#i think their father daughter relationship

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Prologue: Two Rings

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: To celebrate taking a step forward in your relationship and moving in together, Joel charters a yacht for the night. He couldn't possibly have an ulterior motive, right?

Chapter Warnings: language, reader has a strained relationship with her parents, smut (18+ MDNI), fluff, unprotected piv sex, oral sex f! and m!receiving, multiple orgasms, reader has at least shoulder length hair, food and alcohol consumption

WC: 7.7K

Series Masterlist

"Reschedule it for next week. I made a promise."

Seven days never flew by so fast.

Joel had been pacing around his house like a caged animal all morning. It was Saturday, but he still took a few work calls just as a distraction. It didn't help much. He found his hand drifting to his pocket every two minutes where a flawless diamond ring in an expensive box was kept.

A couple months prior he had woke up early with you curled up against his side. There wasn't anything particularly exceptional about that day. It was a workday, he remembered that much. It was raining, which was unusual for Los Angeles. But on that day he woke up and looked at you sleeping so peacefully in his bed and it hit him out of nowhere: he wanted to wake up like that for the rest of his life. He had never felt more certain about anything.

He quickly ran into a problem, however. You technically already had an engagement ring. One that was used as a prop, although a very fucking real and very fucking expensive prop, back when you first met and accompanied him to Fiji. He had hired you through a dating agency that specialized in catering to higher end clients like himself. His needs were slightly unusual, however. He had wanted you to pose as his fiancée with the stipulation you weren't to breathe a word about your fake arrangement to anybody in order to win over a real estate tycoon and bid for the last parcel of land on the island.

Behind closed doors, you had your separate rooms.

It was temporary. It was only supposed to be one month and he would never see you again.

It made him laugh now to think about it. He didn't stand a chance. You had him hooked from the moment you stepped into his office with your quick wit and no-bullshit attitude. It took him a while to accept it, but once he did, he never looked back.

When you returned from the island, Joel insisted you keep the ring, which you'd worn on your right hand ever since. He went back and forth over it for weeks. Should he get you a new ring, or should he use the old one and propose to you properly?

He was going to let you decide. Either way, they were both yours, which he anticipated fielding an argument over as you still struggled to adjust to your new, lavish lifestyle with him.

As he looked out the window at the moving truck and two cars puttering up the long driveway, he wondered if he should have spaced things out a little for your benefit. Asking you to marry him on the same day you were moving into his home might be a lot for you to handle all at once. But then he saw you step out of your beat up car, one he planned to replace as soon as possible, and smiled at the excitement written on your face.

He was about to step away and go downstairs to greet you when he saw your mother and father step out of the second car. He froze for a moment, an unexpected jolt of nerves rocking through his chest. He hadn't met your parents before and when you told them you would be moving in together, they suddenly decided to drop everything and travel all the way from Tennessee to help you pack your things.

You thought it was a nice gesture given your delicate relationship with them, but he knew better. They were worried about you and they wanted to make sure he wasn't some psycho coming along to take advantage of their only daughter.

He didn't blame them one bit and he suspected he would behave similarly when Sarah met somebody one day. But he knew how he came off to people. He had a tendency to be gruff and a little cold. It was the by-product of a few horribly failed relationships, as well as years and years of cutthroat business deals. Anyone would have to be hardened to get to where he was in his career.

Still, he intended on making a good impression. These were your parents and, hopefully, his future in-laws. He wouldn't let anything screw this up.

"Honey?"

"In here, Mom!" you called from Joel's master bathroom. Your master bathroom now.

Your mother appeared in the doorway, eyes bugging out of her head when she took in the sizable room. A crystal clear glass shower that could easily fit two people, something you and Joel had already proven more than once, sat in one corner with a built in granite bench and custom tile walls imported from Italy. In the opposite corner was a massive claw foot tub that sat in front of a huge window overlooking the breathtaking ocean view from Joel's backyard. Currently, you sat on the floor in front of the double sinks built into the white marble countertop going through your boxes of toiletries.

"My goodness," your mom breathed with a hand pressed gently against her chest. "Why on earth would he have a tub right in front of a window? Anybody could see you bathing!"

"It's one sided," you giggled. "You can see out but no one can see in."

Her face relaxed and she took a step into the room, making a surprised little noise when she felt the warmth emanating from the tile floor.

"It's heated," you explained before she could ask. She nodded slowly and continued to look around in awe.

"I see."

You could hear her tone, a tone you had grown too familiar with your whole life. She wasn't pleased.

"What's wrong?" you asked, setting down your bags of makeup so you could give her your full attention. She bit her lip nervously before quickly shutting the bathroom door and joining you on the ground.

"Don't you think all this is a little... much?"

You frowned. "Much?"

"This lifestyle is what I mean. This isn't you, honey," your mom said with a soothing squeeze of your arm.

"No, but I'm getting used to it," you said defensively. "This is what Joel is used to and I love him. It doesn't bother me so much, it's just an adjustment."

"He's got a whole staff to tend to this place," she continued with a low voice. "I saw a gardener and a pool boy. Don't tell me he has a maid, too."

"Well, yeah, he does-"

Your mother's jaw dropped with a disbelieving snort.

"He can't pick up after himself?"

"He doesn't have to! He's paying someone to do it for him! Besides, he's very busy. He works long hours every day to afford all this. Why should he-"

"It humbles a person to be able to cook and clean for themselves," your mother said firmly. "It builds character."

"Mom," you whined, "it's different out here and you know it. This isn't Tennessee. Most homes have some hired help, it's just how it is."

"Well, I was just envisioning a different life for my only child, don't come for my head about it," she huffed while straightening her skirt.

"No one's coming for your head, I'm just trying to explain how people live out here. It's different but I really like it. And most of all, I'm happy. I love Joel, Mom, more than anything. And he loves me, too. He treats me well, he cares for me... he's a good man," you finished softly. Your parents never liked the idea of you moving to the west coast with your best friend, Celine, for college. It unknowingly deepened the rift between you and them that you had been trying to mend for years.

"Well, I suppose he does seem rather charming. He has nice manners, at least," she sighed. You thought back to the lunch the four of you had shared not an hour earlier, finding it surprising that your mother found something nice to say about Joel at all given the uncomfortable atmosphere. To his credit, Joel really tried. He asked your parents about their jobs and their church. He even shared some stories about himself, trying to find some common ground, but your parents hardly offered anything in return and it irked you.

"Then why were you and Dad so stand-offish during lunch?" you asked pointedly.

"We were not-"

"Yes, you were," you argued back before she could lie. "I was sitting right there. Why don't you like Joel, Mom?"

She sighed and looked around the ornate bathroom again before floating her hands in the air.

"We just aren't used to all this, sweetie. It's a lot for us. Your father feels uncomfortable around all of this... grandeur."

"Well, do you think you can try a little harder? For me?" you asked, sounding exasperated. "All of this stuff shouldn't matter as long as I'm happy, right?"

After a beat, she slowly nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'll talk to your father."

"Thank you," you breathed with a small smile. "Now, can you please help me with the last of these boxes?"

She grinned and pulled the last one over to open it up. "Of course," she said, then made a face at the way everything inside was tossed about. "You're lucky none of these things are broken. You pack like a maniac, honey."

You laughed and pushed yourself onto your knees to get a better look inside the box.

"Well, guess it's a good thing you and Dad helped out with the important stuff."

"That reminds me, the boxes for your office are still in the foyer. Dad packed all of that for you," she said while taking out a few bottles of shampoo. "You know him, properly organizing everything. He's retired but he's still labeling and sorting everything in the house like he's working a case." Your father, a recently retired police detective, always had an attention to detail. "He said your important looking work documents were all in one box he marked fragile."

"Oh, great, thank you. I think Joel's still having one of the bedrooms converted into an office space for me so I'll have to ask him where to store it for now," you said, pausing when your mother gave you a look.

"One of the bedrooms?" she repeated. "How many does he need?"

"Mom! You said you'd try!"

"You're right, you're right, I'm sorry," she said with a light laugh. Then she stood with an armful of items. "Where should I put all this?"

"That door right there is a walk-in linen closet."

You noticed her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the spacious linen closet, but you let it go. Your relationship with them was still a little rocky and you didn't want to press the matter. She said she and your father would try to get used to Joel's lifestyle, so you had to give her time to follow through on her promise.

Your parents left for the airport in the late afternoon. After your tense conversation with your mother, you were ashamed to admit you were a little relieved that their visit had come to an end. But when you saw both your mom and dad give Joel a hug before they left, you softened up a bit, even if their hugs were a little stiff. They promised they would try and that was all you could ask for, even though Joel didn't deserve to be treated unfairly in the slightest. As their car disappeared down the winding driveway, you had visions of all the ways you could make it up to him, but then he surprised you with some unexpected plans.

"You chartered a yacht?" you exclaimed. "Why? To mark the occasion?"

Joel thought about it for half a second.

"Yeah. I wanted to celebrate," he said smoothly while sliding his hands around your waist. "We got it overnight so pack a small bag."

You squealed with delight and grabbed his face to pull him down for a quick kiss. When you turned to hurry back inside, he swatted you lightly on the ass, making you yelp and then giggle your way up the stairs towards your shared bedroom.

The marina was absolutely beautiful at sunset. The last golden rays from the sun reflected off the water as you approached, spreading flashes of deep purples, pinks and greens across the horizon. Joel had insisted on driving you both himself, something that surprised you but you shrugged off, assuming he wanted to allow his driver, Richie, to enjoy the weekend.

"We have this entire yacht?" you asked, mouth agape as you approached a huge two story charter.

"Yep," he had replied, pleased with your reaction. Two crew members had met you at the car and grabbed your bags, leaving your hands free to walk carefully across the bridge to board the yacht. You smiled bashfully when the crew of eight introduced themselves, then tucked yourself into Joel's side as the captain gave you a quick tour. When he paused in the doorway of the master suite to point out all the amenities, you shot Joel a playful look and waggled your eyebrows. He stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes before kissing the top of your head and following the captain through the lounge and to the deck, where there had to have been what looked like a hundred candles lit on every available surface. The sight took your breath away, it was so stunning. Flickering candlelight reflected off the polished wood and glassware that sat atop the table, already prepped and ready for you to be served once you got out onto the open water.

"Pink roses?" you said when you spotted the centerpiece as well as the decorative adornments that were peppered throughout the deck. You leaned in to sniff them and closed your eyes.

"I know you like the pink ones the best," Joel replied as he watched you look around in wonder. Then your eyes found his again and you smiled.

"When did you become such a romantic, Joel Miller?"

His heart skipped a beat in his chest when he replied, "When I met you."

While the yacht made its way a few miles off shore, the two of you found the bar inside the lounge and shared some drinks in front of the small fireplace while soft, classical music filtered through the speakers hidden strategically throughout the room. In the left corner of the room sat a white baby grand piano, sparkling but untouched. To the right was the bar, tended by a discreet looking gentleman with greying hair.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Your leg was draped across his lap and he was drawing slow circles over your calf, but his movements paused when you asked your question.

Joel grinned and nodded, pulling his eyes away from the flames to look at you.

"Glenn's yacht?"

You smiled and leaned in closer.

"Yep," you said, lowering your voice so the bartender couldn't overhear. "Remember the last night we were there?"

Joel bit back a groan at the memory of you on top of him, practically begging him to fuck you, but he had refused. That didn't stop you from finding another way to drive him completely insane. Instead, you had gotten yourself off by riding his thigh. It was the first time the two of you had blurred that line from a business relationship to something more.

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember," he murmured. Your eyes looked heavy as you gazed up at him and it took every ounce of strength he had not to toss you over his shoulder and take you back to the master suite right then and there. Instead, he pulled you in for a deep kiss, tasting the sweetness of champagne on your tongue.

His hand drifted back to get lost in your hair when you both heard someone nearby softly clearing their throat. You pulled away and let your gaze sheepishly fall while Joel handled the crew member who had come to let you know that dinner was about to be served.

"Oops," you whispered once the they were out of sight. A low rumble of laughter bubbled up from his chest and once you stood, he tugged you against him and cupped your face.

"Don't worry. Place'll be all ours after dinner," Joel told you. He gave you a quick kiss before curving his arm around your shoulders so he could lead you out towards the deck.

"Wha - Joel! We - we can't drive this thing!"

He chuckled at the panic in your voice. "Just for the evening. They'll drop anchor and be back in the morning. I ain't gonna get us killed, baby."

"Oh," you breathed a sigh in relief. He pulled your chair out and you sat down primly, glancing down at the complicated looking appetizer that waited for you. A small smile played at your lips when you asked, "And why are they leaving overnight, Joel?"

He sat down across from you and flicked out his cloth napkin with a wink.

"You'll see."

Dinner was elaborate and rich, but you had grown used to that with Joel. You had lost count of how many courses they brought out but when a cheese plate was placed between you after the main dish, you gave him a pained look.

"Joel?"

"Hmm?" he hummed while taking a sip of red wine. Your fingers inched across the white linen tablecloth, seeking out his hand. When his own fingers linked with yours and curled around your knuckles, you smiled at him tiredly.

"This is lovely," you began, "but I'm wondering when I'll get my dessert."

"Dessert's after the limoncello," he assured you. He shifted a little nervously in his chair and adjusted his tie. His mind was elsewhere but you had no idea.

"That's not the kind of dessert I meant," you whispered. You saw the realization dawn on him and you stifled a giggle. He leaned forward, hands still intertwined, and picked up a piece of cheese. He held it out between his thumb and forefinger and as seductively as you could, slowly stretched your neck forward to wrap your lips around his fingers and the small cube, all while maintaining eye contact with Joel.

"Good?"

You nodded and swallowed. "But I know something that tastes better."

"Christ," he groaned, eyes darkening as heat began to spread under his collar. Subconsciously, his finger began to slide your ring back and forth, fiddling with it. He wanted to just ask you right then and there. Just take the thing off and put it on your other hand and say the fucking words. But he had to wait. He had a plan.

