and then the other.

Your pussy opens up, weeping hole clenching, calling for your lover, and your chest and belly heave when you caress your mound and then slide your middle finger between your wet folds.

“Joel,” you whimper and his will breaks.

He gets up, brings the camera to his eyes but then lowers it to ask,

“Can I take a few photos of you?”

You smile and whisper a sultry ‘ yeah’ and Joel pushes the button, taking a photo of you sitting on the chair, your nipples perked up, legs bent and spread, hand resting between your thighs as you look up at him with your gaze lustful and needy.

He’s inching towards you and every few seconds takes another photo. Click-click-click.

“Damn, I — you’re— fuck, so hot.”

You giggle and, wanting to give him more, run your hands over your naked body so he could capture your fingers pushing your breasts together, twitching your nipples, gliding through your puffy folds. The pictures are falling on the floor, one by one, blank yet, creating a path as he’s slowly walking towards you.

Your pussy is crying, clear desire trickling from your hole and onto the chair, and you whimper when he kneels in front of you and glances up, waiting for your approval. Your cheeks burn but you nod with a smile, letting him capture the most sacred part of you.

Joel’s breathing heavily as he brings the camera to his eyes and directs it at your glistening cunt.

When the photo appears, he doesn’t look at it. Instead he’s focused on your expression, pained and needy, and your desperate ‘Joel’ falling off your lips drives him crazy. He puts the camera on the floor and clasps his big hands around your ankles.

“Are you achin’, sweetie? Do you want me to kiss your sweet pussy?”

“Yes, Joel, please, ye—”, he doesn’t let you finish, his warm lips immediately press to your cold wet folds.

A string of your loud moans fill the room after he grabs your hips, throws your thighs on his shoulders and begins eating you out. He starts with open mouth kisses to your inner thighs, slowly moves to your sopping center and licks a path from your hole to your pulsating clit. He gently sucks it into his mouth and you clench your fist in his curly graying hair, your pussy gushing onto his chin. Joel feels your wetness on his skin and lowers his mouth to drink everything you're offering him, like it’s nectar of the gods itself.

“Sweet—sweet little pussy—mine—ya mine, baby,” he mumbles and his words vibrate against your cunt, making you writhe and whimper, as he’s bringing you higher to the peak.

“Oh my god, Joel,” you whine as his tongue begins a lascivious dance over your clit, his wet hot muscle swirling around it, rubbing it tirelessly and it’s not long until you cry out into your palm and shake, twitch, jerk against the chair, against Joel’s unyielding lips, still caressing you through the hard climax.

You sigh happily when your body relaxes, and completely drunk on endorphins, with half-lidded eyes, see Joel’s face looking up at you from between your thighs. His gaze is lustful, chin glistening with your slick, and you sit up to kiss the man who has just rocked your world.

Joel reaches up to you and you meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss lets you taste the tang of your juices on his tongue, and you hum at the delicious mixture of him and you.

“Need you, baby— need you now,” Joel murmurs against your lips. Eager as well you get up and lead him to the bed.

With impatient hands he starts unbuttoning his shirt, but you stop him.

“Let me, Joel, please,” you ask, your eyes pleading, and he grants your wish. You take his flannel off and then his undershirt. You know that he’s desperate to be inside you yet you can’t help but to glide your palms over the expense of his hairy chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength of his body, so big and broad and all yours. You unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down together with his boxers.

Joel’s chest is heaving as you both look down at his hard cock, standing proudly at attention.

You bite your lip and your eyes gloss over. It’s gorgeous. You wish you could kiss it all over, take it in your mouth, let him spill his hot cum on your waiting tongue. No, he needs your warm wet pussy.

You wrap your hand around his stiffness and Joel moans, hurriedly trying to hide the sound with a fake cough.

“No, please,” you whisper, placing your palm on his chest. “I love hearing how good you feel.”

Joel slithers his arm around you and cups your butt, pulling you closer to him, and his wet tip pokes your lower belly.

“YOU make me feel good. I can never get enough of you,” he whispers in your ear and you melt under the heat of his naked body against yours, his lips leaving kisses along your neck.

“Wanna ride you,” your murmur tells him.

Joel lies down on your bed and you straddle his thighs and take his cock in your hand before lifting your hips and hovering over it. He’s still training your pussy to take him and his big cock is still a challenge for you. You brace your hand on his chest, guide his tip to your entrance, take a deep breath before starting to sink on his member, inch by inch.

Joel shuts his eyes and tilts his head back, dipping it into the mattress.

“Oh—ohhhh—fuckin’—,” a string of pleasured sounds is leaving his open mouth and you follow him, reveling in the sensation of him pushing your walls apart, filling you nicely like no one has ever had.

Finally you’re fully sitting on his cock and he opens his eyes to look down at the place you’re joined, his length completely sheathed inside your cunt.

“Will never get used to it—warm and wet— and so fuckin’ tight. Sorry, baby,” he apologizes for cursing and you reassure him with a hazy smile,

“ ‘s ok. You’re so big inside me, Joel. It’s like I can feel you here.” You put your hand on your chest and he chuckles,

“I ain’t that big, sweetheart. But thank you for the compliment.”

You giggle but the smiles are quickly wiped off your faces when you finally move on his cock. You start riding him, rolling your hips back and forth, smearing your slick over his crotch, and then bounce up and down, alternating your movements.

Joel's hands are gripping your thighs but you need him so much that you take them and hold them up, feeling your connection brighter. Joel’s looking up at you with adoration and piety, taking in your ecstatic expression, your bouncing breasts, your skin, dewy with sweat, your glistening folds, spread around his girthy cock.

“Fuckin’ angel,” he mumbles and shuts his eyes.

“Joel, look at me. Please,” you murmur.

“Can’t, baby— can’t— I’ll come too soon—you’re too sexy.”

“I don’t care. Come. I want your eyes on me.”

He doesn’t deny you and soon he’s drinking the sight of you fucking him with full gulps.

You don’t give him any respite when you place his hands on your breasts and he begins kneading them, twitching your perky nipples. Yours meanwhile travel back, as you turn slightly and find his balls under your moving pussy. You caress them in your palm, one and then the other, then gently tug on the sack.

“Jesus, baby, want me to burst? Oh, yeah—“

You both are moaning, chasing your climaxes with increasing intensity. You tilt your hips a little to press your pulsating clit against the fluff of his pubic hair and grind, grind, grind your pussy over his lower belly. Joel’s cock moving deep inside you, your clit twitching in his coarse hair, all the sensations combined light up your body and when Joel lifts his torso on his elbow and unhinges his jaw to take as much of your breast into his hot mouth as he can, you explode with a loud cry.

He’s sucking and licking your tit as you bury your nose in his soft hair and your pussy starts clamping around his cock. A surge of wetness floods your core and you moan his name desperately, soaking his stiffness.

“I’m here, baby. I gotchu.”

Joel lies back down, plants his feet on the bed and starts thrusting his hips up, plunging his cock deeper into your squirting pussy.

“Take it—take it—,” he grunts through gritted teeth, fingers digging into your soft thighs as he’s fucking you, your walls squeezing him hard, until he roars and begins spurting his cum inside you, adding to the ocean of ecstasy already filling your core. The squelching of his and your cum mixes with your moans, the music of your unity.

As soon as he stops twitching inside you, you fall on his chest and you both relax, catching your breaths, his cock slowly softening inside you.

The sweat on your skin soon cools down and you shiver.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel coos and, still staying under you, covers your back with a bedspread.

You get warm and almost fall asleep, lulled by his steady breathing, but Joel squeezes you and whispers against your temple,

“Got something for ya.”

He moves you off him, and you shift on the bed, after feeling a wet spot under you. It’s not the first time you squirted with Joel but it still fascinates you what he can do to your body.

Meanwhile Joel gets off the bed, picks up his jeans off the floor and shoves his hand into a pocket.

He retrieves something and sits back down next to you.

You sit up, not bothering to cover your naked breasts, and crane your neck to see what he’s got in his hands. It turns out to be a long velvet box.

“Wanted to give it to you next week. For one month anniversary. But you said that you’d wanted to have something of me. So —ehm—here.”

You see a soft blush bloom on his cheeks as he speaks and butterflies dance in your belly at how cute and sweet he is. He opens the box and with two thick fingers pulls out a gold necklace. He holds the ends of it and you see a pendant hanging on it- a little heart.

You gasp at the surprise and then squeal, throwing your arms around his neck. Joel chuckles and asks you to turn around so he could put it on.

You look down at the beautiful gift, lift the heart and press it to your lips.

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper and then hurry off the bed.

You grab your Polaroid camera where Joel has left it and direct it at yourself. You return to Joel with another photo in your hand - a close up of your neck and Joel’s present, resting on the top of your chest.

“Here. Your wallet photo,” you smile, handing it to your lover. “Only you know it’s me. We can keep our secret.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he croaks with his eyes sparkling and pulls you in for a kiss.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST || more soft Joel - Good Girl || Sweet Cherry

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye

[moonstruckme]

omg mae bae happy bday and congrats on 7k wowie! would you do apple pie, ¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology, with steve harrington? <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: alcohol, spin the bottle

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Steve finds you in the kitchen. You’ve procured a pair of scissors from somewhere, and you’re snipping apart those plastic rings that hold together six-packs. You glance up as he comes in but look away quickly, picking another up off the counter. 

“Turtles strangle themselves on these things,” you say. You snip a corner, the sound short and crisp. “I don’t know why we still use them.” 

Steve honestly doesn’t think much about sea animals when he’s drinking a beer, but he wants to agree with you. “Me neither.” 

“It’s like, we’re supposed to be this advanced society. Can’t we come up with something that doesn’t kill turtles?” 

“Mhm. Probably.” 

“I just think it’s dumb.” You push out a breath. It sounds frustrated, but Steve knows you well. You’re more stressed than angry. He’s not patient enough to wait for you to get around to telling him that yourself. 

“What’re you doing in here?” he asks. 

You look up at him again. Shrug. “I was sick of being out there.”

“You wanna go home?” 

“Do you?” 

It’s a fair thing to ask. Steve’s your ride, so leaving these things is usually a joint decision. But he feels like the question is pointed. “Do you think I wanna go home?” 

“I don’t know.” Some of the stress is seeping into your voice now, your terseness taking on a new hue. “You seemed mad.” 

He was mad (is mad?). He just hasn’t figured out if it’s fair for him to be, yet, so he wasn’t planning on making it your business. He thought that would be the nice thing to do, but you don’t seem to appreciate being left out of the loop. 

“Do I seem mad now?” he asks. 

You cut through the last plastic ring with a harsh snap. “Christ, Steve, I don’t know. Why are you asking me all this?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and though it’s automatic he does mean it. “I’m not trying to be mad at you.” 

Your eyes meet his, crushed before you can hide it. “But you are.” 

“Not—” He sighs, jamming his thumb against his brow bone. It’s an anxious habit, a preventative measure against potential headaches. “Not really. Not in a way that’s important.” 

“I think it’s important anytime you’re mad at me,” you say. Your voice has softened and smalled. Steve feels like his guts are in knots. He wants to make an excuse, to explain—It’s not that I’m actually mad at you. I haven’t decided if I should be. So we’re all good, right? For now, I mean. At least until I decide.—but before he get the chance to further fuck things up you ask, “Can you tell me what you’re mad about?” 

Steve drops his hand to look at you. “You really don’t know?”

You wince, and he thinks you do know. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.” 

He feels his brows furrow. “For what to happen?” 

“For it to land on you.” 

“That’s not…it’s spin the bottle. You can’t control who it lands on. That’s the point.” 

You shake your head, almost to yourself. Your fingers are fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I shouldn’t have even played. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known that was gonna happen.” 

“What do you keep apologizing for?” Some accidental anger makes its way into Steve’s tone. “Who did you want to kiss?”

You blink. “No one.” 

“Nobody plays spin the bottle unless they want to kiss someone.” 

“Well, I guess I changed my mind.” 

“Why?” 

“Because!” Your voice rises, and you lower it just as quickly. You both glance to the kitchen entryway like the calvary is going to come force you back to that stupid party just because you almost yelled. “Because,” you say, quieter, “it was weird.”

Steve forgets to even try to keep his face in check. He feels it twist with hurt. “It was?” 

“Yes! Everyone was looking at us, and it was like a game—it was a game.” You pull your sleeves over your hands, shoulders winding up tight. “I guess I just feel like that sort of thing should be private.”

Awareness dawns upon him like a slow sunrise. Steve has never been known for his book smarts, but he’s not stupid. He knows what it feels like to be liked. He’s just never known what it felt like to be liked by you. 

A little laugh of disbelief stumbles out of him. “You said ‘ew.’” 

You’d been tipsier and fizzy with excitement when the game had started. Smiling and laughing at everything, your giddiness palpable. When your turn had come, Steve had watched you carefully to see if your eyes did that hopeful flit to someone in the circle, but all your concentration had been on the bottle, your smile slipping just a little as it spun. And landed on him. 