Mercifully, dessert finally arrived. Actual dessert. Tiramisu, to be exact. But you were growing restless. He could tell by the way you sighed and tugged at the straps of your dress or flicked your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck with a soft moan. You were trying to get him to break and it was working magnificently. It had him checking his watch and mentally doing the math, trying to figure out if he had enough time to fuck you before his plan was set into motion.

The crew was packing up somewhere in the depths of the yacht. The captain had just left your table after confirming with Joel whether or not he needed anything else, and the anticipation of having the boat all to yourselves was killing you. But when he stood and extended a hand, asking you to join him on the deck instead of dragging you back to the bedroom, you hesitated. He grinned and wiggled his fingers.

"C'mon. Trust me."

You did. Of course, you did. So you stood and let him take your hand, leading you out onto the deck which was alight with flameleas candles and string lights wrapped around all the railings. A small seating area sprinkled with rose petals awaited you, the sight causing your suspicions to stir.

"All this to celebrate moving in together?" you asked. Joel didn't respond. He just smiled and sat down on the plush couch, which was facing the vast, empty ocean, and patted the seat next to him. Slowly, you sat down and leaned into his side before scanning the water. The moon was full that night and blazed a bright beam of light across the sea. It was quiet and serene and had you melting into his chest as his arms wrapped around you.

"It's peaceful," you murmured. In the distance, you could hear the soft hum of a motor from the boat taking the crew back to shore. Joel glanced nervously at his watch and you frowned. Tilting your chin up a bit, you caught his eye.

"What's going on?"

"Nothin'," he said immediately in response, only furthering your suspicions. You shifted so you could get a better look at his face.

"Why are you checking the time? What's-"

"You want somethin' to drink? I can get it for you," he interrupted. Okay, now you knew something was up. His fingers were tapping rhythmically against his leg, which was bouncing so fast the deck was creaking.

"No," you said, "Joel, why are you acting-"

A loud boom muffled the rest of your sentence, which ended up being a scream, anyway. Then a flash of color appeared in the sky above your heads and you looked up in surprise. Fireworks. There were fireworks going on above you, being set off from a barge somewhere you couldn't see on the water.

"Joel," you breathed in between booms. You looked at him and he grinned. "You did this?"

He nodded and said, "Wanted to do somethin' special."

"This is too much!" But you laughed and jumped when another firework popped in the sky, undermining any scolding on your part.

Your curiosity vanished, successfully distracted by the fireworks display. Joel curled an arm around your shoulders and you sunk against him once again with your back pressed against his front. You tipped your head back to rest on his shoulder so you could watch the fireworks, completely missing the way his heart began to beat faster against your back when he reached for your hands, which were resting in your lap.

Thinking he was just holding your hand, you shot him a quick smile before refocusing your attention on the sky. Maybe it was the drinks you had with dinner, but you hadn't even realized he slid your ring off your right hand until he held it up. Your gaze dropped down to look at it pinched between his fingers and your eyebrows knit together. The huge diamond sparkled with the reflection from the fireworks, all the reds, blues, and yellows shining within every flawless carat.

"Joel?" you said quietly. So quietly that it was impossible to hear over the loud booms.

Then you saw the tremble in his hand that held your ring and your eyes widened with a slow realization: the private yacht, the fancy dinner, the fireworks... this wasn't an evening designed to celebrate moving in together. This was something else.

Joel lifted your left hand from your lap and adrenaline began to course through your whole body. Your ability to blink and breathe just... vanished. Time might have even stood still as you stared down at your hands, watching in disbelief as he carefully slid your ring onto your left finger. Then you felt his beard brush against the shell of your ear from behind.

"Looks better on this hand. What do you think?"

Tears welled up in your eyes almost immediately. You splayed your fingers out in front of you both to look at the ring on your hand, but your vision blurred and your hand shook worse than his. Then two fingers found your chin, tilting your face to the side so he could look you in the eye.

"I wanna spend my life with you," he murmured softly. Your lower lip began to tremble and your heart stuttered in your chest, but you did your best to focus on his words. "You changed everythin', sweetheart. Changed my entire life. Brought me back together with my brother, with my daughter... reminded me what it's like to enjoy life again." His own eyes grew misty when he gave you a small smile and added, "Made me believe in love."

You laughed a little and two fat tears trickled down your cheeks.

"I've never known a peace like the one I have when I'm with you," he whispered. He was talking softly but even with the fireworks still going off above your heads, you could hear every word, almost as if the entire world melted away in that moment and all that remained was just the two of you.

His eyes looked so warm as he stared at you. They were so adoring and vulnerable. It made you want to crawl into his lap, wrap your arms around him, and never let him go. But you wanted to hear the words. You were desperate to hear the question you longed to hear, so you bit harshly into your bottom lip and fought back the desire.

Finally, he dragged in a ragged breath and asked, "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" you sobbed, and it was like the floodgates opened. You flipped around and tossed one leg over his lap to straddle him, missing the way his face beamed with excitement when you grabbed his cheeks with both hands and kissed him. Your tongue slid easily between his parted lips, catching his groan between your teeth. When your thumbs brushed over his cheeks, you felt dampness there. Tears. Shortly after, your own streaked down your face, but you couldn't stop smiling.

The fireworks were probably coming to an end, you couldn't really be sure. You were too lost in your little bubble, perched on Joel's lap with his hands fiercely gripping your waist. You couldn't remember if it was you who started to grind your hips into him or if his hands had urged you to move. Regardless, within just a few short minutes, you found yourself dragging your pussy up and down his thigh while your kisses grew more and more urgent.

"C'mon, let's go inside," he panted while you sprinkled kisses down his jaw. When he tried to pull you off him, you shook your head and pushed your knees deeper into the cushion, keeping you both planted in place.

"No - here," you murmured before hiking up the skirt of your dress so it pooled loosely around your waist, freeing your legs to spread even wider. Joel groaned when his chin dropped to his chest, watching as you pulled your panties to the side with two fingers. You bit your lip and swiped your fingers through your folds while he nearly ripped his belt open with shaky hands. He had just unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, already hard and leaking, when you pressed your glistening fingers against his lips. His blood was pumping so fast, he was growing lightheaded, and when he parted his lips to taste your arousal on your fingertips, his eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped to the back of the couch in a daze.

"Dirty girl," he rasped after he licked your fingers clean. You smirked and reached down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his aching cock. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and opened his eyes so he could watch you stroke him up and down.

His hands squeezed your hips and encouraged you forward, unable to wait any longer. Fortunately, you couldn't, either. You lined him up against your entrance and removed your hand, the only sounds that filled the air now that the fireworks were over was your shared heavy breaths and the water lightly lapping at the side of the yacht.

"It's why you sent the crew away, right?" you breathed as you slowly sunk down on his cock. "So you could fuck me wherever you wanted?"

A strangled groan slipped past his lips when you began to shift ever so slightly, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him taking his breath away.

"Didn't want them to hear," he replied through clenched teeth. "Didn't think you'd - fuck - didn't think you'd be so fuckin' needy so fast."

The fact he really thought you wouldn't want to jump him as fast as possible after he proposed was laughable, and you told him so as you began to bounce quicker in his lap, gasping when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix.

Joel just chuckled breathlessly and clutched your hips harder, helping you glide up and down his shaft.

"Ain't got nothin' to do with it. You wanted me to fuck you halfway through dinner."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you moaned, arching your back when his hips began to buck up into you. You grappled frantically at his shoulders and tipped your head back with a sharp gasp, leaving you with a beautiful view of twinkling stars above you.

With your throat exposed, Joel lunged forward to suck a red mark just below your jaw. You smelled so good and your skin was so soft that it had him sitting up straighter so he could gain better access.

"God, Joel!" you cried out into the night sky. His hands grabbed at your ass, fingers digging roughly into each cheek, forcing your body up and down on his cock while he slammed into you, knocking all the oxygen from your lungs and every thought from your brain.

"Gonna make the perfect little wife, baby," he growled, teeth scraping lightly down your jaw. Wife. The word sent a thrill through you.

"Yeah?" you gasped, eyelids fluttering as you felt yourself nearing your peak. "You think so?"

"Mhm," Joel murmured into your neck. "Love you so much, love you so fuckin' much, y'make me so happy. Just wanna spend my life takin' care of you, give you everythin' you need."

He was rambling now and a lazy smile stretched across your face.

"I love you, too," you whispered before tilting your head down to capture his lips in a searing, messy kiss.

Your hips stuttered and your moans grew more high pitched each time you dropped yourself back down on his cock. And because he knew you so well, he grinned against your mouth and murmured, "You gonna come for me?"

"Yeah," you whined in between heated kisses. Your hands clawed at his face and hair and you gasped shakily every time your clit rubbed against the curls at the base of his shaft. "Yeah, yeah I'm - I'm gonna come," you breathed, too lost in your own pleasure to say much else except repeat him, so fucking close that all it took was one or two more deep thrusts and it sent you reeling into your climax.

You tightened around him with a silent scream. Your brows were furrowed and your mouth hung open against his as your orgasm rocked through your entire body. Boneless, you drooped against him, nuzzling into his neck. He pulled you in tight against his chest while fucking up into you recklessly until he let out a deep groan and his body stilled.

"Look." Joel tapped your shoulder, stirring you back to life. You forced your eyes open and followed his gaze down where you were connected. A second later you watched as a small amount of his thick, milky white release dribbled out of you, pooling at the base of his cock.

Unable to put into words how hot it was to watch yourself overflow with him, your mouth greedily found his, tongue probing past his lips with a moan.

You sat there for as long as he would allow, limp and spent while sharing wet, lazy kisses until his cock softened and he slipped out of you with a grunt. The palm of his hand was soothingly rubbing your back and you had never felt more content in your life, but when a sharp breeze drifted over the ocean and made you shiver, Joel broke the kiss and cupped your face.

"Let's go to bed."

You nodded sleepily and allowed him to lead you back into the yacht, through the abandoned lounge that still played classical music faintly through the hidden speakers, down the well lit hallway, and finally to the master suite. The bed had been turned down by one of the crew members before they left. A bottle of champagne with two glasses with a note that read congratulations! was left next to the bed, but you were too exhausted. It was a miracle you were able to wash up and change out of your clothes before slipping into the plush bedding, but you stayed awake until Joel had turned out all the lights and joined you. With a sigh, you curled up next to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder and slotting your leg between his, then finally drifted off to sleep.

The clock read a little after three in the morning when you awoke. You were in the same position you found yourself before falling asleep hours earlier: fitted snugly into Joel's side with your palm placed gently over his heart. You used the bathroom and drank some much needed water but you had trouble falling back asleep, so you perched on the bench by the window and watched the way your ring shone in the moonlight.

It took you back in time when you saw the ring on your left hand again. Memories of confusing feelings, devastating rejection, fake love stories and intense pain flickered through your mind when you thought back to the whirlwind month you spent with Joel in Fiji, masquerading as his fiancée.

But now, it was real.

Now, that lie, that story, was going to become reality.

You couldn't have been happier. After everything you had been through, all the ups and downs your relationship faced from the very beginning, you were finally going to get your much deserved happy ending.

You just wished your parents and their opinions would stop plaguing your mind.

"What're you doin'?" Joel's groggy voice called from the bed. You snapped your head up in surprise, just to find him sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing. Sorry. I couldn't sleep. Too excited," you grinned when holding up your left hand. His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness, so he reached over to flick on one small lamp next to the bed. The room was cast in a dim, yellow glow, but he saw you holding up your hand and he smiled.

Joel stood and took two steps forward when he froze. Something passed over his face that had you frowning with concern.

"What's wrong?"

"I - shit!" he exclaimed before turning on his heel and rummaging through his suit coat, which he abandoned across a chair on the other side of the room when you came to bed. You cocked your head to the side and allowed yourself a moment to appreciate how fucking handsome your fiancé was, bending over in just a tight pair of black boxer briefs. Your gaze flickered back up when he swiveled around, holding a small, black box in his hand.

"I got you a new ring," he said as he crossed the room, "I'm so sorry. Forgot to give it to you earlier 'cause, well -" he shrugged and shot you a playful grin. "Y'know."

"A new ring?" you repeated as you stood. "W-why? I have this one!"

He opened the box and you gasped when you saw the flawless cushion cut, crystal clear diamond engagement ring, which was bracketed by two smaller diamonds.

"Joel," you breathed, eyes flitting back and forth between the one in the box and the one already on your hand. "I-I can't! I can't have two!"

Joel chuckled and plucked it from the box.

"Why not? You got ten fingers."

You scoffed and shook your head, but he continued.

"I wanted you to have the option and I wanted to get you somethin' new," he explained while holding it out towards you. You stared at it, still in shock, but stopped yourself from reaching for it.

"You know..." you began slyly. Joel arched an eyebrow at your tone. "You never actually did get on one knee."

His hand dropped to his side and he narrowed his eyes.

"You want me on my knees?"

You bit your lip and nodded vigorously, and when he held your gaze and began to sink down to the ground, still clad in just his underwear, your heart began to do flips in your chest.

On one knee, he murmured your name lowly and reached for your hand. You gave him your right one and grinned when he slipped it onto your finger and asked, "Will you marry me?" for the second time.

"Yes," you whispered. You took a step forward and carded your fingers through his hair. Joel leaned into your touch and briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the way your nails scraped gently over his scalp.

"I see the appeal, now," you said softly, "having a man fall to his knee like this."

"Yeah?" he rasped, opening his eyes to give you a heated look. Then his fingers drifted up your legs to push up the satin nightgown you had slipped on earlier and your breath caught in your throat.

"Get used to it, baby, 'cause I'm ready to spend the rest of my life right fuckin' here." He leaned forward, pressing his face right between your legs and taking a deep breath before mouthing hungrily at your waiting cunt through your panties. You gasped, skin tingling, and fell forward almost instantly, hands sliding helplessly over his bare back while he held you up with his hands wrapped around your thighs.

With one swift turn to the left, he pushed you up against the wall and tugged your underwear down your legs. Tossing them somewhere behind him, he lifted one of your legs to drape over his shoulder, spreading your pussy underneath your hiked up nightie.

His fingers dug into your skin when his mouth came in contact with your center, groaning in delight to find you already so wet and eager for him.

Joel's jaw dropped open wide, sealing his lips over your slit and running the tip of his tongue up the middle. Your vision immediately blurred and you threw your head back against the wall in ecstasy. The scrape of his beard against your sensitive skin, the feel of his fingertips dimpling your thighs, the way his hot tongue laved over your cunt all had you reduced to a trembling mess in a matter of minutes.

You wailed out his name into the room, your voice echoing off the walls and suddenly Joel's plan to send away the crew was making a lot of sense.

"More," you whined while rolling your hips as much as you could without losing your balance. The one foot that remained on the ground was stretched, perching on your tiptoes, while the other was curled tightly over his shoulder, holding him in place.

His mouth released you with a gasp and you whimpered pathetically at the loss while your fingers clawed uselessly at his hair.

"C'mon, let's move to the bed. Want you to sit on my face."

His voice was deep and gravelly and it send a shudder through your limbs.

"No, please, Joel, I-I... I'm so close," you begged, looking down at him with watery eyes. He looked like a mess: disheveled hair, wet mouth, flushed neck. He scanned your face and relented, giving you want you wanted and diving back in between your thighs.

You immediately resumed rolling your hips against his face, chasing your high while his tongue slid messily between your lips over and over, collecting the arousal leaking from your hole and flicking over your clit teasingly each time he dragged his tongue back up.

"I'm- I'm gonna come," you gasped, unable to look away from how enthusiastically he ate at you. It was such a turn on to see such a wealthy and powerful man on his knees for you, a man people not only in his office but throughout the country cowered before. But not you. No, you had him wrapped tightly around your finger.

Well, two fingers now that he had gifted you a second ring.

It was the way Joel's lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it with a deep groan that had you tumbling over the edge. Your body bent forward with the force of your release, curving over his back with your hands buried in his hair for leverage.

"Fuck, that's it," he whispered into your pussy before swiping his tongue through your slit again. Tears stung the backs of your eyes from the stimulation but you let him continue, trusting him implicitly.

There was no doubt in your mind you would find little circular bruises on your thighs later from the way he clutched at you. The thought of seeing those marks, of seeing the way he claimed you, had your stomach muscles tightening unexpectedly once again. You cried out weakly as another gush of fluid flooded his tongue, then shivered when you heard his surprised groan vibrate throughout your entire body.

"Jesus," you rasped, chest heaving, when he finally pulled away. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes look nearly black in the dim lighting as he gazed up at you from his spot on the floor.

"So beautiful," he murmured breathlessly, dragging his wet lips over your thighs, kissing your bare skin and working his way up your stomach. His mouth brushed along the silky fabric of your pajamas until he reached the tops of your breasts. Once he found your warm skin again, he peppered kisses all across your chest and neck until he was finally standing upright and plunging his tongue greedily into your mouth.

His cock pressed hard and pulsating against your stomach while his tongue leisurely mapped your mouth, and your legs trembled from the idea of taking him inside your cunt again. You knew yourself. It would be way too much. You were exhausted and your muscles felt so weak, but you would be damned if you went to bed without taking care of him. So you broke the kiss, gave him a playful wink, then sunk to your knees between his body and the wall.

If he had any qualms about the change of plans, he didn't show it. He braced one hand against the wall and the other got lost in your hair when you peeled down the band of his boxer briefs and wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft. You dragged your fist up and down a few times, humming softly under your breath at how hard he was for you.

You locked eyes with him. He looked absolutely wrecked, leaning against the wall and looking down at you, jaw slack and eyes glazed over.

While still maintaining eye contact, you opened your mouth wide and slid your lips carefully around his girth, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before taking him deeper. His hips shifted forward, gently pushing more of himself inside your mouth until he kissed the back of your throat. You gagged a little and pulled back, earning a chuckle from up above.

"Too much?"

All you were able to do was shake your head. Your mouth was full of him, sucking him deeper once again while taking steady breaths through your nose. Joel's fingers tightened in your hair when you began to bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks with one hand still fisting his base and the other gripping his thigh for support.

"Fuck yeah, that - that's good," he moaned. Your chest swelled from the praise so you kept going, keeping a steady rhythm, sliding your tongue up and down the length of him until your lips felt numb and your jaw ached, and even then, you kept going.

"Oh shit, baby, don't stop," he growled. His fist tugged at your hair a little harder than you expected and you gasped around him. Somewhere above you, his other arm collapsed against the wall, now relying on his forearm to keep him upright while you sucked his cock with the kind of enthusiasm that had his knees going weak and his stomach pulling tight.

His hips rocked forward, meeting you thrust for thrust, groaning your name as he watched himself disappear inside your mouth over and over. Your tongue was flat along the underside of his cock when you felt it pulse and a moment later he spilled down your throat, swallowing every drop of his hot, sticky release.

He was cursing breathlessly above you while you cleaned him up with your tongue, and it wasn't until his hips stuttered and he yanked you off him by the hair that you stopped.

"Christ," Joel whispered, sagging tiredly against the wall with his forehead pressing against his wrist after you kindly fixed his boxers for him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were parted, sucking in air fast as he tried to catch his breath.

"Oughta propose to you more often," he panted with his eyes still closed. You giggled and stood, taking his hand. His eyelids fluttered open, allowing you to lead him back to bed.

"Please don't tell me you have a third ring somewhere," you said tiredly after you burrowed under the covers and he curled himself around you from behind. He chuckled and kissed the back of your neck.

"Nah, just two."

You smiled when he nuzzled your ear, his deep breathing already lulling you back to sleep.

"Where do you think we should get married?" you yawned, yearning to just hear his voice. His fingers searched for your hand resting across your stomach and he gave it a squeeze.

"Thought we already decided a year ago," he mumbled. His lips grazed the shell of your ear when he said:

"Fiji, baby."

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[goldenroutledge]

someday my prince will come

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count ⤜ 3.7k

summary ⤜ fluff. in which you’ll never feel alone as long as you have rafe, and he’ll never feel alone as long as he has you.

warning(s) ⤜ wedding planning stress, toxic family members

a/n ⤜ inspired by ‘alone together’ - sabrina carpenter || masterlist

Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed. That’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping it will wish away the cynicism surrounding what is supposed to be the happiest time in your life. Transactional relationships set the norm on Figure Eight for friends and foe alike. Everyone used anyone they could get their hands on, only leaving them for dead when the conditions were no longer suitable.

It should’ve been no surprise that people would be treating your upcoming marriage to Rafe that same way. As if it’s nothing but a transaction curated to mutually benefit yourself, Rafe, and your respective families. Truthfully, your relationship was anything but.

Years together proved that passion still burns between you, in a way that most can’t begin to dream of. Every look, every kiss and every touch holds that passion somewhere deep inside. There was no denying that you two have enough of it to last a lifetime and then some when Rafe got down on bended knee and asked you to spend your life with him. You love Rafe Cameron for all the right reasons and he loves you the same.

Your families and friends around you are fools to not acknowledge that, seemingly destined to have their own ways of projecting insecurities onto the both of you. Planning your wedding was something you imagined to be a magical time, selecting colors and florals that would paint a picture reminiscent of a fairytale. Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed.

From the moment your perfectly cut diamond ring was noticeable on your left hand, some chose to take it as a personal invitation to assert their unwarranted advice. It started with your mother, divorced and remarried now more times than you care to keep track of. Her guidance hardly resembles the special experience between mother and daughter that planning a wedding usually brings. After one of your first meetings with your wedding planner, you’d come to regret asking your mother to accompany you.

“I just don’t see why he’s walking you down the aisle instead of me.”

“You mean my father? I didn’t think you’d have such an issue with it given you chose to marry and have a child with him.”

“And I chose to divorce the asshole, too.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me, Mom. You both made your choices and I made mine. My father is going to be at my wedding whether you like it or not.”

“50 feet away from me at all times, I hope.” She speaks lowly, barely under her breath. You’d be burning with embarrassment right now if it weren’t for your wedding planner, ever attuned and able to spot an argument a mile away, who kindly left you and your mother to chat in private.

“Please, don’t worry about that. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with you either. The only difference is that he’s willing to tolerate you for the sake of my happiness.”

“This isn’t about happiness, Y/n. It’s about respect. Had I not raised you right, you wouldn’t be able to attract a man like Rafe in the first place. The least you could do is acknowledge your mother on your wedding day.”

“That’ll make for a beautiful toast at your next brunch with the ladies from the club. I’ll be sure to write that down.” You chide sarcastically, unable to hold back from rolling your eyes at her audaciousness. “It’s good to know that’s what you’re really excited about. Showboating to your friends that I found someone successful, not that I found someone I love.”

“Like it or not, it’s the truth. I’m not afraid to be honest with you unlike some people in your life.”

“What exactly is honest about guilt tripping me into letting you make all of my wedding decisions for me? For us! You’re lucky Rafe isn’t here or he would’ve thrown you out by now.”

“And risk our relationship just when we’re about to be in-laws? You’re ridiculous. I hope he knows the kind of dramatics he’s marrying into.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m not trying to be malicious, dear. I just want you to have your priorities straight.”

“Believe me, they are.”

“You can’t forget your family in the process, my darling. You can’t just leave me behind like I don’t exist because when this marriage is over you’ll realize that I’m not as crazy as you think. You’ll need me again one day.”

“When my marriage is over? This isn’t some fucking contract. We love each other.”

“There’s no need to get hysterical, Y/n. I told myself all the same things too. You’ll see.”

—

Your conversation with your mother left you disheartened at best, infuriated at worst. One look into Rafe’s eyes would have your worries melting away, but you can’t help the nagging feeling inside that’s telling you to say something. You know how much courage it took for him to open his heart to you in the way that he has. You know how much courage it’s taken for you to open your heart, too. You know how with each other it’s been so easy that neither of you really noticed how naturally your love has blossomed. When you fell for each other, there was nothing that could stop you.

That explains why this nagging feeling, that you assume is guilt, simply won’t go away. How can you imagine getting married to Rafe Cameron, the love of your life, and feel anything but unbridled joy. To give a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone doubting your relationship, you’d love nothing more than to proclaim your love for each other in front of a crowd. But in the many scenarios you’ve played in your head, none of them put you at ease.

There was no denying the deep trust that connects you, knowing that you can tell him whatever is on your mind. The worst thing you’ve ever done, the darkest thought you’ve ever had, he will stand by you through anything. And you would do the same for him. It’s why the idea of saying: ‘Hey, by the way, I don’t want a wedding’, is not something you can muster the courage for. Guilt begs you to tell him anyway, knowing how badly he would feel to know you’re suffering in silence like this.

Little do you know, Rafe is troubled in reconciling his own guilt. It’s not just your mother who wants to see the worst come of your relationship. Considering Rafe’s strained dynamic with his father, that should come as no surprise.

Cameron Development takes up most of Rafe’s time these days, leaving him and Ward to spend quite a lot of it together. Rafe prefers to keep their topics of discussion focused on the company. Their relationship works best that way, a transactional partnership between father and son that would benefit the Cameron legacy for generations.

But if it weren’t for Ward’s nagging, Rafe never would’ve ended up here at the Island Club having lunch with his father. He knows for a fact that it would’ve been time better spent with you, his future wife, desperate to feel the kiss of your lips or be able to exhale in your arms in the midst of a busy day.

Ward spends all of 5 minutes discussing some company stuff that could’ve easily been sent in an email drafted by his assistant before getting down to his real intentions. He always hides them behind the mask of a loving father.

“I lied about why I needed to speak with you today.”

Rafe scoffs, but always manages his expectations when it comes to Ward. “Imagine that.”

Ward chuckles, trying to play off his son’s jab as innocent sarcasm. “I wanted to talk to you about your soon-to-be marriage to Y/n.”

Rafe takes a gulp of his drink, already feeling slightly on edge and on guard at the mention of your life together. “What about it?”

“Have you two discussed a prenup?”

“Dad-” Rafe tries to interject, but to no avail. Ward’s already a step ahead of him.

“I know it’s only been a couple months into the engagement, but it’s never too early to have these conversations.”

“I don’t need to worry about having these conversations at all. And you definitely don’t need to be concerned with it either because I’m not asking her to sign a prenup. Simple as that.”

“Rafe, if there’s anything I’ve learned in my marriage to Rose-”

“Your marriage to Rose is a sham. And Y/n is nothing like her.”

“Y/n’s great.” Ward seemingly surrenders, in hopes to disarm Rafe while still getting his point across. “I’m not trying to suggest otherwise. I’m just saying that things happen in marriages and you need to be prepared. What do you think will happen to Cameron Development if she winds up with half in a divorce?”

“If we get divorced, it means that I’ve got bigger problems than potentially losing Cameron Development.” Rafe laments, finishing his drink. “Besides, she wouldn’t want it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know her. For sure. Alright?” Rafe fires back, firm intent behind every word. “I know you have a hard time imagining what it’s like to be loved for something other than your money. And I’m sure you have a harder time imagining how she could love me without it. But you can save your fatherly advice, I’m gonna live my life with Y/n without any of your prenup bullshit.”

Rafe grabs his wallet from his pocket, throwing down several bills on the table that he doesn’t bother counting. All that’s on his mind right now is getting back home to you.

“Have a nice day, Dad.”

—

At this point in his life, Rafe has mastered the art of ignoring Ward Cameron. He’s come to accept that they’re simply a better duo in business than as father and son. The family he came from felt less like family when he fell in love with you. Now that you were about to be married, it was gonna be real. You would be each other’s family not only in spirit, but officially on paper. For the rest of your lives you would be where you always belonged; together.