Ew, you laughed. No, c’mon, you can’t make us.

That’s the game, Marcy had reminded you gleefully. As a resister, you now had the attention of most of the circle. It wasn’t Steve’s first time playing. He knew how it went. 

Relax. He’d forced a smile, getting onto his hands and knees to meet you in the middle. It’ll be quick. Not too disgusting.

You’d made a face of humorous unwillingness, your eyes darting around the group as if seeking rescue. Fine, you relented. If it’s not a big deal to you, it’s not to me. 

Steve had done this more than once, but it felt especially awkward with you. Crawling into the middle of a circle of spectators, your hand knocking the bottle so that it clinked and rolled. True to his promise, he kept it brief, a short, painless press of his lips. Hardly enough to feel the impression of yours before you were both pulling away, Steve silent and you spewing a string of nervous giggles. 

You’d left before it was Steve’s turn to spin. 

Now you seem near to ripping the sleeves of your shirt, the material stretched over your curled fingers as you worry your lip. You’re back to not looking at him. “I didn’t mean ‘ew’ at you.” 

It had sure sounded like it. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant it, like, I didn’t like how things were going.” You laugh at yourself, the sound stymied. “Like ew, we have to kiss in front of everyone, or ew, Chris is watching us way too intently.”

Steve makes a face. “He was?” 

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Something seems to dawn upon you now, too, your expression clearing. “That I said that?” 

He looks at you for a second. “Well, it sounds stupid when you say it out loud.” 

“No it doesn’t,” you say, but you look to be fighting a grin. “I’m sorry, it’s not stupid. I didn’t mean to be mean.” 

“It’s okay,” he says genuinely. 

You shake your head. “I wasn’t thinking. But that’s not what I meant.” 

Steve knows this now, but he teases you anyway. “Are you sure about that?” 

You hesitate only half a second before you catch onto what he’s doing. Your smile starts to win. “I’m sure.” 

“Kissing me doesn’t disgust you?” 

“No.” Your voice is bashful now, but your eyes are steady on his as you take a step toward him. 

The knots in Steve’s guts aren’t getting any looser, though there’s a different kind of commotion going on there now. “I don’t know if I believe you.” 

You reach for each other at the same time, his hands on your ribs and yours on either side of his face, and this time there’s no glass bottles to knock or rules to adhere to or spectators to appease. This kiss isn’t short.

[starlightazriel]

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

-

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

-

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

-

taglist <3:

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta @honk4emoboyz @bookishbishhh @dakotali @blessthepizzaman @scooobies @durgenyx @lorosette @kayjaywrites

[dark-frosted-heart]

Choose Your True Love - Keith Howell (part 2/4)

This is the from the 4th anniversary event

(Alter)Keith indicates that it’s Alter!Keith pretending to be Keith.

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. Some dialogue’s taken directly from the English version of Keith's route.

(He's impressive in so many ways…)

Alter!Keith: Thought you were gonna cry a bit, but you’re pretty tough even with that cute face. Or are you used to this in the future?

Emma: From what I know, things aren’t as bad as they are now. It’s most likely because Prince Keith keeps things in check.

Alter!Keith: That so? Makes sense…Then it’s worth gutting them.

He snickered and looked over his documents again.

(Be careful with “that”)

The documents from Liam had information on nobles who had committed crimes that couldn’t be ignored.

And so I went from estate to estate with Prince Keith as his aide.

You could say the purpose was to do some clean up.

~~ Flashback ~~

(Alter)Keith:  Even cities far from the capital are under watch. Continue foolishly raising taxes and we’ll know. It’s alright though, I won’t be asking for an immediate confession. After tomorrow, you won’t be a lord, so we have plenty of time.

--

(Alter)Keith: You joined a group of thieves to deal in illegal trading. Good thing you were too optimistic to be careful. Is that an excuse I hear? Let’s go, there’s a carriage waiting. You don’t live here anymore.

--

(Alter)Keith: It’s not fake at all. This is real evidence given to me by the administrator you hired. You should be thankful that they gave you a chance to make up for your crimes. But will this pointless struggle continue?

~~ End flashback ~~

(Even though he was pretending to be nice Prince Keith, his smile instilled fear)

(Those cold golden eyes that could stop the heart and merciless cornering)

(And speaking of mercy, he didn’t take any lives)

I shivered at the memory. Those nobles must have been traumatized.

~~ Flashback to his route ~~

 Liam: Although his methods are barbaric, it is thanks to him that our nation’s defenses are stronger, and the nobles who hurt the common people are less in number. Although naturally, there is a subset of nobles who despise him because of that. Prince Keith has achieved a great many things. But most of those were achieved by that piece of crap.

~~ End flashback ~~

A conversation from before I came to Jade crossed my mind.

(Sure, the way he’s cornering the nobles will make them hostile, but it eases the common people’s suffering)

(He’s doing this “on behalf of” and “for” the nice Prince Keith…)

(Prince Keith’s annoyed by the cruel words said, but he’s not upset by them)

(It’s like he’s used to it)

(...I can’t ignore it)

The nobles naturally didn’t admit to their crimes when they were presented to them.

And because it was Prince Keith they were dealing with, they hurled insults at him, which made me angry.

Alter!Keith: …

Emma: Um, can I help you?

I tilted my head in confusion when Prince Keith leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and stared at me.

Alter!Keith: Nothing. Just surprised by how much you like the failure.

(I’m not…though this reminds me of when we first met)

He’d call nice Prince Keith a “failure”, but would smile whenever I said he wasn’t.

(He’s been lying to himself and acting contradictory for so long…)

Alter!Keith: …

(Ah, he’s going over the documents again)

They were different from the ones Liam gave him, and he had been spending most of our time in the carriage looking over them.

(I wonder if the king’s already left official duties to him as his aid by this time)

The sunlight made the dark circles under his eyes peeking out through his bangs more prominent.

(That’s probably not the only cause…)

It was something that had been bothering me since before we left the castle, and I unconsciously opened my mouth.

Emma: Why don’t you rest your eyes for a moment?

Alter!Keith: Sorry I got you worried, but these dark circles are that guy’s fault. “I’m” not tired.

Emma: Nice Prince Keith’s fault…?

(What did he mean?)

Alter!Keith: …That’s what you call him?

Emma: Yes, since you’re both Prince Keith.

Alter!Keith: Then what about me?

Emma: Wicked Prince Keith.

Alter!Keith: Haha, so I played with you in the future? Well, you do look gullible.

Emma: I don’t think I am…?

Alter!Keith: Whatever you say…Hm?

Emma: ?

(Did he see something outside the window…?)

Like Prince Keith, I looked out the window.

At that moment, I felt a peck on the cheek and heard a chuckle.

I looked back and saw Prince Keith smiling wickedly at me.

Alter!Keith: I need to use complex tricks for Emma. Noted.

Emma: …You’re still as wicked as ever.

Alter!Keith: So I’m also wicked Prince Keith too?

He still had that same innocent smile which almost made me forget that I was in the past. 

(Hopefully this was enough to distract from the unpleasantness from the estate…)

Alter!Keith: As an apology for making you pout, I’ll answer any question you have.

Emma: Huh?

Alter!Keith: There’s something you want to ask me.

(...Is he sure?)

I hesitated for a moment and looked into his eyes.

Emma: The dark circles aren’t because you’re busy with official duties, is it?

Alter!Keith: You got it.

Prince Keith sighed and everything was quiet for a moment.

Alter!Keith: …The next time we wake up, which personality will be in front? What if it’s a different personality? He’s been losing sleep worrying over this.

(I thought so…)

I remembered his diaries and the empty shelves.

(Back in this time, Prince Keith was still confused over his abnormality, and was struggling to accept it)

(So maybe those feelings of fear and rejection toward the wicked Prince Keith were strong enough to make him lose sleep)

Alter!Keith: He may be a failure, but he’s stubborn. Even if he can’t do anything, he’ll still desperately try to do something for his country or someone else. …And he gets in my way.

(Now I can understand just how much the wicked Prince Keith cares for the nice Prince Keith)

(...That’s why it’s difficult)

At the same time, it felt irritating.

--

(...I want to cover my ears right now)

[mountainfeeder]

Dear Feedee

I've heard whispers of your hesitation,your caution, your second guesses. And don't get me wrong... a little caution in life can't hurt. But you, you shouldn't let your caution define you. You've got a smart mind, good for thinking, but sometimes it convinces you of things that you don't want. I shouldn't get *too* fat. Maybe I should lose some weight. Maybe I should slow down my eating.

These thoughts aren't just you. The rest of society has raised a chorus of "concern" and a cacophony of caution. Your friends and family giving odd glances, society deeming you wrong. It's hard not to internalize this, not to look down at your swollen belly and see not a thing of beauty but of shame. Deep down, though, you know what you should do, what you desperately want.

You want to Keep. Getting. Fatter. You weren't meant to be skinny. You were meant to be a greedy, hungry fatty. You were meant to swell up like a balloon. You were meant to have plush thighs wider than your old waist. You were meant to have overfull, heavy breasts. You were meant to have your neckline disappear in fat. You were meant to have a big, fat gut sticking out from you. You were meant to be weighed down by the excess plump, round, obese belly.

Some girls are meant to be skinny. You aren't. You're meant to gluttony yourself in fatty foods and sugary drinks until your body reflects your gluttony. An empty head and a full stomach. That sounds ideal, doesn't it? Because the rest of the world is burdened by responsibilities and superfluous things, like dieting and stressing and worrying.

So listen not to the so-called concerns. Free yourself of these worries and stressors. Keep eating, keep growing, keep getting fatter and fatter. Feel your body swell and become more and more laden with soft, heavy fat. Feel your belly grow rounder and fuller by the day, a direct result of your greed and gluttony.

Surrender your body, surrender your mind to become temples of gluttony and excess. You know you want to. Keep stuffing your face, and fall asleep each night bloated and full. Leave your caution behind. Keep getting fatter.

[ghostradiodylan]

Probably a lukewarm take, but other than the (lack of an) ending, the Laura and Ryan scenes are some of the worst written and conceived parts of The Quarry.

And this is completely separate from whether Ryan is interested in Dylan (he is, but that's another post and not important to this rant) or Kaitlyn; even if Ryan had no other potential relationships in the game, even if Laura wasn't practically married to Max, wearing his ring around her neck the entire time they're talking, it still would feel flat to me because nothing about it is earned.

Laura is on a killing spree with the single-minded goal of saving Max. She genuinely believes the only way to do that is to kill Chris Hackett. Even if you've made her argue with Max to the extent that they can, they're still a strong unit when she goes out to solve this werewolf thing once and for all. Even if you don't believe in love think their relationship would survive all this trauma, she deeply believes she owes it to him to rescue him, that is her entire guiding ethos during the game.

Ryan is going with her to try to keep that from happening because Chris has been his friend and mentor for years. We know Ryan has an absent mother, unmentioned father, and a potentially turbulent family life, and he's been coming to HQSC for so long that it feels like home to him, that Chris and his kids feel like family. Laura has already killed Kaylee. Even if Ryan completely bought into the werewolf thing by now, that would be a tough pill for him to swallow, given his reaction to her death.

Then, they fall in the titular Quarry and suddenly have the option to express a completely unearned sort of camaraderie with each other. Why is Laura asking Ryan about his love life in the first place? The question about him being single makes sense as a dig, but it doesn't make any sense for her to ask about him being a 'brooding and mysterious loner' because... she hasn't actually seen him do anything brooding or mysterious? How did she even get that impression? If Laura's got some kind of borderline psychic intuition then this is really the worst possible use of that ability--she should have foreseen her need to go to that motel and stay the fuck out of locked storm shelters instead.

It doesn't make a lick of sense for her to say that Kaitlyn looks up to him either. She hasn't seen that. Hell, we as players haven't even seen that! Kaitlyn seems generally tolerant of but unimpressed by Ryan. She has the option to be impatient with him multiple times and even get the chyron that she's ‘losing respect’ for him if he suggests she take the gun and go after Nick instead. This seems like an objectively good idea, since she's a much better shot than Ryan, a fact which the game keeps telling us despite refusing to give her a gun until the last possible second, though maybe the concern is that she'd have to drag Nick back to the campfire herself. (Honestly, I think Kaitlyn could do it, I think she's like a mighty ant who can lift many times her own weight, but that's not what this post is about.)

Ryan, for his part, shouldn't really be willing to talk about any of this with Laura either. He canonically doesn't even want to talk to his coworkers about his animation school decision (in the office scene with Dylan and at the campfire with Emma if you choose truth like a lunatic) and he's known them for at least two months, if not for years attending the same camp. But he met Laura a few hours ago and is suddenly willing to spill his guts about who he does or doesn't have a crush on and who does/doesn't have 'the hots' for him, despite the only experience they have together being her leaving his friend of several years dead facedown in a pool and expressing a strong desire to kill his father figure? I simply do not buy it.

I'm not sure if this was supposed to go along with the relationship system that they scrapped or what (there's not a single shred of Ryan and Laura stuff in the datamine that I've been able to find), but all it really serves to do is muddy the waters by trying to force some level of intimacy on Ryan and Laura before the big confrontation at the Hackett House. But that confrontation itself should have been the thing that forged that intimacy between them and allowed them to go on to fight Silas together.

Overall, I think it's a major sign that the back third of the game got a very rushed and, frankly, bad chop job (which we know is true) and that they struggled to tie the resulting loose threads off in a way that made any kind of narrative sense. It's a shame, because the writing in The Quarry is actually way better than most people give it credit for, it just wasn't allowed to pay off in a lot of ways that clearly were intended.

[papaya-queen]

Soo I was looking at the future line up possibility for Prema… I thought I could share my thoughts.

Ollie Bearman – Announced to drive for Haas F1. Pretty predictable after his performance in Jeddah. Baky confirmed that he is ready for F1 and for the car he’s gonna get.

Kimi Antonelli – Announced to drive for Mercedes F1. It was almost certain with Toto pushing him. I’m kinda worried we’ll end up with a Logan type of situation but I’m still confident in his skills.

Arvid Lindblad – Announced to drive for Campos F2. It appears that Redbull Junior team and Campos have some sorts of arrangements so it’s a logical thing.

PREMA 2025 LINE-UP

F2

Gabriele Mini – Remarkable drive this season, I’m still gutted about the championship. Prema will likely keep him.

Dino Beganovic – I know it’s unlikely, the streets are saying that he’s going to less expensive team because of a lack of fund. But Prema might still try to keep him since they don’t have anyone else to sign in F2. (I’m trying to manifest it)

F3

Rafael Camara – He is absolutely crashing the FRECA championship so it’s just a logical step up for him. Plus, the Ferrati Driver Academy seems to be close with Prema.

James Wharton – He is in a really good position in the FRECA championship and has already made his F3 debut.

Alex Powell/Freddie Slater – Okay so this the complicated part. Freddie is MaxVerstappen2023-ing the Italian F4 championship and should go directly to F3. But he doesn’t have an academy backing… I think it’s by choice and good for him but without an academy backing him, trying to skip a level might be hard. So, my second guess is Alex Powell. Mercedes junior since a long time, he made his debut in single seater this year in Italian f4 and has shown really good results. He has multiple podiums in overall championship, several rookie wins, he is now leader of the rookie championship and 5th in overall. For comparison, Arvid Lindblad had 8 rookie wins, 4 pole positions and 6 wins in the whole season. Right now, with still two rounds left, Alex has 8 rookie wins, 5 podiums and 1 pole position. My other argument is that Mercedes might not want two drivers in the same championship which leads me to the next point.

FRECA

Rashid Al Dhaheri/Kean Nakamura Berta – Rashid had a good performance from him in F4. Good contender for a freca seat. Kean also had a really good performance especially for a rookie and with the help of Alpine he might go up.

This is where it gets complicated again.

Doriane Pin and Maya Weug could continue F1A since they are only in their first season. But they both had FRECA experience (Doriane currently, Maya in 2023 plus a round this year), and looking at their results in F1A this year, they could manage a transition towards FRECA. Doriane is likely to do so, continuing with Iron Dames or maybe switching to Prema. Maya could maybe transition with PREMA also.

And this where my point from earlier could take place. If Doriane continues in FRECA, Alex might not be on the FRECA line up especially if she continues with PREMA. Mercedes might not want two drivers in the same championship.

So third seat, either Alex Powell/Freddie Slater– So for the first two it’s the same argument as before. Freddie might not be able to jump directly to F3 and Alex might go here if Freddie get the seat.

F4

Honestly here guys, I have no idea. Tomass is likely to stay maybe with Kean and Dion. Prema might do the same as they did recently with Oleksandr Bondarev and bring Luna Fluxa in after she turn 15.

F1 Academy

Tina Haussman – Likely to stay for a second season. She hasn’t had the best luck in this season so she couldn’t prove her talent.

Nina Gademan – she’s likely to take a seat in F1A after her impressive debut.

??

So yeah, that was my little rant about Prema. Feel free to reblog or comment to add your opinion.

[yuseirra]

Ch 161~

Can't draw so much during the week..!

More commentary about 161..

I'm actually convinced Fatal and Mephisto should be Kamiki's song?? I think some things hint of it.

and that he DOES really care about Aqua.

and that he does have to do with Sarutahiko, Amenouzume's husband(although this part is a speculation)

More stuff in the read more:

(first written in another language and chatGPT helped me translate it... I can't write things like this twice ;v; it's a great world here. so convenient~)

Honestly, it's frustrating and a bit agonizing; what is this even about? The plot is stressful, but...

Still, being able to focus like this... I guess it’s a good thing to find a work that hooks you and makes you think deeply in some way.

LOL, it also means I’m living a life where I have enough time to care about a manga, even though I’m currently in a pretty tough spot.

This manga, whether it's in a good or bad direction, seems to be driving me crazy in its own way.

If I’m disappointed, I can always go read something else, (I even got permission from someone to draw a Persona fanfic fanart, but I’ve been too hooked on this manga to do it.. that fanfic was so good.. I need to do it sooner or later..).

But I was so confident about my analyses. Like, really... I’m usually good at picking up on these kinds of things? This manga is great at psychological portrayal, and it was amusing to analyze that, There are just too many things sticking out for me, and things feel uneasy.

It’s not about the pairing... It just keeps bothering me... Am I really missing the mark on this? I’m usually good at sensing these things...

Without the movie arc, this development would be fine, but that arc is sandwiched in there, and I interpreted the character based on that too...

Honestly, every time I listen to the songs, I get this strong feeling like, "This isn’t Aqua." The kind of emotions in these songs, it's not him that's singing them. It's the dad. I immediately posted about it when I first heard it in July. As soon as I heard it, I thought, "This is it," and got a gut feeling.

I really want to feel that emotion again.

Even if Kamiki does turn out to be a serial killer, I still think these songs could describe his inner state.

I think we’ll get some explanation in the next five chapters or so, even if it takes a bit longer.

Also, the expression Kamiki makes when Aqua stabs him is so genuine. Until that moment, he had been smiling, but...

If that expression was because he suddenly felt threatened with his life, it’s a bit pathetic. But... I don’t think that’s the case. What I really pay attention to are the emotional flow and expressions.

When Aqua says he wants to watch Ruby perform, the smile on Kamiki’s face... it’s soft. That’s... definitely a look of affection. It’s not like, “Oh, I've won him over!” or, “Yes, I’ve convinced him!” I interpreted it as Kamiki having paternal love, and there was a scene that backed up that idea earlier. I’m sure he really likes Aqua.

That’s not a bad expression. It’s more like, "Yeah, you wish to see Ruby, don't you. Go ahead, watch her. Keep living" (Which makes me wonder, is he really planning to harm Ruby? If he harms her, maybe he plans to do it after the Dome performance? But even that doesn’t make sense. Does that mean Aqua would have to come back to stab him AGAIN after that takes place?? Does it really add up to his logic for telling him to go watch her?)

Aqua says Kamiki will destroy Ruby’s future, but...

How exactly is he going to do that? Hasn't this guy literally done nothing? If they're talking about the Dome performance, at least that should go off without a hitch, right? So at least until then, Ruby would be safe?? So, Kamiki isn't planning to harm Ruby now at least, right? Even with that weird.. logic that he proposes (I hope he's lying about that tbh)

Then when Aqua smiles and says something like, "Haha, but I’ll just kill you and die with you," while pointing the knife at him again...

Kamiki’s expression at that moment really stands out, and it’s not like a twisted look of being frustrated about things not going his way. It’s not anger or annoyance he's feeling. It’s the same shocked and despairing expression we saw in chapters 146 and 153.

Aqua seems to have no clue what kind of person his father really is, huh? He can’t read him at all.

Honestly, from the way Kamiki speaks, I get the impression that he’s actually quite kind. He’s not saying anything too wrong.

Remember the scene where Ruby gets angry because people were talking carelessly about Ai’s death? Kamiki probably knows about that too. I think Aqua and Ai, and Ruby and Kamiki, are quite alike in nature. Kamiki might’ve felt a lot of grief over Ai at that time. I do believe he loved Ai.

The phrase, "People don’t want the truth," is pretty painful, especially if you think about Ai. That’s why Ai lived telling lies. Isn't Kamiki thinking about what's happened to her, then? By bringing that up? He should have felt it, loving/watching a person like her and what unfolded.. Ai died because of the truth that she had kids with him. Ugly fans like Ryosuke and Nino couldn't take her being less than perfect. Wouldn't this have hurt Kamiki too? The fact that they loved each other(At least Ai did genuinely, we know that) was unwanted. People could not accept that, and that's one of the reasons why they had to break up.

From the way Kamiki talks, it feels like he genuinely doesn’t want his son or daughter to go through that kind of pain.

I think Kamiki has a pretty good nature. When you look at how he speaks, it’s gentle, and he seems to genuinely care about Aqua and knows a lot about him. Maybe he’s been watching over him from afar for a long time? He probably even knows who his son has feelings for.

It really feels like Kamiki is trying to persuade him: "I’m fine with dying. But you, you have so many reasons to live, right? Shouldn’t you return to the people you care about?"

And, the way Kamiki reacts after Aqua stabs him also shows it. He’s visibly agitated afterward. His expression noticeably shifts to panic and darkness.

Wait... stop it, don’t do this! That’s what he says.

The way he’s talking to Aqua in that moment.

It’s not like, “How dare you?” but more like, “Aqua, please don’t do this.”

It really seems like he doesn’t want Aqua to die.

He’s really shocked by it.

From his expressions, he seems more shocked by Aqua getting stabbed than by his own fall, like he didn’t even know how to react properly. He's being grabbed onto but he isn't looking at the hands that are grabbing him, his line of sight is on Aqua there

The final expression he makes can seem really pathetic, but...

Oh man, I think that’s the truth of that situation.

And it makes sense because Ai dreamed of raising her kids with this guy. I think he could’ve been a really great father who adored his kids... at least until the point they separated. He was just really young back then.

Doesn’t this guy really love his kids? Even without the movie arc, there have been hints of his concern for them.

I’m not trying to interpret him kindly just because I particularly like or find this character attractive.

If he’s a serial killer psychopath, then yeah, he should die here. When I first got spoiled, my reaction was completely merciless. "Well, he should die if he's like that," I said. But...

I don’t think that’s the case. It really seems like he cares about Aqua.

Oh, and Kamiki’s soul being noble in the past is mentioned, right?

So, he was a good person before?

Well, I guess I wasn’t totally off in reading his character? LOL.

Does that mean he could be a fallen god?(could be a stretch, but there IS a lyric in fatal about fallenness!!!)

Sarutahiko is often described as a "noble" and "just" god, so it’s quite possible that Kamiki’s true nature is based on Sarutahiko, the husband of Ame-no-Uzume = Ai.

That couple was very affectionate, and according to the Aratate Shrine description, they even go as far as blessing marital relationships. Those gods really love each other. In that case, Ai being so fond and loving of Hikaru also makes sense. It could explain why she asked her kids to save him...

So, can't “Fatal” be his song? Maybe he’s fallen from grace?

The lyrics in "Fatal" say things like, "What should I use to fill in what’s missing?" Could that be about human lives? But did he really kill people? How can you save someone after that? That’s why I don’t think he went that far.

"Without you, I cannot live anymore"

“I would sacrifice anything for you”

This isn’t Aqua. This is Kamiki.

Would Aqua do that much for Ai? He shouldn’t be so blind.

When I listened to "Fatal," I immediately thought of "Mephisto" because the two songs are so similar in context.

They’re sung by the same narrator, aren’t they? That made it clear what Kamiki’s purpose was, which is why I started drawing so much about him and Ai after that.

He keeps saying he’ll give up his life and that he wants to see Ai again. This isn’t Aqua! These feelings are different from what Aqua has.

At first, I thought because Ruby = Amaterasu, with Tsukuyomi having shown up, and Aqua perhaps having relations to Susanoo (he’s falling into the sea this time, right? LOL) I wondered if Ai and her boyfriend’s story was based on the major myth of Izanagi and Izanami, since they’re so well-known.

That myth is famous for how the husband tries to save his wife after she dies, though he fails in the end.

The storyline is similar to Mephisto’s, so I thought, "Could this be it?"

And then I realized Sarutahiko and Ame-no-Uzume's lores also fit really well. Ai thinking Kamiki was like a jewel when they first met is similar to how Ame-no-Uzume saw Sarutahiko shining when they first met. Sarutahiko guiding Ame-no-Uzume is similar to how Hikaru taught Ai how to act. They even had descendants that have a title that means "maiden who's good at dancing" The two also fell for each other at first sight. The shrine the characters visit in the story is supposedly where those two met and married. If they REALLY are those gods in essence, It feels like something went wrong with the wish because one or both of them became twisted.