Right now, Rafe can’t shake the feeling that his father is already preparing for everything to fall apart before you two have a chance to build anything more. Logically, he knows the concept of a prenup isn’t a stupid idea. But his father’s intentions for him have proven to be anything but pure. There’s always something in it for Ward.

Rafe loves you, and that means he’s ready to share his life with you, money be damned. Besides there’s nobody more deserving for him to spend it on, no matter how badly you insist that you don’t love him for the fine jewelry or the dates at expensive restaurants around the island. For him, that’s all the more reason why he commits to showing you a lifestyle that’s beyond comprehension.

He wants to tell you about the absolute bullshit his father brought him to lunch to talk about today but hesitates in mentioning it at all. In any other scenario you’d both laugh it off, but this was a special time for your relationship. It’s delicate, and deserves to be handled with care. Rafe wants nothing more than to protect you from anyone looking to tarnish it.

Rafe’s final straw strikes later that night while waiting for you to finish your skincare routine and join him in bed. His phone sounds with several text messages from Topper. His eyebrows furrow in curiosity, expression quickly turning sour as he reads the messages.

Clearly, after cutting lunch short, Ward was quick to enlist Topper Thornton into his agenda. Seeing the way he wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s an easy enough target to carry out something like this. Rafe scans the messages, catching the gist of it.

Something about ‘A prenup is just insurance, you might not need it! But you should be prepared anyway cause she could leave you at any time, bro’ and ‘Have you heard of the infidelity clause? I'm not saying she would, but you know what Sarah did to me, better be safe than sorry.’ Rafe’s frustration catches your attention when he curses something about ‘this motherfucker’ under his breath.

“Everything okay, baby?”

Rafe looks up to meet your eyes peeking outside the bathroom door. He gives you a reassuring smile, but you can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes. Coupled with the fact that his energy has been off ever since he got home today, you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing, it’s just Topper bitching to me about the wedding. He doesn’t think he’ll find a date in time.” Rafe cringes at his white lie, but figures it’s better not to stress you out when you’re about to go to sleep. And it’s not completely untrue, Topper has expressed his concerns about finding a date ever since he found out about the engagement. At this point, it’s to be determined if he’s still invited.

You chuckle at the thought. “Our wedding date is 7 months away, surely that’s enough time.”

“Speaking of our wedding.” Rafe starts, which reminds you of the pit in your stomach. “How did it go with your mom today?”

“It was good.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows inquisitively, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice. Finishing your nighttime routine, you make your way to your shared bed. Rafe gets up to meet you halfway and to make sure you’re okay. He’ll be able to tell with just a glance.

“Okay, baby. You know as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Your heart flutters and you smile at him, knowing in your heart that he truly means it. “I know.” You press a kiss to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his large frame. Being in his embrace drowns out any lingering thoughts of frustration. After all, you could choose to blame it on pure exhaustion clouding your mind. “Can you believe we’re getting married in seven months?”

Rafe beams at the thought. “No. Can’t even fathom what I’ve done in my life to deserve you in the first place.”

You shove his chest softly, the tips of your ears warming up at his words. “If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Not sure about that one, baby.”

You sigh, full of contentment while being held in the secure hold of your fiance. Yet a part of you still feels resigned from the stresses of today. “Just ask my mother.”

You can feel Rafe’s muscles tense slightly before he pulls back to look at you. “What do you mean? I thought it went well today?” The gears are turning in his head as he anticipates your response. He’s always been great at picking up on the smallest of cues, be it the change in your tone or the look in your eyes.

“It could’ve been better. I mean you know her, she always has something negative to say about everything, she’s pretty much allergic to my happiness.” You chuckle softly, trying to deflect and keep the conversation from going where it’s headed.

Rafe is having none of it. “She doesn’t think we should get married?”

“Not without her involvement, ad nauseam. Everything I suggested, she had a better idea. She’s trying to guilt trip me into letting her walk me down the aisle instead of my dad. It was just her usual schtick, trying to control me any way she can, hoping she’ll get my attention by using our wedding to play her little mind games.”

“You don’t owe anything to her, not about this. Besides, security will take care of it if there’s any problems. I’m not gonna let anything ruin this for us.”

“I know.” You reassure him, running your hand up and down his arm. “It’s just a lot of tradition this, and family legacy that. She’s sucking the joy out of everything, like usual.” You mumble that last sentence, almost hoping Rafe didn’t hear it. “Not that I’m not excited to marry you. You know what I mean, right?”

Rafe nods, flashing back to the conversation he had with his father at lunch today. It’s almost uncanny to him how you two are often on the same page about everything. It’s comforting above all else. “Yeah, I do. I know exactly what you mean. I had lunch with my dad today, got a lot of the same bullshit.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I shut him down. I guess our parents are just hellbent on making sure we do things the same way they did.”

“As if we want to be anything like them?”

Rafe chuckles at your quip, relieved at how you two are able to make light of the stress your families have imposed on you. “As if.”

You both stand in silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm of being in your lover’s arms. The weight of your worries feel lighter now that you’ve shared them with Rafe, unfortunately knowing that they’ve made a home with you until the big day is over and done with. Hopefully you make it, if the stress doesn’t kill you first. If there’s anyone you’d have by your side through this, it’s Rafe. You can’t imagine enduring the hardships that life has to offer with anyone else. Then again, there are worse problems to have. Just seven more months.

“Did you ever see yourself here before? Getting married?” You ask Rafe.

“Not until I found you.” He charms, satisfied with the way you snuggle even closer to him. “How about you?”

“The same. Never thought I’d find the one until I found you. If I’m honest, that’s all I’m excited for, to just be husband and wife.”

“Y/n?” You hum in response, matching his curious tone. “Do you even want a wedding?”

You freeze, noticeably tensing the same way Rafe did some time ago. You knew the answer and had a feeling that he did too. It was painful to put into words. “I want to be married to you, Rafe. You know that right?”

“I know that, silly. I wanna be married to you too, clearly.” Rafe acknowledges, brushing his thumb over the engagement ring on your finger. “But a ceremony and a reception, the tradition. Do you want that?”

You can’t help but give him a knowing look, one that says damn, you’re good. But it’s also filled with a plea for understanding. “I could live without it, but our wedding will be beautiful, Rafe. I just want to make sure that it’s ours. I hope you don’t have the wrong idea, that I’m having second thoughts or anything because I-”

Rafe cuts off your ramble by kissing you, your face cupped in his hands delicately. He’s gentle, but reassuring. He needs you to remember that he knows you and he’ll never forget.

“Run away with me?” His eyes gaze into yours and there’s an intensity of love behind them that leaves you tearing up. “Our wedding will be beautiful, because it will be ours. Just you and me. We can still have the actual event, don’t think that I don’t dream of you walking down the aisle towards me. We can still have the party and the tall ass cake that you deserve. But having that doesn’t mean we can’t have what we want.”

Rafe’s never been more sure of himself as he watches a tear slip down your cheek, his thumb wiping it away before it can fall too far. You beam at him, and it’s your turn to kiss the man that you love. The man that you’re about to run away and elope with.

“Screw tradition, let’s get married.”

—

The sun sets in the distance, giving you and your husband the perfect view of your spot on the beach, taking turns at feeding each other bites of a miniature cake, coated in a silky white frosting to commemorate your marriage. It was Rafe’s surprise to you, having ordered it custom, and practically overnight, decorated with icing rosettes and your new titles, Mr. and Mrs., written beautifully in the center.

“Our families might kill us, you know.”

Rafe’s smile doesn’t budge, he’s convinced it might just be stuck on his face forever as long as he’s spending it with you. “I guess that means we’ll have to die together then, doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does.” You whisper, closing the distance to kiss your husband. You’ll never get sick of it. Golden rays from the setting sun surround you in glowing warmth, something you’ll feel in your heart from this day forward. The light catches your diamond ring perfectly and it winks at you with a sparkle, forever a reminder of the love you and Rafe share.

He pulls back, yet never too far as he holds your face in his hands. His cerulean eyes glimmer with a hope you only see when he’s looking back at you. “You don’t regret it? Not having the fairytale wedding?”

“This is my fairytale wedding. Just you, me, and a cake.” Rafe smiles, unable to imagine that this is his real life; unable to imagine that having him and him alone, is more than enough for you. There’s not a decision he’s been more sure of in his life than asking you to marry him. “Do you regret it? Marrying me without a prenup?”

Rafe scoffs lightheartedly. “You’ve already taken my heart so you might as well have the rest. Nothing else matters to me as long as you’re mine and I’m yours. I love you, remember? ‘Til death do us part.”

He holds out his pinky and you happily reciprocate the youthful gesture by locking your fingers together. “‘Til death do us part.”

Emotion overcomes you once more, pouring your heart into a kiss that’s as true as your promise to each other. You know he intends to keep his, and so do you. Daring to love each other through the pretty and the ugly, healing each other with a simple look or touch. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. If you don’t have each other, then you have nothing at all.

💌: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[spurbleu]

where the aster grows

ch.1 bookmarks neighbor!price x fem florist!reader

The sky wears blue to your grandmother’s funeral

Memories of yesterday’s rain remain as dew on the grass shards of the cemetery, but the sky gives nothing away. Robin egg belly, sun peaks from behind thinning clouds, and the crisp air denies downpour.

There’s plenty of irony, here. Every fiction iteration of death leads you to believe that nature cries with you, feeding the oceans and the dirt she returns to. And by all accounts of your Ma, who at the ripe age of 87 still jumped in puddles, rain had restorative properties. What about your grief had convinced nature not to join?

Perhaps you had enough for the both of you.

Your father graciously accepts the condolences as people file out into the parking lot. Even from where you stand, you can see the mulberry beneath his eyes, paling ears. At a certain age you forgot his fragility. Found it again as you drove him home after the last visit, offering the tissues in the front compartment. It was the first time you’d seen him cry. You’re nearly 35.

He joins you by the fresh grave once everyone had left. Her coffin is closed, and you think that’s for the best. The morbid curiosity died a long time ago. He doesn’t look at you, and you struggle with your words. You eventually settled with,

“Wanna get dinner? On me.”

His response starts with a sigh. When he faces you, you wish you were five again, when you didn’t recognize misery when it meets your eyes.

“Yeah.”

The hostess gave you a look. It falls somewhere between questioning the formal (albeit bleak) clothes you woreto their hole in the wall diner, or figuring out the relationship between you and man across from you.

The reality is it was a seven-minute walk from the cemetery, and was the cheapest place in the area.

As for your father, he looks young  for having a middle-aged daughter. You were a college baby. Your mom didn’t want the responsibility, but your father lacked the iron fist to change his mind on raising you alone. You’ve seen how guilt stamps itself to the print of his loafers for the trivial mistakes. Your absence would eat him alive.

You chew your noodles in a practiced silence. It comes as a surprise to you when your father is the one to break it.

“Your grandma was still working when she died.”

You pause mid-bite. “The…she still kept the old thing?”

Your Ma, after her retirement and just before your grandfather’s too-early departure to the grave, bought a floral shop. You’d visit them for weeks, sharing their flat in Liverpool and helping around the shop while your father worked. Once Pops passed, Ma offered you a paid position as an assistant. You took the job without the salary.

However, when you went to college, you had to quit. She understood- but said she couldn’t hire someone outside of the family. “Wouldn’t feel right”. You had assumed the shop dwindled with her age, and that it had been lost to time and some expensive construction project. But…

Your father laughs. “You’d be surprised. That ‘old thing’ kept a handful of cliental. Still running now.”

You stutter. The image of your grandmother, arthritis bows and yellowing teeth, giving flowers to a sweaty teen in February makes your eyes water. You take another bite to swallow the feeling.

“She never lost her charm, did she.”

He shook his head. He took out a folded piece of apple slice paper, and under the dim lights of the restaurant you see her cursive in browning ink.  

You look at him over your water glass. He confirms your hunch when he purposely avoids your eyes.

“Dad I can’t-“

He slides the letter to you. “I know. It’s up to you. but you wouldn’t inherit any debt. She owned the property. It comes with her old house, above it. And…”

He doesn’t say you’re jobless, but you hear it anyway. With your recent ‘let go’, you needed something to pay the bills if you wanted a roof over your head. The English major has really only brought you to libraries and we appreciate your application but emails. Your sigh makes your chest cave.

“I’ll think about it.”

The misery in his eyes is replaced by hope. You wish you hadn’t put it there.

“Great.”

The letter wilts on your desk for three days. You procrastinate opening it- not because you haven’t come to an answer, but because it’s the last remaining piece of Ma you have. It would be like unwrapping a limited-edition action figure or leaving an antique on the edge of the table.

You risk losing what made it so special to begin with. The choice to give an object mortality or permanence.

Your hands shake when you peel the stamp.

Missy,

When you read this, I will have finally kicked the bucket. Pops had always been the patient one, between the two of us, but I think he’s waited long enough.

I know you’ve got a lot on your hands. But the shop and house are yours when I’m gone, if you choose to have it. It’d kill your father, if I gave it to him. Don’t think he knows how to feed the flowers, and I can’t have them all dying on me. I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Think it’d just make him miss me, too. I gave birth to such a sap.

Keep him steady for me, will you? You’ll be just fine, I know it. I swear you were born with two green thumbs- if anyone knows how to keep my petunias, it’s you. And if you don’t take the shop, I want you to sell it. Your father has a notoriously bad sense of character.

Love you heaps and heaps and a pebble more,

You better miss me,

Ma.

You’re weeping when you text your dad for the key and address.

Although it is cliché, walking into the store feels like you never left.

citrus oil. tepid rain. chipping paint.

The store architecture is a family secret.

The room was vacant of the crowded charm that drips from green grape wallpaper before it met your grandfather. leather glove labor remains in the medullary rays of the oak that dresses the shop in various shelves, tables and chairs. The centerpiece, an island with base cabinets, is engraved with small familial symbols- some that you recognize- others older than you are.