Anyway, I think Kamiki was originally noble but fell from grace, and it’s likely that Ai’s death was the catalyst.

But I’m not sure if he really went as far as killing people.

What is Tsukuyomi even talking about? I’ve read it several times, and I still don’t fully understand.

I really hope she's wrong because… killing others to make Ai’s name carry more weight? That doesn’t make any sense. What does “the weight of her name” supposed to mean?? I don't think that's something that should be taken just at face value, I feel like there's more behind this idea.

What kind of logic is that? And on top of that, I can’t understand why Ai’s life would become more valuable if Kamiki dies. It just doesn’t follow.

Why would he even say that?

He must be really confident... Does he think he’s someone greater than Ai?

Even so, how does it connect?

I read two books today, because I started wondering if my reading comprehension has dropped. Thankfully, I’m still able to read books just fine. It’s not like I can’t read, you know? I’ve taken media literacy classes and pride myself on not having terrible reading comprehension.

I tried to make sense of what exactly the heck this may mean, and I think.. if it were to mean something like, “I’ll offer my life as a sacrifice to Ai,” I’d at least get that. That kind of logic, in a way, has some practical meaning.

Kamiki talked about sacrifices? tributes? offerings? in chapter 147. I really remember certain scenes clearly because I’ve gone over them carefully. In that case, if Kamiki dies, then the weight or value of his life would transfer to Ai, and that would “help” her, right?

If the story is going in that direction,

when I look at “Mephisto” and “Fatal,” I can see that by doing this, Kamiki would have a chance to either save Ai or get closer to her. At least that makes some sense.

But is it really right for Ai to ask someone to save Kamiki, who killed others? As soon as the idea of it came up, I knew something was up.

Because of what Ai's wanted, I think it’s possible that Kamiki didn’t actually go that far. In the songs, they talk about gathering light and offering something, but they don’t say anything about killing people… Kamiki said he’d sacrifice his own life. People around him may have died, but…

Kamiki’s true personality doesn’t seem like the type to do that… And looking at his actions when Aqua was stabbed??

He hasn’t shown any direct actions yet, so I still don’t know how far he’d actually go.

It’s not that I don’t believe Tsukuyomi’s words entirely,

but I don’t think the conclusion is going to be something like, “Ai should’ve never met Kamiki.”

Every time we see Kamiki’s actual actions, there’s this strange gentleness to him, and that’s what’s confusing me.

The more I look closely, the weirder it feels, and something about it just bothers me. If Kamiki were truly just a completely crazy villain, I’d think, “Oh, so that’s who he is,” and I wouldn’t deny it.

But each time, I start thinking that maybe Ai didn’t meet someone so strange after all? Ai liked him that much, so on that front, it makes sense to me. I want to believe that’s the right conclusion. I mean, doesn’t what he says sound kind? Isn’t he gentle?

No, but seriously, when Kamiki listened to Aqua’s reasons for wanting to live, I thought his expression was warm. It didn’t seem like some calculated expression like “according to plan” like Light Yagami. It felt more like a fond, affectionate expression. I draw too, you know. I pay a lot of attention to expressions. This character often makes expressions that really stand out.

It’s like he’s genuinely trying to convince Aqua not to do anything reckless. Maybe I’m being soft on Kamiki because he’s Ai’s boyfriend? But actually, it’s not like that?

I mean, I’m the type who’s like, “Anyone who did something bad to Ai should die!!” It’s because he’s a character. If this were a real person, I wouldn’t so casually tell someone to go die or say such strong things.

But… he seems like a good person.

+It’s a small thing, but why did Kamiki drop his phone while talking about Ruby? Ppft If you drop it from that height, it’d probably crack. Was he trying to look cool? (It’s an Apple phone, huh.) Is he a bit clumsy? Well... since it looks like him and Aqua are about to fall into the sea, maybe it was a blessing he did so. The phone might be saved after all. If he manages to climb out of there, he could contact someone with that phone.

[rosanna-writer]

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (5/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally...

Warnings: None

Thank you again to @itsthedoodle for beta-ing my gift for @the-lonelybarricade!

Ch. 1 - Got a Feelin' 'bout the Headline | Ch. 2 - Beautiful. Smart. Independent. | Ch. 3 - Guts and Glory | Ch. 4 - Dead or Dreamin' | Ch. 5 - Something to Believe in

You can read the fifth chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore.

A mating bond was a massive, overwhelming thing. Feyre didn’t have the words to talk about it—didn’t even know where to start. It all seemed safer if her suspicions stayed suspicions.

The moment she voiced them aloud, her whole life would change.

For just a little while longer, she wanted to stay Feyre-the-newsie, not Feyre-the-prince’s-mate. And it felt good to give in to the urging of the thread in her chest—her mind went pleasantly blank every time Rhys’s lips touched hers. She wanted to drown in him and forget about everything else.

She started to reach for the buttons of his jacket, but a broad hand covered hers. “Mother above, Feyre,” Rhys murmured, huffing a soft laugh, “we don’t have to do this on a rooftop.”

Feyre started to protest—after all, they’d have even less privacy if she brought him down to her crowded, shared bedroom in the tenement below—but before she could get the words out, her feet were off the floor. Rhys had slid his hands beneath her knees and shoulders to scoop her up.

Her stomach flipped. If being cradled against his chest didn’t feel quite so nice, she would have wiggled her way out of his arms. She still had half a mind to do it, just to spite him for not giving her any warning.

Rhys snapped his wings out wide. She felt the slight bend in his knees, as if he were about to— “Don’t take off without telling me where we’re going,” she said quickly.

“The House of Wind,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.

A blush crept up her cheeks. “You’re…taking me home?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not an ill-mannered brute.”

They shot into the sky, and the rushing wind drowned out any of Feyre’s further complaints. All she could do was loop an arm behind his neck and cling to him even tighter.

Feyre was built for the shadows—not the open skies. As the city fell away beneath them, she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the hard warmth of Rhys’s body against hers. With each beat of his wings, she could feel the powerful muscles of his back and chest at work. An Illyrian warrior exactly where he belonged.

But still, it was something of a relief to feel the world fade into mist as he winnowed them. He was impatient, she realized. The flight wouldn’t take more than a few minutes, but apparently that was too long to wait.

In the space of a heartbeat, they were in the sky again, this time directly above the House of Wind. Rhys held his wings out as they descended past the wards in a smooth glide. The balcony rushed towards them, but Feyre barely felt anything as Rhys’s feet touched the stone floor.

She didn’t feel like she belonged in the palace—especially not after the High Lord had called her there earlier just to intimidate her. Feyre spent her life on the streets, never anywhere this opulent. She couldn’t shake the feeling, ridiculous as it was, that they’d be caught any moment and she’d be forced to leave.

Rhys set her down, and on instinct, Feyre made herself incorporeal again. He hadn’t dropped her hand, and the shadows skittering along her skin extended down her arm, enveloping him, too.

“There’s no need to hide,” Rhys said. “In case you’ve forgotten, I live here, and I invited you.”

“Don’t be a prick. There might be problems if we run into someone,” Feyre said. She was sure the High Lord wouldn’t be thrilled to see her again—and she was fairly certain Rhys’s sister was also somewhere nearby.

“After all those headlines about how many people I’ve brought to my bedroom, no one will be scandalized, I assure you.”

Feyre growled, and perhaps that should have embarrassed her. But it was a relief to stop pretending she hadn’t been envious of everyone the press had linked to him romantically over the years.

Something sparked in Rhys’s eyes, an excited gleam that made Feyre’s toes curl in her boots. He’d liked that low, possessive sound when it came from her.

“I thought it would be obvious by now,” he said, “but apparently I hadn’t made myself clear before. You are the very last person I’m bringing to my bed and the one I want there the most.”

She knew why. But she still said, “Prove it.”

In an instant, Rhys was tugging her through walls and furniture. He seemed completely unbothered by temporarily becoming incorporeal, which was unusual—Lucien had always complained the shadows felt like spiders crawling all over his skin. Maybe it was different for mates.

Feyre let the shadows fade when they reached a room that could only have been his—bed large enough for wings, desk covered in paperwork and the sword she’d seen him brandishing the other day, curtains rustling gently in the glassless window.

Curiosity got the better of her, but only for a moment. Rhys had used their joined hands to pull her against him, and his tongue was already pressing its way between her lips again.

Perhaps his way of proving he wanted her there was just…devouring her whole.

Not that she was the sort of person to just stand there and get devoured. Feyre had heard all the rumors about Illyrian wings, so she reached for his, brushing a hand against the membrane just to see what would happen.

Rhys groaned, and they were pressed so close that Feyre felt every inch of his full-body shudder.

So there had been some truth to the stories she’d heard, then. She reached out and pressed a little harder against his wing—the taut skin was cool to the touch, silky and surprisingly soft. Slowly, she dragged her hand down.

Rhys’s hips bucked against hers, and Feyre couldn’t help but giggle. “Did you just…” she said.

“No, but I will shortly if you keep that up.”

That sounded like encouragement, so she stretched her hand out again. Rhys snapped his wings back before she could touch them.

“If you can’t last very long, I promise I won’t leak the story to the press.”

“My stamina isn’t an issue,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again. It was softer than on the rooftop, his hands settling gently on her hips. “As I told you, I’m not an ill-mannered brute. Ladies first.”

Before Feyre could respond, he was already on his knees. Splaying one broad hand across her stomach, he pressed her back against the door, then hooked one of her legs over his shoulder.

There had been a flurry of headlines about Rhys refusing to kneel to his father in protest, then several more after an interview where he’d revealed the mountain and stars tattooed on his knees—that they meant he’d bow to nothing and no one but his crown. It had been dangerously close to declaring an intent to kill his father and take the throne.

But he’d knelt for her without a second thought. His crown and his—

No. Feyre wouldn’t let herself think it again.

Besides, Rhys was already hooking his fingers in the waistband of her pants. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes. As if now, she might actually change her mind. She’d never known him to look unsure of anything.

She nearly managed to say what they were to each other, just to wipe the doubt from his face. But Feyre wasn’t quite brave enough to manage it. Not yet.

“Keep going, please,” she said, hoping it was enough.

Rhys peeled the threadbare leggings down, and Feyre gripped his shoulder to steady herself as the fabric stretched around her knees. But that hand pinning her to the door wouldn’t let her fall.

He pressed a kiss to the bottom of her abdomen, and Feyre couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been so soft with her.

There was nothing hesitant in the first sweep of his tongue, a slow stripe up her center. Too much, but not enough. Feyre whined and canted her hips closer.

With a satisfied growl, Rhys feasted on her in earnest, licking and sucking every part of her he could reach. Feyre writhed, her hand on his shoulder digging into the fabric of his jacket. A wave of knee-wobbling pleasure was building within her, and the fingers of her other hand scraped uselessly against the wooden door.

The relentless strokes of his tongue didn’t slow despite his hand reaching up to interlace his fingers with hers.

Feyre squeezed his hand with enough force to crush his fingers as release crashed through her. Breathing hard, she started to slide her leg off his shoulder. The hand on her stomach pressed her back into the door, holding her in place.

His voice echoed in her head; with his tongue already slipping inside her again, Rhys couldn’t speak aloud. You taste too magnificent to stop after just one.

There was nothing to do but let him wring more pleasure from her. Rhys seemed to be intent on making her climax as many times in a row as he could, at least until Feyre finally managed to whisper, “I want the next one with you inside me.”

She kicked her leggings the rest of the way to the floor as he stood and lifted her up. Without his mouth on her, her head finally started to clear, and it suddenly seemed massively unfair he was still completely clothed.

He carried her towards the bed, and once her shaking legs were locked around him, Feyre tore at the buttons of his jacket. The rest of their clothes disappeared with a crackle of magic.

Quite a lot of ink had already been spilled about Rhysand’s chest. Since he’d won the Blood Rite and earned his tattoos, he’d favored plunging vee necklines to show them off, and it wasn’t unusual for him to stumble out of Rita’s missing the tunic he’d gone in with. Feyre had certainly never complained—not when that chest splashed across the front page sold so many papers.

But none of that prepared her for how good it would feel to run a possessive hand down the expanse of hard muscle.

Feyre couldn’t make promises—not with a one-way ticket to the Continent in her pocket. If she was leaving, it wasn’t fair to snarl and call him hers and no one else’s.

She wanted to, though. Cauldron, she wanted to.

He was staring down at her like he wanted the same thing, and it was all too much. They were coming dangerously close to blurting out a confession, so she plunged her fingers into his hair and dragged his lips towards hers again.

It was another hungry, open-mouthed kiss, and it felt far better than talking. Feyre tipped her hips up, a silent plea to keep going. Her clit brushed the underside of his cock, drawing a mewling sound she made right into his mouth.

Needy little thing, aren’t you? The words floated into her head as if carried on a night-kissed wind.

I’m not needy, you’re just slow. I told you what I want.

The thread tying them together—that Feyre was still trying very hard to ignore—seemed to hum with wicked amusement. She lifted her hand from his head and stretched it over his shoulder.

She could feel the rumble of his low laugh as he tucked his wing out of her reach. His hips shifted, and his considerable length slid into her.

The stretch was ecstasy. There was no way around it—Rhys’s cock was big, just like the rest of him. He moved slowly at first, and Feyre let her eyes flutter shut as she just savored the feeling of him filling her up.

It was nearly too much, but at the same time the instincts driven by the bond in her chest pushed her to take him deeper and demand more. She pressed her hips up, taking every inch of him she could. 

It was all the urging he needed to go faster. Suddenly, Rhys was fucking her like his life depended on it. He was far from Feyre’s first partner, but she’d never had someone chase her climax so relentlessly. There was nothing to do but give into it until she shattered around him.

He was breathing hard when Feyre came back to herself. She knew she should have smirked, said something blasé to make it clear this was just a bit of fun before she left for the Continent. Made it clear this was casual so she could ignore the bond in her chest just a little while longer.

But no, whether it was the mating bond or something else, Rhys had just utterly ruined her for anyone else. And based on the way he was looking at her…he felt the same way about her, too.

Leaning down, Rhys rolled them both over until they were on their sides. The mess they’d made disappeared from between her legs with half a thought.

“Stay,” he whispered into her shoulder. “Please.”

Feyre let herself believe he only meant for the night. After all, she’d have to be back here in the morning for the start of negotiations anyway. Not forever.

“I will,” she whispered back, pulling him tighter.

Even during bombshell tell-all interviews, none of Rhys’s lovers had ever mentioned his wings, and most of them had stumbled out of his bedroom or bid him goodbye before he skittered home. Feyre pillowed her head on his massive bicep, tangling her legs with his as his wing blanketed them both.

Warm and safe, she drifted off and let herself dream.

Out of habit, Feyre woke just as the eastern sky began to lighten. She wanted to linger a bit longer—she couldn’t remember ever sleeping on a mattress free of lumps before—but years of poverty had shaped her into an expert at dragging herself out of bed.

She started to wiggle free of Rhys’s hold, but he let out a sleepy, irritated growl. The arm around her waist tightened.

“I can’t be late for my own strike. Don’t be a prick,” she whispered.

His reply slipped into her mind, as if he weren’t awake enough to speak aloud quite yet. You can’t be late when you’re already here.

She still needed to bathe and change. Pulitzer and the High Lord would laugh her out of the room if she arrived at the negotiation table in yesterday’s clothes and reeking of Rhysand and arousal. If word got out, that would certainly—

Did you really plan on taking all ten thousand steps instead of just using my tub? Rhys asked, interrupting her train of thought.

She had. It seemed easier than asking to use his bathing chamber and borrow some clothes. Feyre didn’t regret what they’d done last night, but she’d get her head on straight easier in the familiar territory of the Rainbow instead of staying in the House of Wind a moment longer.

And Feyre needed to be sharp today.

Before she could protest, one of Rhys’s legs joined the arm twined around her. Something deep within seemed to purr in satisfaction as he pressed her flush against him. Stay. You can sleep for another hour and still have plenty of time to make yourself presentable.

It made sense. And even if it didn’t, Feyre suspected the thread in her chest would pull her right back to him. A contented little noise escaped her as she tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes.

Golden light streamed in through the glassless window when Rhys nudged her awake again. Feyre lifted her head and spotted a gown folded on top of a chest of drawers. Someone—Rhys, presumably he didn’t allow servants in his room while he slept—had placed her cap atop it.

“You needed something to change into,” he said, answering the question before she could ask.

This time, when Feyre pulled away, he let her. To her immense relief, Rhys didn’t try to kiss her good morning. Feyre’s mind was already on business, and she didn’t need him setting her head spinning.

After pointing her to the bathing room, Rhys set off to handle breakfast. Probably just because he was making himself useful. Feyre did need to eat, after all.

Definitely that, and not to head off any possibility that she might be the one to find food and offer it to him.

Feyre thought that she’d feel more herself after she’d gotten something in her stomach and washed her face. But the flaky, layered pastry and impossibly fluffy eggs were nothing at all like the porridge she usually breakfasted on, and the fine fabric of the gown must have cost more than she’d ever make in a lifetime of selling newspapers.

It fit perfectly. Just a bit of good luck—Rhys certainly didn’t know her measurements, even if as the heir, he probably kept a small army of seamstresses on retainer. Feyre supposed his sister or Mor had just lent her a spare gown. Probably.

Their eyes met in the mirror as she slipped the newsie cap onto her head. Just like at home, it was the very last step Feyre took before venturing out for another day of hawking papers. It had never made her feel quite so much like a knight slipping on a helmet before battle.

“Are you ready?” Rhys said, offering his arm to her.

Feyre took it, oddly grateful for something steady to hold onto. Her hand brushed the fabric of his tunic, and she realized their clothes were made of the same cloth. As if the two of them were a matched set.

A pair, equals matched by—

She cut off that line of thought before she could finish it. Rhys didn’t blink; her shields must have been intact, and she thanked the Mother for that. Besides, there wasn’t time to be distracted, not when they were already headed towards the meeting rooms in the more public sections of the House of Wind.

They paused at one of the main balconies, where Feyre and Nesta had agreed they’d meet the other day. It was empty. Feyre stared at the door, hoping Nesta was just late.

It wasn’t like her sister to forget. Not when there was money on the table.

The sound of rustling wings pulled Feyre’s attention to the window. An Illyrian. And in his arms…Nesta. She’d tucked her head just under his chin, resting it against his chest, as if he often cradled her like this.

Feyre recognized the male, another war-hero friend of Rhys’s, who’d graced front pages since the war. They’d never met, Feyre remembered shouting the headline about the building that he’d leveled in Adriata. That one had sold more papers than all the stories about his courage on the battlefield and swift promotions through the ranks. Cassian, if she wasn’t mistaken.

As the pair landed, Rhysand slipped into Feyre’s mind again. I wasn’t aware they knew each other.

Neither was I.

They’d discuss it later. Nesta was already dropping gracefully to the floor and smoothing out her skirts. “Work has already halted in Illyria,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “They’re following through on their promises of support.”

The faint sound of chanting floated all the way up to the very top of the House of Wind. Hundreds of newsies and their lesser fae supporters rallied at the base of the stairs, accompanied by Illyrian war drums. Feyre could just barely make out the words— minute by minute, that’s how you win it.

When she turned to her sister, Feyre’s smile was grim. “Then let’s go hand Pulitzer his ass.” 

***

For Rhysand, watching Feyre negotiate was exquisite torture. She handled herself like a queen—like a High Lady, really. A businesswoman who’d gotten down to brass tacks as soon as everyone was seated.

“The Illyrian warriors have chosen to lay their weapons down in solidarity with the newsies of Velaris,” she’d said. “We have you surrounded, and Lieutenant Cassian can confirm. Until we sign a fair contract, the Night Court will be without an army.”

But as much as he admired the efficiency, Rhys couldn’t help but hate it, just a bit. She’d be gone when the strike ended.

He tried not to think about it, instead choosing to observe his father. Rhys had expected far more bluster from the High Lord—the newsies had, after all, essentially arranged for insubordination on a massive scale. But the High Lord had gone strangely quiet.

To Rhys, that spelled danger. He knew from experience that if the High Lord wasn’t making a show of power in front of others, it was because he was waiting to do something more devastating in public.

Rhys tried not to shiver when ebony claws speared his mind, ripping down his shields. His father never bothered to knock out of courtesy.

You can keep her. The words rang with ancient power, and Rhys tried not to bristle at the way his father spoke about his mate as if she were a stray dog.

Then what was the point of that one-way ticket to the Continent?

If she doesn’t use it, a daughter-in-law I can send to beat the governors of the Palaces into submission would be useful. Merchants often get cocky and mistake their wealth for true power. And if she leaves the Night Court…well, you won’t see me complaining if the trash takes itself out.

Rhys growled, low in his throat. The negotiations ground to a halt as every head in the room whipped in his direction. On instinct, he reached towards his hip for a sword, though he hadn’t carried one since coming home from the war.

His eyes flicked to Pulitzer. “I agree with Feyre,” Rhys said evenly, covering up the fact that he’d been speaking mind-to-mind with his father. “That proposal would be unacceptable.”

He’d been too distracted to hear what the proposal had even been, but it seemed to be the right answer. The talks resumed, even if Feyre did shoot him a brief confused look.

The High Lord didn’t invade Rhys’s mind again, but he didn’t need to. He’d made is position clear. Instead, Rhys sat back and continued to marvel at how well Feyre held her own as the details of the agreement were hammered out.

Nesta communicated with the rest of the newsies, making sure there would be support for the contract when they put it to a vote, working in tandem with Feyre, who dug her heels in with Pulitzer.

He challenged her on every single aspect of the deal, a transparent attempt to wear her down. A sound strategy, considering the resources at his disposal. But fortunately, the well of Archeron stubbornness was infinite.

Eventually, they came to what Feyre termed “a compromise we all can live with.” To let Pulitzer save face, the price of papers would still go up, if only by half of what he’d originally planned, but in return, the publishers would buy back the unsold papers at the end of the day.

A victory—fewer losses for the newsies to eat when papers didn’t sell on slow news days.

The sun had long since set by the time they finished it all—the back-and-forth, the voting, the signatures, spitting into palms and shaking over deals, celebrations with Elain and Nesta and Lucien and the rest of the newsies. By some miracle, Feyre had allowed Rhys to stay at her side throughout all of it.

Once it had all ended, they found themselves alone, walking along the Sidra. A last look before Feyre left. Rhys wanted to mention it—and perhaps try and change her mind—but the words caught in his throat each time he tried. He’d thought about offering his arm, but Feyre had kept her hands jammed firmly in her pockets.

If last night had merely been a distraction before a long day…he understood. Watching the lights glitter on the surface of the Sidra with Feyre nearby was more than enough.

It wasn’t Rhys who finally broke their companionable silence. He tensed at the sound of hurried footsteps behind them, then the abrupt silence as whoever it was winnowed to catch up.

“I’ve been looking for you two everywhere,” Mor said, materializing on Feyre’s other side.

Rhys glared at her over the top of Feyre’s head, irritated by the interruption. “Have you now?” he said, voice icy.

“I was positive you’d be at Ressina’s, but when I asked around, no one there knew where you’d slipped off to.”

“And you didn’t consider that might have been because we didn’t want to be found?”

Mor stuck her tongue out at Rhys, earning a laugh from Feyre. “I needed to catch Feyre before she left,” Mor said. “Ressina let me have the stack of paintings you were going to leave behind. There was a portrait of your friend, the one with the mechanical eye. Apparently he’s quite the charmer—flirts with them all when they buy their daily paper. They were horrified to hear the High Lord sent him to the Prison. After the fuss they made, Rhys’s father is going to start sending petty thieves somewhere more humane than an island full of monsters.”

Feyre stopped in her tracks, so abruptly that Rhys nearly walked into her. For a moment, she stood rooted to the spot, blinking in surprise.

“All that because of my art?” Feyre said slowly.

Mor nodded. “I wanted to make sure you knew. That was just one portrait, so just think of all the good you could do. And congratulations on the victory today.”

“I—”

Before Feyre could get the rest of the words out, Mor pulled her into a rib-crushing hug. Rhys raised his brows, locking eyes with his cousin over his mate’s shoulder. Mor winked and flashed him a grin.

“Safe travels, Feyre,” Mor said, giving her one last squeeze before winnowing away.

“She’s right, you know. Your paintings could do a lot of good here,” Rhys said quietly.

Feyre merely nodded, her gaze flicking back to the lights of the Rainbow. She seemed to be staring at the view as if she were trying to memorize it. They were silent, and it took all of Rhys’s willpower not to slip into her mind to find out what she was thinking.

“I should get home and pack,” she whispered.

“So should I.”

Feyre stilled. For a moment, Rhys thought she might disappear into a shadow. But she said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I wasn’t aware you held a monopoly on leaving for the Continent tomorrow. Unless you don’t want company.”

“But don’t you have obligations here? Work, your family?”

“Don’t you?” Rhys said. When Feyre said nothing in response, just opened her mouth and closed it—he knew he’d won. More softly, he added, “If you want to get out of the city, there’s somewhere I’d like to show you. We can leave now if you want.”

Feyre’s cheeks went pink, but perhaps that was just the cold night air. “Alright.”

She reached out a hand, clearly expecting that he’d take it and lead her somewhere. But Rhys scooped her into his arms instead. To his surprise, she didn’t protest, just looped an arm behind his neck to steady herself, comfortable and familiar.

Rhys let his heart swell before winnowing them to the cabin in Illyria.