But it’s not just your grandfather that breathes in the construction of the store.

Your grandmother was a talented ceramist. Being a florist, pots were her specialty. You find many of them in corners and nests on the floor, warm as they were out the kiln, analeptic in gauzes painted off-white and copper. They hold her other children, fiddle leaf figs and dracaenas, next to smaller pots of her florals, dwarfed by their greener counterparts.

But none of these things are known by someone who isn’t you, which is perhaps why it was so important you inherit it. The secret dies the minute its sold.  

The only anomaly is the cat.

Calico sleeps where you’d draw as a child. Nuzzles the lace curtains that haven’t been opened since Ma passed. Looks at you with eyes that convince you animals can miss someone.

You kneel with an outstretched hand, after setting your stuff down. She sits and watches you from afar.

“She’s not here.” You scold yourself for talking to a cat, but when she dips her head to the side you feel strangely understood.

“I miss her too.”

She rolls over, exposing her belly in what you can only assume to be an offering of vulnerability. You run your hand through the burs of her stomach, and when she starts purring the fondness your grandmother must’ve had for her balms your palm and the pit of your stomach.

Everything aches as you sit with applesauce legs on the cool tiles of the main room. It feels weird to call it yours- so you decide to share it with the cat.

“Do you want to run the shop with me?” She rolls over and nuzzles your knee. The corners of your mouth twitch.

Everything lulls. Ataraxia unravels from the spines of the walls. The sun sets over the sills, and the world seems to fold into you, the cat, and the space you’re still learning how to breathe in.

And then the door begins to rattle.

You think it’s a figment- until it rattles again, this time more aggressively.

You’re on your feet in two seconds flat, and the cat scampers to a corner. You see the flickering outline of a wide, tall figure from behind the lace shudders of the door. Your heart leaps to your throat.

In the ten seconds you have before the shadow enters the shop, your franticness focuses on a blue watering can on the shelf. The toolbox with the more intimidating and likely effective weapons sits across the room on a desk, which you do not have time to reach. At least this might keep the perpetrator distracted until you grab them.

The door rattles again, this time it whines at the hinges.

You brace your arm for the throw of your life.

The next few seconds register as a blur. You launch the watering can the minute the door opens, you hear a startled grunt, and you scamper to the toolbox across the room. You pull out a small shovel, aim at the door, until you notice that his eyes seem to be just as startled as yours.

He raises his hands forward in surrender, and your arm falters.

“Who the hell are you.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

When You're Ready

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: being a single mom, the hard side of being a parent, overstimulation?

Summary: Being a single mother hasn’t always been easy, and life catches up to you whether you want it to or not. You have so much on your plate that you’re not even thinking about being in a relationship. Spencer likes you and he makes it clear that he’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes.

Square Filled: huddle for warmth for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Today could not be any worse than it is right now. You didn’t have time to brush your hair, you barely got your teeth brushed, your clothes are wrinkly because you forgot to iron them last night, the heater is broken in your house so all your daughter does is complain that it’s too cold, and you’re trying to get both her and yourself ready for the day.

“Mama, I’m hungry!” she whines.

“Food is coming, baby,” you say.

As you try not to cry, you plate more breakfast for her and set it on her tray. She immediately digs into the pancakes like she’s never been fed before. The TV is blaring in the living room as it plays yet another episode of Spongebob, her favorite TV show. Right now, that little sponge is giving you a massive headache. The coffee machine beeps for the tenth time, and you have an overwhelming urge to chuck it out the window. The machine has been broken for quite some time now but will make a cup of coffee every once in a while.

Today is not one of those days.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings and you just about stop and cry right there. What now? Who could this possibly be while you’re already running late for work? You leave Casey in the kitchen and walk to the front door. On the way, you almost slip on one of her toys, and you kick it harder than you should have. You open the front door and see your housekeeper standing there. You barely have enough to pay her since you had to downgrade a bunch of stuff since the divorce, but she stayed and accepted the new salary.

You’re honestly not sure what you would do without her.

“Oh, Shelly, it’s you.”

“Rough morning?” Tears well in your eyes at her question because you’re forced to think how this morning has been in a sea of bad ones. “Oh, Y/N, don’t worry about a thing. I’m here now.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and close the door behind her. You turn down the TV so that you don’t have to shout at Shelly. “Um, Casey has a field trip today. I looked at the weather and it’s going to be cold so make sure she packs a jacket. She’ll fight it but make sure she has one, okay?”

“Y/N, how long have I been looking after this little girl? I’ll be okay. Don’t you have work?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Here, let me.”

She fixes your hair until it looks presentable, and you give her a warm smile.

“Thank you. The coffee machine is broken. I’ll pick one up on the way home.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a new one. I have a few other things to pick up at the store.”

“Okay. Bye, Casey! Mommy is off to work. I love you!”

“I love you!” she sings back.

Despite how hard it’s being a single mom, she always brings a smile to your face. Not only is it hard being a single mom, but you work in the FBI where your job is demanding and requires a lot out of you. It’s why you needed to hire Shelly. Before, she was here because your ex-husband paid to have her clean the house. You both had jobs and weren't home enough to keep up with it. Now with Casey, she’s a blessing in disguise.

Hotch makes it look so easy. Since Haley was killed, he’s been doing a good job at raising his son and being the Unit Chief. He has Beth and Haley’s sister, but it’s just him most of the time. You have no one but Shelly, and she only comes three times a week. Casey’s father fled the second you told him you were pregnant so you had to do this entire thing by yourself. All Casey knows is the team because you have them over ever so often.

She’s more familiar with Hotch since he brings Jack over for playdates because they are around the same age. Though, she loves Spencer more than anyone on the team. You’re only friends with him but he’s expressed interest in you. He’s made it clear that you’re on his mind, but you can’t be dating right now. There’s no time for boyfriends or flings or whatever Spencer would be. Your life is too complicated. Add in a toddler and a lawsuit for child support, and it’s too much for someone else to handle.

You told him this much, and he seems okay with being your friend. You still catch him watching you and blushing when you give him a compliment, but he’s been respectful of your boundaries.

You walk into work and notice everyone inside the briefing room. You practically throw your shit down on your desk and run to the briefing room.

“So sorry I’m late. Traffic,” you white-lie.

“It’s okay. We’re just going over updates on our cases and finishing files,” Hotch says.

The B Team must be out right now, and you sag your shoulders in relief. You need a chill day right now more than anything. After a rundown of the open cases, you take yours back to your desk to get started on them. Spencer does the same but he approaches your desk from the front.

You barely look up at him. “Oh, hey, Spencer.”

“Rough morning?” You scoff but don’t say anything. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. “How is Casey doing?”

“She’s good. She has a field trip today at the aquarium.”

Spencer is about to say a fact when he sees the look on your face. Maybe he shouldn’t be himself right now.

“That should be fun.” Again, you don’t respond. All you want to do is focus on your work and not on the headache you have. Instead of going back to his desk, he sits next to yours. “You know, if you ever need someone to watch Casey, I’m more than happy to do it. Even for an entire weekend. It’ll give you time to yourself.” You stop typing and look at him. “Only if it’s okay with you, of course. Or maybe I can come over and hang with her while you get some sleep or something.”

“What are you doing?”

“What? I’m just trying to help.”

It’s the way he said it that makes your back crack under the pressure. You know he doesn’t deserve this but you’re saying it anyway because he’s here.

“You’re not her father, Spencer!”

“I know, but--”

“Look, that’s nice of you to offer but I have been raising her by myself since she was born. Even before she was born. I didn’t need help then and I don’t need it now. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

You gather your finished files and walk away from your desk. Tears threaten to spill but you won’t let it. Not now.

“Okay,” Spencer says, his voice small.

Yep, you hate yourself now. Truth be told, he kind of scares you. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a man, and that scares you. He’s safe and predictable and dependable, everything you never had, not even with Casey’s father. He messed you up so badly that you learned you can’t depend on anyone for anything.

Not even Spencer.

After putting your files away, you slip into the bathroom and just cry. All this stress shouldn’t be good for you. The bathroom door opens and you immediately wipe the tears away. JJ frowns when she sees the tears, and you splash some water on your face to get the redness to go away.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you could come over to my place at two instead of four. Will is having his boys come at two, and I figured my girls could be there at the same time to get coordinated with them.”

“What?”

“Please don’t tell me you forgot about my wedding. It’s next weekend. You’re my maid of honor.”

Shit. You completely forgot about that. You’ve been so focused on not breaking down that her wedding has completely slipped your mind.

“No, I didn't forget.” You wince at the lie. “Okay, it slipped my mind, but I will be there. Two, not four.” You’re about to leave when you remember Shelly telling you she is going out of town next weekend. You don’t have money for a babysitter. “Would it be okay if I brought Casey? Shelly is going to be out of town.”

“Yes, the more the merrier. I love Casey, and I know Henry does, too.”

“Thank you, JJ,” you sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just stressed is all. I don’t think I slept more than a few hours each night, my hair needs a cut, I need an everything shower, and I don’t have time to do any of it.”

“Yeah, motherhood can be tough.”

“Tell me about it. Not to mention, I think I might have hurt Spencer’s feelings. I yelled at him. He’s just trying to help.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it. What did he say?”

“He offered to look after Casey for a weekend.”

“It might be good to take him up on the offer.”

You shrug. “I gotta get back to work.” You leave the bathroom and notice Spencer at his own desk. “Spencer?” He looks up and smiles when he sees you, making you feel even worse than you do. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or said those things.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. You were just trying to help.”

“The offer still stands if and when you want to use it. Think about it.”

The rest of the week is pretty chill since the B Team is still out, giving you and Spencer more time to strengthen your relationship. He shows up to work with an extra coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and a smile just for you. He wants to make sure you eat because that’s the only thing he can do right now to help you.

On the day of the wedding, you know he is going to be right there in the audience. He agreed to look after Casey while you stand next to JJ, so you’re getting her dressed in her pretty pink sparkle dress.

“So, while Mommy is up with Aunt JJ, you’re going to be seated next to Spencer in the audience. Right there in the front.”

“I like Spencer,” she grins.

You smooth down your hair and smile. “Me, too.”

“Are you gonna marry him?”

“No,” you laugh.

“I bet he’d make a great dad.”

You choose not to say anything to that and lead her down the aisle where Spencer is seated. The wedding is located in JJ’s own backyard, but it’s perfect. It’s everything she’s ever wanted and more. Casey has a strict bedtime but the wedding goes past that, so naturally, she gets cranky by the time the reception happens. She’s hungry and restless, two things a toddler should never be at the same time.

“Just another hour and I promise, we can go home. I promised JJ we’d be here.”

“I’m hungry, Mama, and I’m bored.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

You look up and see Spencer approaching you two.

“Sorry, she skipped her nap today, and it’s past her bedtime. She’s just bored.”

“May I?” You nod. “Hey, Casey? Would you like to dance? Just one, and then maybe we can get some cake.”

“Okay,” she grins.

Spencer takes her to the dancefloor while you stay seated at one of the tables. He whispers something to her and she eagerly steps onto his shoes. He dances around in circles with her on his shoes, and she giggles happily. It doesn’t matter how much of a shitty week you’ve been having. She’s smiling and laughing and that means you’re doing a pretty damn good job. Spencer picks her up and holds her close so he can dance properly, and she leans her head on his chest.

Would it be so bad to let him in? Maybe not, but you’re clearly not in the headspace for it. Is he willing to wait? You don’t want to keep him from other relationships even though it doesn’t look like he’s rushing to be in one.

After two songs are over, Spencer lets her down. He whispers something to her and she runs off in search of either Henry, Jack, or both. He walks over to you and holds out his hand.

“Care to dance?”

“Yes,” you smile.

You grab his hand and he brings you to the dancefloor. The next song is a slow one, so he pulls you in close to him. One hand in yours and the other low on your back. Has he always smelled this good?

“Thank you for what you did. She likes you a lot.”

“I like her a lot.” He dips his head lower so that his forehead barely touches the top of your head. “I like her mother, too.” Your heart thumps but in a good way. It’s like everyone else around you disappears until it’s only you and Spencer. “I’ll wait however long you need me to.”

You look up at him with tears. “What?”

“If time and space is what you need, I’ll give it to you. Just know that I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“You might be waiting a while,” you whisper.

“I’m a patient man.”

You rest your head on Spencer’s chest and let the music guide you. He runs his hand up and down your back, creating a safe and warm aura about him.

“You make me feel safe,” you whisper.

Whether he hears it or not, he doesn’t respond. He just continues to dance with you long after the song has ended.

x

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[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right? - Epilogue

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s daughter - Light angst - Fluff

A decade after the events of “Bad Idea, Right?” Eris and Y/N return to Velaris for Winter Solstice….. and Azalea goes on her first date.

Part 10 - Series Masterlist

10 years later

My eyes narrow as I look to him, “How are you so amiable to this?”

Eris shrugs- yes, shrugs- as if he’s as casual and irreverent as Uncle Rhys. “A few overgrown bats with snowballs are hardly the greatest obstacles of my lifetime. I think I’ll survive.”

I know he sees how skeptical I am but in true Eris fashion, he doesn’t borrow trouble as we stroll through the wintry streets of Velaris.

“You’re being suspect.”

“Oh, my little Spymaster,” he challenges, “shall you tie me up and interrogate me? I know how fond you are of eliciting both pain and pleasure.”

I can’t hide the slight upturn of my lips as I scoff, “Ever the masochist”

Eris only smirks. I know he thinks he’s won in diverting my attention but he hasn’t. Yet, I’ll let him off for now. I am the one who voluntold him to join in in this years snowball fight after all. Eight solstices we’ve spent together now, it was easy enough to reason that if he ever wanted me to “settle down” he’d have to join in on my families antics, however childish they may be.