This far north, it was even colder, and Feyre shivered, pressing herself closer as Rhys glided to the ground. They could have walked from the edge of the wards—it was only a few yards. But it had been a long day, and some part of him wanted to carry Feyre instead of putting her back on her feet.

“What is this place?” she said, finally wiggling out of his arms after they’d crossed the threshold.

“Traditionally? It’s where the wayward youths of my family have been sent for ‘reflection’ for millennia. But I thought you might want the peace and quiet,” he said.

Rhys waved a hand, and a fire sprang to life, lighting up the cabin and warming it. Snow hadn’t fallen yet, but out of habit, he toed off his shoes and placed them near the door. Feyre did the same, apparently following his lead. She sighed, and Rhys could practically feel the tension melting off of her as she closed her eyes.

“Thank you. It’s like I can finally hear myself think.”

It was exactly what Rhys suspected she really needed—a break. Even if a new life on the Continent seemed appealing, everyone she loved was in Velaris. But if Feyre didn’t agree…there would be no forcing her to stay.

He couldn’t let her leave without telling her the full truth, either.

Rhys forced himself to say, “We need to talk, and no one will disturb us here.”

“I think we do.”

There it was again—that tug, right behind his heart. The first time, Rhys had hoped he wasn’t mistaken, and after feeling it again, he was more sure. Feyre knew. And hopefully she wasn’t about to rake him over the coals.

He ushered them into the living room and gestured for her to sit. Out of habit, his movements had gone stiff and formal, though he longed to pull her close and share a blanket. But he wasn’t sure that would be welcome. Instead, he kept a careful distance between them as he sank onto the sofa.

“Feyre,” Rhys said, forcing himself to look at her. Each word felt like it was dragged out of him. “You’re my—”

“Mate. I know.”

Rhys flinched—the words sounded like a rebuke. And there was a harsh finality when the words were spoken aloud for the first time. They couldn’t be taken back. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry that we’re mates? Or is there something else you’re about to confess to me?” Her voice went sharp, and Rhys wished he could disappear.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” he said quietly.

“How long have you known?”

“The bond snapped a few months after meeting you. That day our fingers brushed as you handed me the paper—I think the contact triggered it.”

Another tug. This time, Rhys pulled back, just because there was no fear of being found out this time. Feyre’s hand flew to her chest, eyes going wide.

“It’s real, isn’t it?” she said, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I felt the spark that day, too. But you were such a flirt—with everyone —and I didn’t want to be some deluded girl who convinced herself it was more than a bit of fun.”

“I thought you would have noticed the headlines about my love life stopped after I met you.”

“I did. I just…didn’t think it had anything to do with me. At least not until recently. And then we were in the middle of the strike, and it’s not as if you had an opening to tell me.”

“I didn’t want to burden you with it.” Rhys still didn’t. It was honestly a wonder that Feyre hadn’t rejected the bond already; she’d shouted headlines about enough kidnapping and assassination attempts to know what a life with him would be like.

Feyre slid her hand across the sofa, interlacing their fingers. “It’s not a burden, but I need time. Can it be just us for a while? No High Lords, no labor unions, no newspapers.”

Word would get out eventually. They’d been seen together often enough in the past few days, and Rhys could hardly slip out of Velaris unnoticed. But if they stayed at the cabin, they could put it off for a while.

He pressed a kiss to their joined hands. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Another tug, but not behind his ribs this time. Feyre was pulling him closer, until Rhys lost his balance and they became a tangle of limbs and nearly tumbled off the sofa together. Her breath tickled his ear as she let out a peal of laughter. Rhys hooked a leg around her waist, twisting until she was on top of him the way he liked.

It was a while before they actually made it to the bed. And even longer until he finally fell asleep with a wing blanketing them both.

Rhys woke to a claw poking at his shields. Not hard, but insistent. His father would have just pushed his way in, which meant the daemati who wanted his attention must have been his sister.

He opened a crack for her, one just wide enough to say, Go away.

I’m outside.

Go. Away.

I’m coming in. Make sure you’re decent.

Truthfully, he was lucky Rhiannon hadn’t pounded on the door to wake up Feyre, too. Rhys bit back a snarl and slowly slid out of the bed; hopefully, he could get his sister to leave before Feyre even realized someone else had been there. With a flick of his wrist, Rhys summoned a robe and slipped it on, hurrying to the door.

Rhiannon was already in the entranceway, running a hand through windswept hair. Her dark cheeks and the tip of her nose had a pink tinge from the early morning cold—she must have flown here.

“Mother’s tits, how the hell did you two make this place stink so badly in just one night?” Rhiannon said, making a face.

“What are you doing here?” Rhys said.

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “Meeting my new sister because you couldn’t be bothered to introduce us before running off.”

“She’s not your—” A shuffling sound from the other room cut him off; Feyre must have woken up. Rhys snarled, then slipped into Rhiannon’s mind to add, Do not ruin this for me.

Ignoring the sound of her snickering, Rhys turned to see nothing more than the faint outline of Feyre creeping through the shadows. She’d gone incorporeal, probably because she was shy.

“We can go back to bed. Rhiannon was just leaving,” Rhys said pointedly.

Rhiannon pushed past him, nearly smacking Rhys in the face with a wing. Feyre materialized fully and, still a bit groggy from sleep, blinked at them both owlishly.

Rhiannon reached into a pocket dimension and pulled out a copy of the Herald . “I’m just here to make a delivery, and I’ll be out of your hair,” she said, holding it out to Feyre.

Feyre took the paper and unrolled it. Rhys stepped closer, reading the headline over her shoulder. Newsies Stop the Presses: Historic Lesser Fae Coalition Secures Labor Win. The accompanying picture had been taken just after they’d inked the deal, a smiling Feyre flanked by her sisters and Lucien in the House of Wind.

Rhys heard his mate’s breath catch, and he decided that perhaps he wouldn’t kill his sister for this after all.

“After all that time you spent selling the paper, it just seemed fair to bring it to you when you’re finally in it,” Rhiannon added, a bit more softly.

Feyre smiled. “Thank you.”

To Rhys’s shock, Feyre accepted a hug from his sister, and true to her word, Rhiannon slipped back out after that. Thank the Mother she hadn’t insisted on staying for breakfast.

Once the door shut and they were alone again, Rhys said, “I suppose if we head back to bed, tomorrow’s headline will be about the mountains shaking.”

Feyre laughed and took her cap off the hook where she’d hung it near the door. Pressing a kiss to Rhys’s cheek, she put the cap on his head. “We’ll make a newsie of you yet, mate.”

It was only a matter of time before he made her a High Lady, too.

[danthropologie]

Re the previous ask about blake holding camera = he knew

1. He has his camera in every race. I don’t know if Blake holding it meant anything.

2. He had his parents out in AD22. With SG being closer, his parents would have made it even if it was by flying private. His gf wasn’t there in AD22 either, so not making that comparison

3. Compare his pre-race interview (not even the media day one) during the parade. Complete change from the post race interview. Complete change in demeanour

Combining 2 & 3, if he knew earlier, the earliest could be right before the race. Then why would management do sth like that before the race? (Then again why does rbr do anything atp?) That man knew nothing concrete going into the weekend, just like he predicted nothing amiss before the summer break. That hell video wasn’t for nothing - no one can make me believe otherwise

Alternatively, he himself might have given rbr the ultimatum hoping to force their hand and when they didn’t get back, he finally realised he was done playing this game. He was finally disillusioned. ofc helping max was one part (i genuinely believe that played in his mind when he was asked for the FL) and sticking to mcl was another part, but at the end if the record breaking lap was what he could take away in what he believed was his last moment in the lap, he put his entire ricussy into getting it.

As much as I want to remain delulu, i think (with extreme sadness) this is it for him. Not because it’s over, but HOW it’s over. All because they decided to keep a bum like Checo. I’m ambivalent towards Yuki, but heck I am even angry on his behalf too. Genuinely gutted that rb did DR dirtier than mcl and that’s saying sth, considering all he had done for rbr and how CH and rbr paraded him around as their family member. Will never forgive them. Rbr’s downfall is gonna be something else altogether and you best believe that I will be there to witness and bask in it.

so what you're saying is that clip of helmut going over to daniel just before the race, he was actually inflicting psychological torture on him saying "you better fucking beat that guy or you're out of the sport. good luck! 😉"

no but seriously, i was with you right up until the end bit 😭😭😭 even the idea of giving them some sort of 'red bull or nothing' ultimatum that sent him spiraling i could get on board with. but i don't agree that it's over.

the crazy thing to me is that for as far as it ended up spiraling out, to ME it really just feels like a complex series of misunderstandings and miscalculations (not including the media's part in it cause i think they WERE malicious in their handling of it).

the daniel of it all is the worst part to me because obviously by the end of the weekend he HAD been convinced that it may in fact be the end. i don't believe that that was ever actually the case, but between the confidence in the way the media was reporting it, the lack of clarity from red bull, the trauma and insecurities left from 2022 mclaren and maybe even rbr over this past summer break, and the mental and emotional toll the race itself actually took on him, he was clearly worn down and left in a very vulnerable state where he drew the only real conclusions anyone in his position COULD draw.

meanwhile you have vcarb who apparently didn't know a single fucking thing, so they COULDN'T say anything because there's nothing TO say.

and then you have red bull. now clearly they DO hold some responsibility for the whole thing. they knew what the narratives were going into the weekend, and it should have been easy for them to just clarify that all drivers are going to see out the season, 2025 decision to come later. BUT that being said, i truly do not think they had any clue whatsoever just how big this thing was gonna get. i think they miscalculated in thinking a) it wasn't going to be that big and b) daniel would be able to handle it. he's done it so many times before! why wouldn't he be able to do it again! but then obviously by the time daniel's having his little menty b in the middle of the media pen, it's too late, there's not really anything they can do.

like jenna @accio-ricciardo brought up this idea the other day that it's almost like...have you ever been in a situation where someone in your life accidentally made you cry because they didn't realize you were at the end of your rope emotionally and some tiny little thing they didn't think was even a big deal sets you off and sends you sobbing? it kind of feels like perhaps that was red bull/christian/whoever with daniel. they figured he's a trooper, he'll let it wash off his back like he always does, he can handle it, not realize that he very much COULD NOT handle it because all these different factors were boiling up into the perfect shitstorm to make him absolutely lose his mind.

and if this is the case—it really was just a bunch of misunderstandings and miscalculations compounding and multiplying on each other—i've said it once, i'll say it a million times, i DO think there's a way back and way for things to continue on as they were meant to before all this shit happened. it's just a matter of apologies and reassurances and making things right, and hopefully everyone can set aside their pride enough for that to happen.

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello lovely fandom and happy Wednesday. We are cruising along with 6x09. Can't believe we're already on the second to last ep. Not a ton of Chenford or Tim in this one but what we do get is GOOOD. It's an all around good episode though. Let us begin.

6x09 The Squeeze

Recap of 6x06-6x08 got me all in my feels before this one even starts. Poor Tim killing me right off that bat. Always be floored by Eric and his ability to convey so much with a look. How it just makes me wanna hug his hurt away. No wonder Lucy always pulls him in for hugs. How could she not? I’m sure he hasn’t even begun to process how he feels. It’s a lot what just happened to him. It all unfolded in the blink of an eye.

Someone who he used to work closely with killing himself in front of him. Doing so because he’s a dirty cop. Not only that but taking all his secrets with him. Only thing Tim got out of it was Dr. London being dirty too. Grey shows up to the scene and startles Tim out of his thoughts. He debriefs Wade letting him know Mad Dog confessed to being dirty. That he believes Blair to be apart of it as well. Now we all know he didn’t mention her by name.

BUT it was pretty damn implied. With the awkward interactions in the hospital and the rooftop scene. Wade asks if he used her name specifically? Tim tells him no….But it was clear she was who M.D. was speaking of. Grey reminding him to be careful of accusing without any evidence. As amazing as his cop gut is that’s not evidence unfortunately. Loving the hat on Wade btw. Very fitting.

It’s not too long before the accusatory Detective Pearson shows up. Not loving him from the jump. Couldn't stand him for couple reasons. One because douche bag just comes off him in waves. Two the way he comes at Tim makes me wanna knock him on his ass. This guy coming in way too hot for my liking. Far too eager to pin this on Tim.

Makes my protective Sicilian side emerge and she’s not happy. I do love Grey being quick to Tim’s defense. No one better to have his back in this moment. Lucy would be great of course. But Wade is the superior in this moment so his 'back off ' holds more water. Gotta love this man. Always protects his people.

Wade can tell Pearson wants to have a slam dunk case against Tim. It’ll further his career to get such a high-ranking officer tangled in a dirty mess. It's why Grey tells him as such. Ugh. What a schmuck. Kudos to the actor though. I instantly dislike him so well done sir LOL The way Tim watches the body get wheeled away breaks my heart. Damnit Eric you’re too good at your job. Expressing so much in that look I just want to hug him. But that’s Lucy’s job later…

We join Celina officially moving in. This will be an interesting dynamic for s7. Especially after they get back together. I’ll be intrigued how that is all handled... But I’m getting way too ahead of myself. It's hard not to when we don’t know anything. It’s easy to daydream and speculate about the unknown. Anyways John is there and sadly not as a friend but to check in on Celina. She says he’s just making sure she’s not late for her shift.

Nolan commenting would reflect poorly on him and his performance review is coming up. Not selfish at all John….His review should be ‘Needs work.’ But we all know how I feel about him as a teacher. He asks Lucy how she is? I don’t think he expects the epic rant he receives. I mean she has healed some but not nearly enough. Her words sounding like she’s trying to convince herself. Makes me sad. Doing her best to flip all this upheaval into a good thing.

Our girl feels really lost in her life right now. All the turmoil that I don’t know she’s really dealt with. I think part of her having Celina move in is she doesn’t have to deal with it as much. To not have to be alone and sit in her feelings. Because I am the the same way. If left alone too long with my thoughts they eat at me. This scene just being more proof she hasn’t dealt with much of it at all IMO. I know the prevailing theory of the season for Lucy was she was alone. Isolated. I mentioned this in my mini too.

I think a lot of the isolating is self inflicted. Her and Tim are very alike in how they handle emotional distress. At an arms length and solo. Other than Jackson, Tim is the only one she’s really allowed close to her. Tamara yes but that's always been more maternal and not like what she has with Tim. And even him she doesn’t tell everything to and vice versa. It’s very in character for her to do this. I know people thinks because she’s bubbly, optimistic and outgoing this isn’t the case. But it is. Just like how people who are depressed don’t come off that way. When there a signs of it despite their ‘happy or sunny’ demeanor.

She was isolating herself before the breakup even occurred. Rewatching this season she was doing so from the very jump of s6. Their fight in 6x01 being proof of that isolation. She felt herself overloading and shoved him away with her accusation. That was just the start. 6x04 and her rash decisions with Jeff Budny is a huge one as well. She didn’t include the one person she should’ve in that ep. It's how we ended up in that hospital room with her. I’ve said this many times before. But her and Tim are quite alike in how they handle their emotions.

Tim’s is showcased more especially this season. It's easier to detect. If you're really looking you can see her's. Lucy’s were screaming through out this entire season as well. She is a control freak just like Tim in the way she shuts people out. Even her person couldn’t get in and vice versa. They have the same fatal flaw. It’s why their lack of communication became their downfall. Our girl has as much growing to do as Tim does. I’m hoping all this is a setup for s7 for her. To me her explosion here is an example of her not dealing fully with what happened still. Shall see how s7 is handled for her. I'm hopeful.

Their convo is interrupted by Angela calling Lucy. First off I love her looking out for Lucy. Just like she does with Tim. There was a great parallel set for this and 2x12. Angela providing comfort to them both when the other is in distress. Our on-screen cheerleader for them both and I love it sfm. Even knowing what a weird place they’re in, she knew Lucy would wanna know from her than anyone else. We love you Angela Lopez. You’re a real one.

She also knows Lucy well to tell her right off the bat he’s ok. You know her heart stopped when she began that sentence. We watch Lucy instantly go into wifey mode. Both in her body language and tone of voice as Angela explains. How she turns her back to the others when it’s about her person. Needing a moment to herself as she absorbs this information.

Melissa crushing it in this scene with everything she does. From closing her eyes taking in the severity of this situation. To the concerned wifey tone she switched to quickly. We all know she has a million and one thoughts rushing through her brain right now. Mainly was he ok? Does he need her? The worry for him settling into her soul and growing rapidly by time the call ends. Once Angela hangs up she finally turns around and updates them. Concern flooding her tone.

The wifey vibes continue when John gets a call shortly after. Tim has called him to be his union rep. (Only reason he would ever call Nolan in a personal matter...) We watch as anxiety all but pours out of Lucy. Worried wifey mode has activated and it’s not going away. Despite everything they’ve been through. Everything he’s done. Her number one instinct is worry and concern for him. It's deeply rooted. It's who she is.

She loves him so much still. That is written all over this scene and her reaction. That instinct to be there for him coursing through her like a powerful current. I love her stopping Nolan before he goes. The worry seeping out of her tone. Asking how he sounded? Nolan just replying ‘Tight.’ Which is apropos for Tim in situations such as this tbh. The reason she asked this was that she could gather everything she needed to know about his state of mind from that information alone.

When she hears Nolan’s reply her worry increases tenfold. Melissa is killing me in the best way in this scene. Props to her and Eric once again for this season. I can't praise them enough honestly. It hurt so much but hot damn if they weren’t giving their A game and more every single episode. Holy hell. Not that they don’t always. Just with such limited episodes they did really good with the material. Writing was superb for them. They rose to the occasion and then some.

Tim is so anxious waiting for Nolan it’s making me anxious. He is wound so damn tight right now. Not that I blame him but we can feel the anxiety just seeping out of him. The tapping of his feet, hands, and whole body is tense before Nolan arrives. He pops right up the minute John enters the room. He doesn’t look at all prepared for what Tim is about to thrown down at him.

Nolan tries to ask him questions but Tim doesn’t have time for it. Immediately let's him know what’s going on. That they’re going to want to hang this on someone. Now that Mad Dog is dead their scape goat is gone. All that is left is Tim. He’s STRESSED they’re going to hang this around his neck. That he needs Nolan to take over the investigation. I said this in my mini and I'll say it now.

My first thought was I don’t trust Nolan with this….That I wouldn’t have chosen him to spearhead this whole thing. But Tim doesn’t have a ton of options atm. So he’s gotta go with what he’s got. And that happens to be John Nolan right now. He asks Tim who to investigate? Tim tells him to look into Blair London the rookie police department shrink.

That he’s been seeing her and so has Aaron. That he thinks she had leverage on M.D. and that’s why he jumped. I wanna pause here and say how proud I am of Tim in this moment. Look at him reaching out for help this time. Not trying to quarterback this alone. Handling this completely differently than how he handled Ray. Not isolating himself and trying to figure this out solo. He’s going through the proper channels this time. Not wanting to do a OP and segregate himself from everyone.

To say it sucks Dr. London is dirty is an understatement. Because my greatest fear would be what she does in this episode. BUT I am forever grateful to her in the same vein. Because despite her being dirty she truly helped Tim in short time he had her. Look at the growth in this moment right now. I’ve said this many times already but I truly hope we continue his therapy journey. The results are astounding and I need more of this growth. It’s just like Chenford ship crack to me. Tim growth is my other drug of choice haha Give it to me writers LOL

We see Pearson is under Dr. London thumb. (Monica’s really) It leads up to this next scene that makes my blood boil. I hated watching this scene the first time and I didn’t love it any better second time around. It makes me sick to my stomach to watch unfold. How Pearson comes after Tim like a dog with a bone. The way he uses Dr. London to solidly his reasoning makes me all kinds of angry. I'm seeing red.

I HATE them using his sessions and twisting them for their own gain. It was like I said earlier this was my biggest fear of her being dirty. This right here. Gotta commend Danielle Campbell though. She does a really good job in this scene. Even though this was her idea you can see the conflict raging in her. Because she is the one who convinced Tim to go to therapy. For pure reasons actually. To help him out. Which she did. We know that’s why she’s under Monica thumb.

She used her need to help people against her. That she is only doing this because she is being coerced. Doesn’t excuse a damn thing, but explains her hesitation and almost tortured look in this scene. Especially when Pearson comes at Grey. Accusing him of favoritism. Saying he cares more about that than this city. You can see the restraint on Wade's face not to knock this punk out. How very dare you come at him and Tim like this. Makes me wanna rage so much.

This scene right here is why love Angela Lopez so much. That fiery passion she has for those she loves. How she is unwaveringly loyal to those she holds dear. Tim being that person in this moment. Not gonna lie that’s why I love this moment so much. Calling her husband. Love her of her life to chew him out to defend her brother. Her first instinct just like Lucy is to protect him.

To make sure if he’s charging Tim that she better know first. Hot damn Angela. Tell us how you really feel. haha This man is so lucky to have this fire ball in his corner phew lord. Telling Wes she stands by Tim a thousand percent. That he’s family. Ugh my heart. Gonna make me cry. I love their friendship so much. Give me more of them in s7. Their dynamic is fantastic and I need far more of it in my life.

We arrive at the best part of the episode. After nearly fifteen minutes filled with tension…We need this hug as much as these two do. My god. I adore her being so attuned to him. Lucy sees him and knows she needs to go to him. She can see how tense he looks. The clench in his jaw very evident. Her look damn near mirroring the worried look she had in 5x19. That same longing look to reach out to him surging through her. Worried Lucy is a fav of mine and we got to have that a lot in this episode.

This time she doesn't stop herself and we all love her for it. She worries about him, regardless of the state of their relationship. It’s what drives her to go after him before his elevator closes. That magnetic pull she can’t explain nor describe. All Lucy knows is she needs to be near him and comfort him. That even from afar she can tell he needs her. As I said earlier Lucy is so attuned to Tim and what he needs. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.

To say Tim is shocked when she keeps the elevator from closing is an understatement. Not only that but stopping it so they aren’t interrupted. Wanting to ensure they have a moment alone. Even when she says to be clear she’s still mad. That this doesn’t change anything. He’s still clueless as to what is going on here. You can see it all over his face above. He has zero idea why she is in here right now.

Because in his mind there is no way she’s thinking about him. Let alone wanting to be there for him in this moment. Which breaks my heart. The last thing he ever expected was for her to care for him. Or about him in any way shape or form. Also the 4x09 vibes coming off this hug had me losing my friggin mind. This hug is everything. It showcases their bond, the intimacy that still exists between them, the vulnerability has me reeling and how they are each other’s safe place still. *happy sigh*

The way she pulls him in reminiscent of the 4x09 hug. Tim standing there not expecting this moment of comfort and getting it. It’s the way she draws him into to hide in her arms. Just like she did in ‘Breakdown.’ I’m fine….Only difference in this hug from that one is the way he just melts into her arms. The face smoosh into her shoulder. Once again mirroring that infamous hug. We watch all that anxiety and stress just drain out of him. The tension he was carrying into the elevator leaving his body once he's in his happy place. Closing his eyes and surrendering to the comfort she brings him.

He immediately wraps his entire body around her. Melding into her. Easily falling into this hug and her arms. Like two puzzle pieces that are meant to be together. Fitting back together so effortlessly after time apart. Encasing her back in his hands and snuggling in for good measure. Clinging to her like she is his emotional life raft. Because. Well she is. Holding her as close as he physically can. Cherishing this moment. Because I’m sure he never thought he would experience this again. Holding her in his arms like this. Feel her comfort and love.

These two make me insane in the best way. Also let me once again point out Tim's growth. He didn’t even try to fight her like he’s done in the past. He sees this for the gift that it is and absorbs this moment. Savoring it really. The peace you can see on his face floors me. Eric at it again. You can tell this is first time in long time he’s felt whole. This hug is beautiful on some many levels. You can feel the raw emotion coming out of them both.

The concern that’s been building up in Lucy since this morning coming out in waves. She is tucked in TIGHT to him. Clinging to him as much as he is clinging to her. I'm not ok. You can hear the immense worry in her voice as she asks him if he’s ok? Despite everything she felt the draw to be there for him. The way she looks like she can finally breathe as she asks him that question is EVERYTHING.

We get some good hands hands hands in this hug. I can’t stop staring at her thumbs in that gif either. The soothing way she is running her thumbs up and down on his back and arm. Methodical in her soothing of him. Gah I cannot you guys. Her remarkable empathy shines through in this moment. This was a balm my soul needed so much. That all of us needed. We all know how much our boy longed for this.

Can't get over her face pressed so tightly into his neck. Doing this, as she asks him what she’s been dying to since she received that phone call. Like she couldn’t breathe until she knew the answer to this question. Look at the concern on her face when she does. I’m reeling and sobbing. Lucy looks on the verge of tears herself. Their hearts are just starting to mend in this glorious hug. You can feel it. Ours too.

No one does hugs like our ship does. They’re always top tier goodness. Holy hell. They’re just breathing each other in. Calming one another down. The anxiety that was raging in both of them cooling down to a simmer in this embrace. He has melted into her like butter at this point. Reveling in the comfort and empathy she's providing him. The way he says ‘I am now.’ Reminiscent of 5x21 and their phone call in the alley. How he wasn’t ok till he heard her voice.

Song remains the same in this moment. He wasn’t ok until now. Until she had her arms wrapped around him for this hug. Didn’t know he was holding his breath till she released it for him. It’s how he sways with her and sinks even further into her arms. Smooshing his face even farther into her shoulder. It’s so sincere his reply back that I am just a puddle of emotion. He’s so vulnerable in this moment with her.