What I didn’t expect was how easily he’d gone along with my orders to join them. It’s no secret in our relationship that Eris enjoys submission but that tends to be reserved for the bedroom, not in spending time with my family of busybodies.

I should be pleased by his agreeance but call it “spymaster’s intuition”, I’m not buying it. Perhaps I’ll send one of my shadows to referee.

Before we can make it up the drive Azalea is out the door with a beaning smile running toward us. She’s wearing a purple sweater and black skirt with stockings beneath. Her already long legs are further lengthened by chunky heeled black boots. My sister is gorgeous. She’s always been pretty, but she certainly has grown into her features and managed to snag the best of both mother and father’s genes. Her wings tuck in tight as if to combat the chill of the air.

Eris gets one look at her kohl lined eyes and glossy lips and looks to me with a raised brow, mouthing, “makeup?” As if the idea is absolutely abhorrent to him.

I roll my eyes. “She’s a teenager, deal with it.”

Now it’s Eris’ turn at skepticism, deep auburn-brown brows drawing together slightly. Good, let him be- actually, no, no skepticism. After all, Azalea is the entire reason I’m sending him to the snowball battle today.

“Guess what, Azzie?” I divert my attention to my younger sister. “Eris is going to participate in today’s snowball fight.”

“Yeah, I know.” She replies, fidgeting somewhat anxiously.

“Dad told you?” I ask, surprised my father would mention anything of it. He may have become accustomed to Eris’ presence over the years but to openly discuss his participation, whether welcomed or not, was…. Unexpected.

Azalea pauses for a moment before replying, “Mom did- helped her in the kitchen this morning- she’s packed an extra thermos of cocoa for him.”

A soft smile graces my lips at the thoughtful gesture from my mother and Azalea’s shoulders seem to slacken a bit at that.

Odd.

Before I can press further, father steps out the door, two insulated mugs of cocoa in hand as he stalks down the cobblestone path, stopping to pull me in for a hug and a kiss on the forehead and issue a greeting of, “Missed you, ornery.” before turning his gaze to my mate, looking him up and down with a scrutinizing glare. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

Eris dons a pair of weather appropriate boots, leather trousers, and an autumnal tan peacoat.

“Fucks sakes.” My father mutters before stalking back into the house and swiftly returning with a pair of lined Illyrian leathers - shoving the set into Eris’ hands with no further fuss and continuing down the drive.

Eris flashes me a smirk and pulls me into a warmth inducing kiss, triggering a dramatic gag from my sister before sauntering off after him.

I manage to catch an irreverant line from Eris about having fire in his blood and a gruff reply from my father about leaving his ass frozen in the Illyrian wilderness.

“He had them made for him you know.” Azalea’s voice cuts through my eavesdropping, reminding me that my younger sister is still here.

“He what?”

“Dad,” she gestures to the retreating forms of the unlikely pair, “the leathers, he had Emerie commission them for Eris.”

My heart squeezes. “When did he do that?”

“Years ago,” she shrugs, “Once he realized you two are truly happening and it wasn’t just a ‘screw you, dad!’ phase. He had them made in case Eris ever deign to join them for the snowball fight.”

Digesting the information, I can’t help the slight upturn of my lips, “I knew he liked him more than he let on.”

Azalea huffs “Like is a strong word, more like “begrudgingly doesn’t loathe him”

A chuckle escapes me and I realize how grateful I am for this brief one-on-one moment with my sister. “Why don’t we spend time like this together more often?”

Azalea loops her slender arm through mine as we walk along the snow covered path towards the house. “Because if we spend much more time together, items would begin missing from eachothers wardrobes.”

Raising my brow I take in her outfit. “Damn it, I knew that sweater you’re wearing looked familiar!”

———-

The house smells of warm bread and lavender, holiday preparation in full swing. Mother hurries over, fussing over me and taking my coat.

Ever the hostess, I know better than remind her that I’m perfectly capable of hanging up my own coat - thank you very much.

Mother pulls me into a hug and I melt into it, forgetting just how much a mother’s love can soothe the soul. I hope to provide the same sanctuary to my own children someday- but someday is NOT today. We’re immortal, there will be plenty of time for whatever karmic justice I have to face one day, after all the hell I put my own parents through.

And besides- I’m already stressed enough over my little sister, which leads me to the exact reason I sent Eris’ overprotective (and biteable) ass with my father and uncles today.

Azalea has her first date.

She looks to me, worrying her lower lip and I can tell something is bugging her.

“Alright, enough with the nervousness- what’s on your mind, kid?”

Azalea’s eyes roll so far back I’m shocked she can’t see the matter of her brain.

“I’m nearly an adult and it’s nothing. Just my first date, that’s all.” She lies poorly.

I give her my best “scary badass Shadowsinger” glare and she huffs, wholly unimpressed. Dad does it better and honestly, she’s never been affected by his stoic glares either.

Her wings droop slightly and she confesses, “I think Clara likes him.”

Oh- oh. That’s not good. Clara and Azalea have been best friends since they met at a solstice party in the Winter Court when they were ten. It’s now not uncommon for one or the other to be in each other’s respective courts during any given downtime.

“What makes you think that?” I ask, keeping my tone just north of pity, knowing pity will just close her off.

“She gets defensive when I talk about him, and defensive when he comes around. She told me she was going to ask someone to attend Starfall with her this year but soon after he asked me, she said she wasn’t asking anyone, that she wasn’t going… and she never misses Starfall!”

I see. “Perhaps it’s just a coincidence regarding Starfall and she’s still just a bit awkward around males.. not everyone is as forward as you are when it comes to communication.”

I earn yet another eye roll from her at my reference to the many times when she was a child with no filter that she disclosed any and all cringe worthy details of my personal life to any ear that would listen.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” I challenge.

She has the good sense not to disagree.

Sighing she plops down next to me, leaning her head on my shoulder.

“Are you at least a little bit excited for the date?” I ask, resting my cheek on top of her head.

“Yeah, I think so.” She sighs, sitting back upright. “I am. I just don’t want to date someone at the risk of my best friend, you know?”

“If something as inconsequential as a male can come between you two, I have no hope for friendships anywhere. You two are like burrs on a horses ass, inseparable.”

Azalea giggles at the ridiculous analogy that I’d picked up sometime over my years in the Autumn court, and it feels good to see the light return to her eyes.

“Go on your date, have fun. It’s just a date, it doesn’t have to be forever.” I advise as I guide her to her vanity, touching up a few flyaways and immediately regretting it because those little strands of chaos are so quintessentially her.

If someone were unable to look past those, they don’t deserve her.

———————

Gathered in the parlor, Azalea bounces her foot, waiting for her date to arrive. Mother and I watch with amused expressions as she waits.

“Thank the gods the guys are still at the cabin for the snowball fight. Dad’s bad enough as it is but could you imagine Eris? I guarantee you he’d be chomping at the bit to grill this kid with questions.”

Azalea doesn’t miss a beat as she fires back, “You’re one to talk. He’s only speaking from experience, gods knows what you two got up to on your dates. You two don’t exactly scream “modest intentions.”

“Azalea” mother scolds but there’s no real reprimanding behind it, in fact, her eyes dance with mirth.

My shadows however, dance with a bit of agitation.

A knock comes on the door and Azalea freezes.

“Is he here?” Mother questions, standing and heading to peer out the window.

Azalea only groans. “No…. It’s bad news though. Aunt Mor is here.”

I chuckle at Azalea’s disdain. Aunt Mor is somehow even more protective of Azalea than any of the males in her life.

I open the door as she steps in, exuding “cool aunt” energy. She brings me in for a big hug before rushing to Azalea and squeezing her impossibly tightly. Emerie enters behind her with an apologetic look speaking for itself, “I tried to stall her.”

Mor peppers Azalea with all the questions as Emerie takes a seat, knowing better than to intervene. She gives me a knowing look before musing at her wife’s questioning.

“Always searching for the truth, that one.” I mutter. Emerie knows better than to laugh but I don’t miss the mirth in her deep brown eyes.

Azalea is exasperated by the time her date shows up. I realize that until now, I haven’t even asked his name. Though I know it because Mor absolutely asked during her interrogation, three times to be exact.

I notice a figure stepping up the drive and can’t help but take pity on my little sister. Could I let karma take its course after all of the shenanigans the child- excuse me, teenager- put me through in her younger years? Yes. But today I relent… it is solstice after all. Happy holidays, enjoy the gift of peace, Azalea.

With a casual stretch I summon Azalea to the kitchen. “Hey sis, could you help me in here for a moment?”

Mor starts but Emerie, also taking pity on my sister and her suitor is quick to distract her in the best way she knows how. “Say, Elain,” Emerie clears her throat to ensure Mor is paying attention. “Where did you get those shoes- from that new boutique along the Sidra?”

Before my mother can get a word out, Mor is fawning over them- speculating where she’d acquired them.

Good gods, this woman and her shopping addiction. Thank the cauldron Uncle Rhys pays her so well. I’m fairly certain she and Amren’s contributions to the Velaris economy could fund half the city for a month, two if it’s close to the holidays and Mor is on a spree to find the worst possible gifts for those she loves most dearly. Last year she got me a pink pair of bunny slippers- though I begrudgingly admit, they were quite comfortable.

Azalea, cheeks still pink with embarrassment, joins me in the kitchen. “Quick, out the side door with you. He’s coming up the walk.”

Azalea looks to me with relief and gratitude that I’m not quite sure I deserve given that my shadows are practically vibrating with frustration that I won’t let them trail after her.

“Have fun, stay safe, and be home before the males get home from the snowball fight. Eris is going to kill me if he finds out I sent him away just so you could go on a date in peace.”

Azalea nods, throwing on a jacket and hurrying out the kitchen before her date - Alex - arrives to the front door and can be ambushed by the females waiting behind it.

I hear a flutter of wings behind me, I don’t turn to look as a slight figure perches on my shoulder and a small voice proclaims with a sigh, “they grow up so quickly.”

“Flori” I greet the little sprite. Years ago, Eris had pulled some strings to arrange the visitation of a sprite to Azalea’s “sprite garden” - little did he know, Azzie would find her fiercest defender and one of the best of friends in the sprite - who may or may not have become one of my spies. Sprites are notoriously incurably nosey with a love for gossip, making the vivacious little fae quite the asset.

“Do I send a shadow after her?” I ask, toeing the line of giving my little sister freedom and wanting her to be safe.

Flori simply preens “Already vetted him. She’s in good hands.”

I make a mental note to give the sprite a raise.

————————————

“She’s WHAT?” Eris blurts as soon as the words “Azalea” and “date” leave my mouth. He’d managed to make it out of the Snowball fight alive and despite his impassive behavior…. I think he might have had fun.

“Cauldron, say it a little louder, Eris. I don’t think the folks on the continent heard you.”

Eris smacks my ass, whispering with a low timbre, sending a wave of heat straight to my core, “You’re going to regret this later, little shadow.”

I shiver at the show of dominance. It’s not every day that my mate shows his more dominant side… to me, at least. A thrill shoots through me at the promise for the most delicious of punishments later.

My dad enters the kitchen seeming unbothered regarding Azalea’s first date which is a bit surprising to both Eris and I.

“What are you two gaping at me for?” He asks, not bothering to look in our direction as he pours a drink.

You seem quite unbothered, I muse.

He gives a shrug. “What do I have to be bothered about? I won the snowball fight and the day has gone off without any hitches.”

I plan to leave well-enough alone but gods forbid Eris do the same. “So your youngest daughter went on her first date and you’re completely unbothered by it?

“Yup” he says before taking a swig of his whisky.

Eris, ever unable to resist baiting him looks to me and speaks in a low, honeyed tone, “I remember our first date, little shadow.”

Dad falters for only a millisecond before throwing back the rest of his drink, pointedly setting his glass down quite heavily, clanging on the counter and stalking out of the kitchen.

I raise a brow at my mate, “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

His Adam’s apple bobs and he chuckles, putting an arm around me and pulling me in close. “Your father’s annoyance is the second greatest gift I could get this holiday.”

“Second? What ever could be first?” I ask wryly.

He gives me a sultry look, reminding me of the punishment I have coming away.

I smack his shoulder and we head back in to join my family for the evening’s festivities.

———————

Solstice is in full swing and there are a couple of things that never change. One, Amren looks like she just robbed the local jewelry parlor as she showcases the gems she’d been gifted by the inner circle- aside from Mor who gifted her a purple scarf.

Emerie and my mate dance a strange dance of dominance and submission. Eris, who is indeed a fire-wielding High Lord with more self importance than he knows what to do with, out of some faction of guilt and understanding gives Emerie her distance.

Emerie, who up until recently has made her dislike of Eris well known- in that, “I’m-not-going-to-talk about-it-but-make-one-snide-comment-to-Mor-and-I’ll-cut-you” kind of way, keeps her distance from Eris but always ensures she’s between the two.

Yes, Eris and Mor reconcilied decades ago, before I had ever met Eris, but I get it. Emerie and Mor are mates and, wrongs against the other- whether truthful or perceived are hard to forgive when it comes to someone you’re mentally and biologically programmed to love and protect.

The front door opens and in walk Nyx, Aunt Feyre, and Uncle Rhys, closely followed by Aunt Nesta and a sulking Uncle Cassian who is clearly still disappointed that he didn’t win the snowball fight.

Nyx approaches Azalea with a “hey little cousin! Where’s your date?”

Azalea audibly groans but it’s too late. Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cassian both gape.

“Date??”

Azalea groans. “Damnit.”

“Language” mother warns.

“Y/N said ten times worse when she was my age!” Azalea argues but mom only pins her with that practiced motherly gaze that garners no room for argument.

Rhys and Cassian turn to my father waiting for a reaction but he only shrugs. “My daughter is old enough to go on a date, I trust her.” He doesn’t add that he’s the spy master and likely has a fifty page compendium on everything her date’s done since he could walk.

Cassian lets out a low whistle. “I never thought I’d see the day our brother wouldn’t be a brooding, overbearing mess over his youngest going on her first date.