Letting her know he wasn't ok until she was there. Imma scream at how much I love this growth in him. If there was any more doubt in Lucy’s mind of his feelings for her, this hug and his reaction to it should clear that right up. That is a man who is still so in love with her. Letting her know he wasn’t alright until she came and found him. I’m not crying you are…. Find you a person who knows what you need when you need it. Even when you’re not in the best place. That’s Lucy Chen for this man. Reigniting him falling in love with her all over again in this moment.

Lucy picking up on this growth reflects in her reaction back. Gah it’s the way she tightens her arms around him after she hears this. Closes her eyes and tries to bring him even closer. Trying to wrap him up in her arms even tighter. Absorb any stress he is carrying right now. The sheer relief written all her face. The way she shuts her eyes knowing he’s ok because she is there. *sobs*

Just melting into this man as she holds him as close as she can. Clinging to him as much as he is to her. I’m not ok in the best way. I remember thinking this hug would feed my soul into the hiatus. Just gonna scream into a pillow how much I love this moment. Their chemistry is insane and with a hug? Even more so my god. We are blessed to have a ship where our hugs are this amazing.

I love this faraway shot of their hug. They are in-sync as they part. How do they do that? We can see how deeply entangled they are. Nary an inch between them. You can see how they were just clinging onto each other for dear life. Look at Tim’s arms/hands. How gentle and intimate his are placed.

Having her as close as he can. It’s the hand gently wrapped around her lower back that has me losing it. It’s just so intimate I can’t get over it. Lucy is retuning the favor in kind. She too is just as intertwined as he is in this moment. Arms clinging to him and her face buried in his neck. Their chemistry on massive display here.

You’d think the hug alone would be enough to make me squee to death. Lucy follows it up with fixing his collar. I’m dead. The most wifey move of all moves. Reminded me of the lint picking from 5x12. Such an intimate coupley thing to do. I’m losing my damn mind over it. Wife energy coming off her in waves. Just seemed so automatic and natural when they part.

Also she touches her arm before reopening the door. She can’t keep her hands off him and I’m here for it. Tim looks like he’s going to cry in that elevator. I also love Tim putting his hands in his pockets right after. Because if he doesn’t he’ll never let her go. They’ll never get off this elevator. He could've stayed in that hug all day.

Basked in the comfort she had to give him. So he puts his hands immediately in his pockets after they part. Ugh my heart. They miss each other so much and this hug is screaming that. Also screaming how they didn’t miss a beat. How natural and wonderful it was. *happy sigh* This hug giving me true hope for the first time.

They re-open elevator to find Angela and Harper waiting for them. They look like they’ve been caught. Like they didn’t just have this deeply emotional embrace. The looks they share before Lucy leaves are LOADED. The expression on Angela’s face... She knows they interrupted something. I adore her saying she can get him extradited if he needs it. Love this woman so much. We know just like Lucy she is willing to do anything for this man.

Makes my heart so happy. All these women in his life want is to support and protect him. You can tell Angela wants to be tagged in so badly. Tim telling her won’t be necessary. He didn’t do anything wrong. That she had his back last time. He has different forces at play this time. Adore her saying 'Different isn’t me.’ Not it’s not ha Sadly last of Tim for this ep. *pouts*

Another telling scene for Lucy. Really really need s7 to clear these things up for her. Because despite being wonderfully empathetic human to Tim. She is still lost in life and not sure who she is. I NEED UC and some other things clarified for her next season. I really do. Just because she’s amazing at UC (and she is) doesn’t mean it’s her path. I do love this scene because it’s just Lucy being Lucy.

Having EIGHT covers ready to go. Our little nerd in action here. I adore it so much. It’s the most Lucy Chen thing she could do. Telling them it takes twelve off duty hours to grow. I love her so much. It’s not a mystery why Tim is so damn gone for her. Their faces as she explains cracks me up. Tim wouldn’t be shocked in the least. Hell I’m sure he was there while she was growing some of them.

The detective line is just another stab at our hearts though. Hoping for clarification and goodness for her career in s7. Manifesting it. As much as I need their reconciliation.(and I need it bad) I need her path resolved just as much tbh. For her to find her purpose and grow. Because once her and Tim do this. That reconciliation is gonna be even sweeter because of it.

I will say I was impressed with Nolan. Enjoy this it won’t last ha He handled investigating Blair really well. Rattling the cages of the potential dirty cops she was seeing just by showing up to her office. I forgot seasons 1-2 Nolan was a good cop. He just got really annoying after s3. LOL Also roping Smitty in was hilarious. He was already there for the food so might as well use him.

It’s the first time in what feels like a long time I enjoyed John. He enlists Nell too to help him with data from dispatch. Maybe it’s Bailey that makes him extra irritating to me. Lmao Sorry Jenna....lol Anyways quite the miracle Nolan pulled off in this ep getting me to like him. Not only that but commend him on the job he’s doing. Helping out Tim in a major way and I can’t deny that.

Nolan’s plan works out like gang busters. He went to her office to rattle a dirty cop into revealing himself. Pearson does it perfectly. Losing his mind about finding out they were in Mad Dog's apt. Like I said earlier I commend John on his work in this. Had Tim’s back and then some with his investigation. If they wrote him like this more wouldn’t dog on him so much lol

The other part that is so great is Grey. He is a papa bear ready to devour anyone messing with his work kids. This part was so cathartic to watch after earlier. Watching him dismantle Pearson like the schmuck he is. Was sick of him stomping around the station. Acting like he can just be top dog when he's really on a leash.

Rubbed me the wrong way being disrespectful to Tim and threatening Wade. Watching him attack Nolan/Celina is Grey's final straw. Puts that turd in his place. We watch him visibly shrink as Grey tears him a new asshole LOL All but telling him to stay in his own lane. Get em’ Wade! Nolan putting together the connection of Pearson and Blair due to this. Was fun to watch them piece this together.

Scenes like this give me agita like no other. My heart was beating in my chest for her. Lucy did a really good job despite the toy. Unfortunately it’s one of those loud musical ones. That not only gives away her position. But possibly her cover in the process. He find it’s on the floor. Looking menacing af. This man gives me the creeps on so many levels. I hated this mission for her on so many levels.

Unfortunately they’ll need her going back into the house. Now that Monica is in play it’s crucial she is there. Especially with Batista investigating who tried to kill her. Lucy is worried they’re going to blow her cover faster with her involved…But it’s a risk they have to take. If Tim knew about this he would be feral. Oh Feral Tim how I miss you. I need more 2x11 feral Tim in my life. That's a wishlist for s7 I suppose.

The ep ends with Nolan making a deal I’m not sure he can make lol But he was good in this episode so I’ll give him a pass. You can see how panicked she is. I am impressed John got her on this bench I will say. Getting her to almost spill her guts to him. Saying she didn’t think anyone would get hurt. That's what they all say....

I will say I missed Tim a lot in this ep after he was gone. That's my man. But it was a good episode. Reminded me of what a good ensemble cast we have as a whole. That's all she wrote for this one.

As always thank you to everyone for reading, liking, commenting and reblogging these means more than you’ll ever know. Shall see you all in the finale with 6x10 :)

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

We get more insight in how Dr. London is being leveraged. Of course it’s a Monica connection because she is the absolute worst….

It’s great to see Pearson get nailed to the wall at the end of the ep. Prick.

[lonewolfel]

Lightning that makes her Kingdom Fall - Chapter 1 Aftermath

Summary: Zeus’s attack had consequences that no god had expected. Athena has been rendered human and is in critical condition. Odysseus is still trying to make it home. Telemachus just wants to get rid of the suitors and to know what happened to his friend.

Notes: I forgot to post this earlier my bad. It is here on AO3. Spoilers for God Games.

The gods watched in horror. Athena had always been Zeus’s favorite child. Intelligent, cold, strong, arrogant, prideful Athena now laid there in a puddle of her own ichor. Her last words before she lost consciousness was begging their father to free a mortal.

Zeus left the arena. He seemed to be the only one who could move after witnessing this horror. Apollo was the next to move.

Apollo the god of healing was the best one to be in action. He moved over to Athena slowly as if she was playing dead to strike her prey. Athena though didn’t move. He knelt beside her to treat her injuries. Zeus had never ordered the gods to do nothing to help Athena, so Apollo should be fine treating her...right?

Hera and Hephaestus both left. They didn’t have a particularly strong relationship with the goddess of wisdom but then no god really did besides Zeus.

Aphrodite rushed forward. Tears started to stream down her beautiful cheeks. Ares seemed to linger behind his lover. This was a shock. Aphrodite and Athena never got along how could they when Athena scorned the very thing Aphrodite represented? Ares was always Athena’s rival, both were of war, and yet Athena was praised while Ares was spat upon.

Apollo saw quick and sporadic breaths from his half-sister's chest.

“She’s alive.” The words didn’t come out the way he wanted. They showed just how much Apollo had been shaken by what happened.

“She had just learned,” Aphrodite sobbed. Apollo looked at her in confusion but said nothing. Aphrodite was a difficult god for him to understand. She acted irrationally and was far too focused on emotions. It was best to let Ares deal with her.

Apollo instead turned his intentions to healing Athena. Their father’s abilities weren’t ones that Apollo could heal, no, they would take eons for her to heal fully. Most of the damage was focused on the head and arms. Apollo wasn’t sure what the lingering effects of the lightning on Athena’s mind and that idea was concerning considering her role as the goddess of wisdom, but Apollo pushed the fears out of his mind to focus on the healing he could do.

He removed the lightning still coursing through her body. Stopping it from hurting her further and undoing Apollo’s hard work.

“Tell me that isn’t what I think it is,” Ares’s voice broke through Apollo’s thoughts.

Apollo looked up at the war god. In his arms was a slightly calmer Aphrodite who had her face buried in the god’s chest. Ares himself was gesturing towards Athena’s face with a mixture of barely contained rage and horror.

Apollo frowned and looked over at where Ares was gesturing. He turned Athena onto her back and moved her brown hair away from her face. Then Apollo saw what Ares was talking about.

There were red streaks running down her cheeks like tears. These red streaks were different, Apollo wiped one away and felt it. It felt like mortal blood. A sinking feeling entered his gut as he tried to tell himself that it came from one of the mortals Athena cared so much about, but then it was replaced with the exact same liquid coming from her eyes.

“Apollo?”

Frantically Apollo touched her head and using his abilities tried to find her divinity. He pushed aside the memory of her divine light faltering and fading while she begged for the mortal. Yet as he searched for her dormant divinity, he found nothing. There wasn’t even a trace of it left. Apollo tried to tell himself that it would come back when she was healed but deep down, he knew otherwise.

“She’s mortal,” Apollo breathed.

Aphrodite sobbed so hard that she likely alerted Hades to the happenings on Olympus. Apollo couldn’t bring himself to care about the goddess's outburst. He was too shocked by the implication. Zeus had removed his own daughter’s divinity, rendering her mortal.

Apollo could have laughed at the twisted justice of it. Athena had defied Zeus to free a mortal and now she had become one. Apollo felt sick.

“How?” Ares snarled.

Apollo could only shrug his shoulders. He looked down at Athena and it registered that she was going to die. Mortals were delicate they couldn’t handle Zeus’s lightning bolts. Even if she did survive how long? Would she ever recover? Would she ever be able to fight, to have a complex thought again, or would she simply become a vegetable waiting to die? And die she would. If not now, then in some mortal years when her mortal body finally fails.

“If he can do this to his favorite then...” Ares didn’t need to finish his thought. They were all likely thinking it. What would Zeus do to them? If Zeus didn’t hold back for Athena, then why would he for any of his other children or even the gods that aren’t his children? It was a chilling thought that made Apollo uneasy.

Apollo pushed down the thought. It didn’t do any good to dwell on them. Right now, Apollo had to focus on healing Athena.

“Ares, help me move her. Aphrodite, go grab Asclepius and have him meet us on Delphi.”

Aphrodite rushed off to do just that. Ares nodded and moved over to Athena’s feet.

[musicjegtanc]

Z tattoo

[ghastlyaffairs]

for something as trivial and simple those feelings sure are hard to get rid of

also made a gif a version for fun + alt version with no tears under the cut

the gif is in very low resolution...this is a feature (i could make it bigger but that would require saving each frame individually and than glueing it all together. also i feel like low resolution suits it better. aesthetically and fits the mood)

[graff-aganda]

something something psych star trek au

[yearningaces]

I gotta say, no one prepared you for when you grow up religious and turn out queer.

There's so many people I've talked to who left the church and it correlates with them being queer and I will never say they're wrong

But there's a different kind of grief of still being religious, and wanting to stay in a church, and going to one your family just found and praised and you go and hope for the best and instantly know you'll never be welcomed here if you were yourself.

And then you have to sit and bite your tongue and listen when others like you say they don't go and they've got religious trauma and all you can say is 'I'm so sorry. It's not supposed to be like this, my God isn't like these people but they hurt you and I'm so sorry I don't know why they act this way'

How do you go about that?