Mor snorts. “You can thank Eris for his lackadaisical response. If he could handle those two,” she gestures broadly toward Eris and I. “he can handle about anything.”

She’s not wrong, I think to myself, my lips upturning slightly.

My father ignores the comment, simply placing an arm around mother and kissing the crown of her head.

Before Cassian or literally any of my aunts or uncles can mortify Azalea or irritate father further, the doorbell rings and Azalea perks up, hurrying toward the door before catching herself, and waiting for someone else to get it.

My shadows have reported who is here and my heart aches for my sister. Clara. Azalea’s best friend whom she believes has a thing for the male Azalea went on a date with tonight.

They’ve been thick as thieves for so long and it saddens me to see her hesitate instead of throwing her arms around her like she normally would.

The rest of the guests seem to feel the same as the heir to the winter court steps in, graceful as ever with her white hair wound into an elegant braid. Her piercing blue gaze takes in Azalea and the tension in the room is palpable, it doesn’t take the tense way my sister holds her wings to sense it.

I give a silent gesture to everyone to carry on as not to make this more awkward.

I can’t tell what the two say to eachother but they both hold themselves stiffly before Azalea nods towards her room, likely so they can resolve things without the biggest busybodies in Prythian hovering.

Eris squeezes my hand. “Care to take a walk my love?”

“Sure” I whisper, feeling a bit flushed from the wine I’d downed before the party.

My father’s hazel gaze tracks us with an unreadable expression as we walk out the door.

————-

As we stroll along the Sidra, I can’t help but smile. We’ve walked along this river countless times over the years but I can’t help remembering the chaotic night we’d gone on our first real date to Sevenda’s and to Aunt Feyre’s art gallery opening. A chaotic yet altogether unforgettable night. Despite the strife of it all, I wouldn’t change anything, because here we are now.

My shadows float around us, as if they too enjoy the night’s breeze. Eris’ heat keeping us just warm enough.

“You’ve served our court quite well little shadow.” Eris speaks, his voice low and Ernest, his lips tilt upward as a shadow winds around his forearm down his wrist, and weaves through his long fingers.

“You have too.” He muses to the shadow. And it’s true, my shadows have made my spymaster skills a valuable asset to the Autumn Court, though Eris has never viewed them as a tool but as an extension of me, of the female he loves.

“It’s an honor to serve your court.” I speak truthfully.

He smirks. “You can lie to yourself by saying it’s mine… but it’s ours.” Before I can object or deflect, he continues, “And I’m the High Lord, as an individual in my employ, you must abide by my law. And I declare that it’s our court.”

I roll my eyes but my stomach flutters. I’ve fallen in love with the Autumn Court and learned how wonderful many of its people are over the years. An “autumnal wasteland”, I’d once called it. And yet, it feels like home now.

“You know-“ Eris continues, fidgeting slightly. Something so unlike him. “Do you remember that night all those years ago, when your sister caught us in that deliciously compromising position on the balcony- and your mother had that vision?” He asks with a hint of vulnerability in his amber eyes.

My brows knit, unsure where this is going. “The burning flame drives away the wild shadow.” I recite, remembering the night clearly. “Eris- what does this have to do with anything? She said herself that her visions don’t always mean anything significant. We’re happy and I don’t plan to leave you anytime soon.”

Eris shakes his head, resting a warm hand on my shoulder, I meet his gaze defiantly. “Look at you. I hope you never lose that spark… that fire burning within you.”

I scoff looking down, trying to hide the feeling of uncertainty in myself.

“Is the Autumn court your home, little one?” He asks, his thumb and forefinger gently clasping my chin and tilting my face so my eyes meet his amber hued gaze.

I can see it, the desperation in his eyes and I cannot give him anything but the truth. My heart races. “Yes.”

Something akin to relief slackens his features. “So, there it is. The burning flame, drove away you. My little wild, wonderful shadow out of the Night Court, to my home in the Autumn Court. To our home.”

Suddenly he spirits a square rectangular box of mahogany with autumn leaves and flames burned into it out of the pocket realm.

“Eris…”

His voice cracks with emotion and he holds up a finger, a silent plea with me to let him get his words out. “You have served our court well over the past ten years, little one, you have shown our people kindness and grace, and you treat the commoners with just as much dignity and respect as nobility- if not more. You have loved me well, far more than I likely deserve but I’m a selfish male when it comes to you and I’ve soaked up every ounce of love you’ve shown me. You are who I want to rule beside, who I want to keep waking up next to every morning. You are the one I would be honored to lead our court with. Please, my mate, do me the honor of fully accepting our bond and becoming my High Lady.”

He opens the box to which a golden ringlet crown of leaves and flame rests beside a ring with a matching band, and a gem that matches the amber stoned necklace he’d gotten me before I even knew we were mates.

All words escape me. It’s not that he hasn’t hinted at having me rule with him someday over the years but he also has recognized that I’m young, that I had personal growth to achieve that was important to myself and yes- recently, I have felt that I’m there. That I could do this, but I’d never said it. My mate has waited patiently, observed in silence, until he could sense I was ready. How could I deny him?

“Yes, Eris. It would be a privilege to be your High Lady, and an even greater privilege to be yours forever.”

He closes the box and spirits it away for now. I’ll wear the ring after I’ve offered him food and consummated the bond, and after we’ve seen a priestess to swear my vows to both him and the crown.

Gods, as if our sex life needs a mating frenzy when we can’t keep our hands off each other as is.

Eris’ eyes water and he pulls me into his warm embrace, a hug that I feel deep in my soul. He kisses the top of my head as I rest my cheek against his chest, listening to his heart thud.

We stand like that for some time before his eyes, so full of devotion, peer into mine, reading me like a book and loving everything he sees. “I love you.” He speaks gruffly.

“I love you too.” I whisper, my voice soft and sincere.

I crash my lips into his and we get lost in eachother.

———————————

When we return to the townhouse and slip out of our coats, I look up to see the family drinking and talking merrily. My father and mother both look to Eris and I. My mother smiles knowingly and father raises a brow. Eris gives him a nod and father raises his glass in silent congratulations. My lips part and I look to Eris.

Eris only flashes his patent smirk. “You may have sent me to the snowball fight with an agenda of your own, but I had one too.”

“You asked his permission?”

“Don’t give me that look, High Lady, I would have asked you regardless. I am a High Lord and can do what I want anyway.”

I just shake my head but my lips curl upward. “You’ll pay for your insolence, High Lord.” I whisper huskily.

Chill bumps rise up his arm but he stays strong. “Oh no, I’ll be punishing you for hiding the news of Azalea’s date from me first. I haven’t forgotten that.”

I look around and see she’s still not rejoined the family. “C’mon, I want to tell her before everyone else.”

Selfishly, I also want to ensure that things are smoothed out between her and Clara.

We head upstairs and I knock on her bedroom door with no answer. “Azalea?” I ask and knock again with no answer. It’s not like her to not answer the door and I don’t hear anything inside. It’s early for her to be asleep and I worry that she and Clara got into a bigger disagreement and Clara left. The thought of Azalea crying herself to sleep tears me apart.

Concern overrides my situational assessment and I turn the handle a moment too late to heed Eris’ sudden warning of “sound ward”.

I gape as the daughter of the Winter Court straddles my little sister’s lap, the two locked in a tangle of tongues and teeth.

“Well, well, well,” I muse at the sight as flashes of the night she’d outed Eris and I’s relationship a decade ago cross my mind. “How things have come full circle.”

“Don’t worry sis, your secret is safe with me.”

———————————————

A/N: Thank you all for reading this fic! I can’t believe it’s done. I hope you enjoyed getting a little peek into everyone’s life years down the road from the main fic. I appreciate each and every one of you who have taken the time to read!

Tags:

ACOTAR General Tags: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @ahaha0246

Eris Tags: @angiedsv

Series Tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe @acourtof-wingspan @paleidiot @anae-naea-zacheria @fandomarchiveilyd @bloodicka @12358

[melodyanqel]

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 ── ✦ h.ih. (two - more to live)

a pretty little thing, who grew up extremely sheltered and has never seen the horrors in life until she gets recuited in a mysterious competition.

⤷ pairing: hwang in-ho x fem!oc

⤷ genre/tags: fluff, angst, thriller, psychological drama, established relationship, games, action, financial issues, gambling, betrayal, team bonding, family, possessive!sadistic!in-ho, sheltered!sunshine!oc

⤷ warning: mention of health issues

⤷ wc: 1.3k words

⤷ note: it's our front man's birthday! hbd to this dangerously beautiful character! <3

⤷ melodyanqel taglist: @buckitostan @nadloves @gracesworks @verouys @foulbreadpaenut @avery-043009

Upon the eve of evening, when there is still the strength of day yet the softness of night, the city comes alive with music and light. 

Yu-na and her boss are cleaning up the café because it’s getting late. Her favorite time is when she clocks out from work and relaxes in her cozy home. She also likes to turn off the OPEN sign because another day has ended. 

Throughout her shift, Yu-na missed her uncle. Despite the conflicts between her aunt and Gi-hun, she never hated him. Yu-na knew about his poor gambling habits, lived with his mother after his divorce, and got too stubborn to admit his mistakes. But in the end, Gi-hun does have a heart. Yu-na can tell through his emotions when mentioning Ga-young that he genuinely didn’t want her to leave him. It’s pitiful. However, he still thinks of his daughter every day. 

“Thank you, Yu-na for today.”

Giving her boss a jubilant smile. “My pleasure, Mrs. Lee. Have a lovely night.” She leaves the place and notices the once-blue sky is now ink-black with splatters of stars and the crescent moon. Of course, the city is always loud and cheery at night. Yu-na starts to head home and luckily it’s not a long walk because there’s a neighborhood close to the café. Most people around the area know Yu-na because they have been homeowners since she was a child and a few are great friends with her parents. 

Yu-na kindly greets the people when entering the neighborhood. She also notices a little girl dressed in a light green dress and a flower beanie over her head, holding her father’s hand coming towards her direction. 

The child beams when she sees Yu-na. “Unnie!” She shouts the older’s name and sprints her small legs. 

“Na-yeon!” Yu-na bends down with her arms open—the little girl hops into the embrace. “Did you have fun in school?” She asked because Na-yeon started her education this year. They pulled away to face each other and the child responded, “Yes, I did! I learned how to draw because appa knows how to draw and my friends liked my hat.” She spoke enthusiastically, which made Yu-na smile widely. It’s nice to know Na-yeon is living her life to its fullest. 

Then footsteps come closer to them. Gyeong-seok or Na-yeon’s father approaches. He tells Yu-na, “The teacher also enjoys having her as a student. She brings an extra joy for the class.” He quotes the amazing feedback about his daughter. 

It honestly made Gyeong-seok proud of himself because he raised Na-yeon as a single father and the struggles and concerns about her chronic illness caused him to be overprotective. But then he reflects on his mindset to at least have Na-yeon enjoy life, even when she is fighting to stay strong. Gyeong-seok truly loves and treasures his angel and prays that luck will come true. 

Yu-na stands up and says, “I agree with the teacher. She is like the brightest sun in our universe.” The young woman looks at Na-yeon with adoration in her eyes. She takes a hand to pat her head. “I like your hat too. But you are prettier than the flower.” The comment was cheesy yet sweet because it made Na-yeon smile. 

Gyeong-seok also planned on taking Na-yeon to his work for the weekend and it's the amusement park. Yu-na is glad he is taking his kid to a magical place for the first time. Na-yeon had always wanted to go there because she loves fairytales, cartoon characters, and candy. She is like any other kid. Yu-na hopes Na-yeon will have fun and Gyeong-seok illustrates guests.

Afterward, the father and daughter bid Yu-na ‘goodbye’ and went home. 

✮⋆˙

In the Myung household, a family of three is at the dining table to feast on meals and talk about their day. 

They’re the same old topics: work, plans, and how they’ve been doing. For Yu-na, she brings something new to the table. “I met Uncle Gi-hun today.” She told her parents and they looked at her quite astonished. Her mother’s face lights up. “Really? Where has he been all this time?” Yu-bin becomes intrigued. 

Yu-na expounds, “He has been working overseas and has found a better living. His uncle said he stopped gambling because he was trying to improve his ways, which was shocking, but it’s understanding of him not to live on bad habits.” Her response is brief yet her parents comprehend.

Her father, Ji-won, tells her his thoughts. “It’s nice to know he is no longer in a negative life. Even though I’ve never shown any hate towards him, it was disappointing to see his behavior affecting others. That nasty divorce with his ex-wife caused so much trouble to the family that we weren’t so sure to continue being one. Sorry that I had to bring up your sister, my dear.” He sincerely apologizes to the love of his life. 

She shakes her head. “No, I’m with you on your opinion. As much as I never hated my sister and Gi-hun, their broken marriage had all of us worried. But in the end, I guess people do change.” Yu-bin does believe in second chances if the person is willing to make things right. 

Yu-na sighs, “I wonder if we’ll come together again.” She began to feel the nostalgia when times were different and the whole hatred didn’t come into their lives. Yu-bin reassures her child. “Someday. Keep on hoping for it and it’ll happen.” The mother also wants things they used to be. She misses her sister a lot more than she expected. The two women have a deep bond, even when they are countries apart.

Furthermore, the Myung family continued their dinner until it was time to sleep. 

Yu-na washes her greasy face because she ate delicious BBQ, soup, and dumplings. However, the calories were worth it. After having soft, clean skin, she jumps on her bed like a rabbit. The blissful feeling of cotton sheets and a blanket soothes her aching muscles. To end the night, she texts her friend she met in college. 

Park Chae-young is her name. Yu-na once thought she could seriously be a model for a fashion magazine—from face to body to attitude like so much perfection. Chae-young is also a hard-working student and dreams of becoming a registered nurse. It also makes it appropriate that her fiancé is a police officer because they are helping people in the community by providing medical care and maintaining safety, often in high-stress situations.

The quiet bedroom echoes her giggles here and there from the silly yet cute messages sent by her friend. Yu-na feels sleep taking over her body. She delivers one more reply before entering dreamland. 

✮⋆˙

It’s not a work day but a school day.

Yu-na carried her supplies in a pink and white backpack, wore a Cogimyun crewneck, flared jeans, and sneakers, and ate a quick breakfast—a toast with jelly. 

She leaves her home to meet Chae-young at the subway station. Whenever she goes to school, Yu-na appreciates how peaceful the morning is. It’s close to autumn so the weather is getting cooler and less humid. While leaving the neighborhood, a few people said “Good morning.” Yu-na says it back with her usual merry smile. It’s always amazing how a short yet meaningful greeting can uplift someone a little more. 

As she makes her way to her destination, Yu-na abruptly gets stopped by a person on the streets. It turns out to be a grown man who is fairly tall, with dark brown hair layered flat over his forehead and dressed in all gray and black. His facial features are sharp, thin lips, and has kind brown eyes. 

“Excuse me, miss. Do you know a café nearby?” He asked in a deep, charming voice. Yu-na politely answers. “Yes, I do. If you go down another block there will be one.” She points ahead of the street on her left, directing him to her workplace because that’s the closest. 

The man etches an elated expression. “Thank you so much, miss. Have a good day.” He bows to her. 

“You’re welcome and you too.” Yu-na does the same thing and watches him descend elsewhere before continuing her walk. 

series masterlist | three

[nori4419]

Suddenly, I thought that I wanted a fanfiction where Sevika (37-40 years old), the captain of the ship, discovered a girl (20-22) in the hold who had been hiding there for some time. Her only family member was her father, who was rarely at home and often played cards, taking the last things out of the house, arguing that he was doing it only for them, assuring her that one day he would win, return everything he had lost and ensure a good life for himself and his daughter. At one point, he decided to play cards with bandits, putting a very high price and, of course, lost. Confident in his luck that evening, he did not think how he would pay, the price was too high. All he had were old rags that looked little like clothes and a rusty compass with bent hands. Oh, no, he had something else, something very valuable, something for which he risked the most dangerous ways, something that he was very afraid of losing. He had a difficult relationship with his daughter, he often promised and often did not fulfill promises, there were misunderstandings. But despite all this, they sometimes gathered in the evenings around the creaking kitchen table and discussed everything in the world until late at night… He promised them his daughter. He promised that he would bring her in exactly one hour, setting up a meeting place near the pirate ship that stopped here for a while. He couldn't lie to his daughter. Once at the door of the house, he told her everything. Of course, he would never give it to them. "Run. Run as far as you can from here."That was the last thing she heard from her father. She had long wanted to escape from this life, away from the constant fear for her life, she had long known that sooner or later all these games would lead her father too far, he himself chose such a life. It was as if the universe had heard her, fulfilling her wish in the most terrible way. One moment and she's running faster than ever, one moment and she finds herself on a pirate ship that suddenly started moving and began to sail.

(my English is not very good, but this idea suddenly popped into my head)

[lisbethtylanhnem]

Rereading TFOTA and I realize one of the reasons I like it so much—so much more than Holly Black's other books, even—is because it's masterful at delivering on its initial promise.

The promise being a redcap murdering his unfaithful wife and raising her daughters as his.

Everything is a consequence of this.

Every single decision Jude, Taryn or Vivi take is directly influenced by this.

Jude wanting nothing more than power and becoming queen? Vivi wanting nothing more than to leave? Taryn nothing more than to fit in and killing Locke?

That's because they have Madoc as a father.

And this is also why I think the relationship between Jude and Madoc is the most important one in the series.

He is the main antagonist. His motivations and his moves stir the plot forward, always, and what stirs it even more is that he raised his daughters to be mini-him: more than worthy opponents, more cruel and cunning than most faes.

Madoc was behind the Greenbriar line assassination. He was the one instructing Taryn to fool Cardan. He was the one almost killing Jude in TQoN. And more that I forgot.

Just a thought, though. I'll refine it one day.

[not-xpr-art]

Curled tight as a question mark...

(01/2025)

Ok so I've been super obsessed with the AMAZING Trolley Problem AU fics by @silverview & @unreesonable (where Drew is the 22 year old Blake abuses instead of Ellie) for literally ages so it was only a matter of time before I'd end up doing some art based on it pfft...

Links to the fics below btw (also gonna ramble about this piece a bit since, as usual, I put way too much thought into it pfft)!!!

a better son / daughter

special arrangements

and all I'll do is kiss him (btw title of this piece actually taken from a line in this one which I really loved!!!)

spaces between

Highly recommend all of them btw, they're so GOOD!!!!!

~~~

Ok, so I immediately wanted to do a sorta twisted version of Klimt's 'The Kiss' but the concept kinda got away from me as I was painting it... Plus I couldn't get the vibrant gold colour to work with the general colouring of the figures so the background became like vaguely vaginal curtains that I could probably spin some kinda symbolic link to Drew's mother if I wanted to lol...

(think I made a joke on bsky that I'm in my Georgia O'Keeffe era and NO one laughed smhsmh...)

I've also been wanting to do something based on the iconic The Fallen Angel painting by Alexandre Cabanel but never really had a particular subject in mind... until NOW! (ofc the emotion is different but idk I think the reference still works... Drew's tears are more desperate, hopeless, resigned, and perhaps less angry than Lucifer's?)

I wanted the piece to feel like Drew is trapped. Trapped by his turbulent relationship with his mother and father, trapped by his status and position in life, trapped by his sexuality, trapped by the drugs... And ultimately trapped by Blake, who was supposed to offer him a paternal embrace, a comforting hand on his shoulder, to properly help guide him out of the hole he's stuck in but all he did was take advantage of his vulnerability and drag him further into that pit...

Also, kinda funny story, but I tried doing a cute romantic in9 art before I started this but my brain and hand were having none of it lol... NO adorable yaoi for you manipulative toxic yaoi ONLY !!!!!!!

Stylistically I wanted to try and make this look sorta traditionally painted, which involved me using a combo of my regular program alongside ms paint since I like the texture of some of the brushes on there tbh (plus those brushes are really great for painting body hair which I had so much fun drawing a lot of here lol)! Overlaid with a vaguely canvas-y texture lol

Oh, and also I put the diamond pattern of the jumper Drew wears in the episode on his underwear here both because it was going to get covered if I put it on his t-shirt and because it's sorta a fun way to reflect how this is an AU lol

Also have some close ups since tumblr has completely destroyed the quality of this lol:

(final close up is actually of a version of the painting without the texture overlay btw which is why the colours are slightly different, but I thought it might be interesting to share so u can see the brushwork texture a little better??)

uh anyway... that's all folks lol!

[bestworstcase]

I hope I’m not weird or offensive for thinking this that Oz and the GoL relationship has abuse undertones. I go as far as it reminding me of sexual violence. The violation of bodily autonomy, lack of informed consent, using someone else’s body for one’s personal use, sense of domination from the perpetrator, the victim having a fucked sense of self and self-hatred. The GoL is also Salem’s abuser who violated her autonomy and consent so it’s not out of character for him. RWBY has handled similar topics like Adam and Blake so it’s not like uncharted territory. I even seen ppl claim that the Curious Cat has similar undertones considering what they did to Neo.

"undertones"--even in the extremely biased narration of the lost fable, jinn, telling the story as ozpin understands it, draws an overt equivalency between the god of light and SALEM'S FATHER. you know,

What more could a man want? Just one thing: a son and heir. When his wife became pregnant, the whole castle rejoiced. But soon the lord’s fortune reversed. His beloved fell ill, gave birth to a baby girl, and lost her own life in the process. The lord locked his daughter in the highest tower of the castle and retreated to his chambers to grieve. Only he and the girl’s nanny were allowed in or out of her tower room, on punishment of death. Many weeks passed before the lord visited his baby girl for the first time, and he refused to hold her no matter how much the nanny encouraged or even begged him to. Over the years, his daily visits grew shorter. Then they became visits two or three times a week. By his daughter’s eleventh birthday, he was visiting only once a week. “Why must I stay in this tower?” the girl would ask him. “I am protecting you from anything or anyone that might harm you. You are the most precious thing in the world to me. I could not bear to lose you.” He brought her food and presents: dresses and hairpins, brushes and dolls, but nothing that she could use against him or to take her own life. [...] Meanwhile, miserable and alone, the lord’s sorrow gradually twisted into resentment. He raged against the unfairness of the gods and took out his anger on his staff. He became obsessed with increasing his wealth, as if money could replace the love of his life, increasing land taxes on his tenants and cutting his staff’s wages. Paranoid about losing all he cherished, he dismissed half of his servants and replaced them with trained soldiers to protect his riches and defend his castle. By the girl’s sixteenth birthday, the king was visiting only once a month, whenever the whole moon was visible from her tower window. “This was your mother’s favorite place in the castle,” he told the girl. “She loved gazing out that window.” “And now it is my prison,” the girl said. “You aren’t my prisoner. You’re my daughter.” “Then let me go,” she begged. “I cannot. Someone would abduct you and demand a ransom,” the lord said. “Or worse.” But the girl realized that the lord did not love her as a parent loves a child. Rather, he thought of her as just one of his treasures, to be jealously hoarded like his gold and jewels. […] “What is it?” the knight asked. “What else would make you happy, my dear?” Freedom, she thought. But she bit back the word, for that kind of talk made him angry and violent.

the man who was so viciously abusive that this is how ozpin depicted him in a sanitized fairytale account of what happened.

note, for emphasis, that by the time salem was eleven she was so actively suicidal that her father had to vet every object that went into her room against the risk that she might try to kill herself with it, and he didn't care.

ozma modeled beacon academy after salem's father's castle and put the headmaster's office at the top of the tower—in her cell. whether or not he could actually articulate this feeling consciously, deep down he regards the god of light as an abusive parent too powerful to defeat or escape. and we have seen, with light, that he becomes angry and violent whenever something doesn't go his way and that his immediate, first reaction to one of his creations doing anything he doesn't approve is brutal murder. he tears jabber apart, incinerates ozma, bites salem, shrugs when his brother vaporizes mankind. his ultimatum for remnant is "obey me or die." there's no undertones he is explicitly abusive toward everyone he comes into contact with including his brother.

[ravennaortiz]

2/1 A: I told my friend I would go on this stupid date/this is my problem why? with Chibs requested by @privatetruths As always 18+

You had barely stepped out of your car before Tig Trager was pouncing. His blue eyes full of mischief and lust as he looked you up and down. A playful smirk on his face as his wild black curls swayed in the breeze that had your skirt starting to billow. “I need to talk to the Scot” you stated firmly as you barely managed to keep your skirt down.

“Aww, come on Doll. I can give the cops daughter a better time” purred Tig as he batted his eyes at you making your roll your eyes before shouldering past him.

Stepping into the Teller-Morrow garage you pushed your sunglasses on top of your head as your eyes adjusted to the light.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of the local Sheriffs daughter? Daddy doesn’t have someone on the payroll for his babygirls car?” sassed Chibs, disdain dripping with each word. To say a love hate relationship had formed between you and the Sons was an understatement. The last time you had been here had ended with a raid of not only the clubhouse but all their homes. A night of fun and rebellion for you had landed them in serious hot water with your father.

“You don’t have to be a dick. It’s not my fault my dad overreacted” you snapped as you crossed your arms as you glared at him. Mentally kicking yourself for not containing your fiery temper when you were here to ask a favor.

Chibs chuckled as he wiped his hands of grease. “I think you and I have very different versions of fault and how to be accountable Lassie”.

You sighed before slumping down into a metal chair. “Look. I know ya’ll hate me. I get it. It was stupid of me to have used ya’ll in my little rebellion plan. I knew it would get a reaction but I didnt expect him to go nuclear with ya’ll. You stated looking down at your feet before looking back up at him as he leaned against the car he had been working on.

“Whats this got to do with me?” asked Chibs curiously.

“My friend is going on a date with this guy she just met. And I’m the only one in the group single now….and I told them I wasn’t cause they were teasing and shit, trying to hook me up with this loser of a guy. Ughh this is so stupid. I told them I would go on a double date as proof” you rambled out as you looked anywhere but at eh man in front of you.

“And why is this my problem?” laughed Chibs roughly as he turned back to the car again.

“Cause I told them I was dating a SON……and older man……with an accent” you replied quietly daring a glance up at him at the end. His eyes meeting yours with something in them you couldn’t quite place.

Chibs looked back to the car. Silently considering your words as he feigned interest in something on the engine. You were about to give up and leave, maybe try it out with Tig when Chibs finally spoke.

“Don’t know Lassie. I’m not a man who likes to be played with.” Stated Chibs his eyes still on the engine. “Besides I don’t need your father busting in and cutting my dick off and sending me to Stockton” he added with a shake of his head. “Yer pretty but not worth the risk Lass” he added before moving to the office.

You couldn’t help but flinch at his words. They cut terribly and hurt more than you expected. While you understood, you couldn’t help but fill challenged and you were not above begging.

“Wait!” you called as you hopped up and ran in front of him. Grabbing the front of his uniform you dropped to your knees. “I’ll do anything if you say yes” you whispered eyes on his as you started to fumble with his belt.

You almost had his boxers down before hands grabbed yours. “No need for this” stated Chibs looking over your shoulder at Tig and Gemma who stood watching. Your cheeks burned with shame as you followed his gaze. What the hell were you thinking? “I’ll do it. Just get up and have some dignity Lass” rumbled Chibs as he stepped back from you and walked out of the garage.

Three Days Later

Chibs would never admit it but he was actually having a decent time with you. Though he would love if the other couple would leave, they had done nothing but bicker the whole time. You and Chibs had exchanged secret smiles and texts about how bad a match they were. Things got worse and your friend excused herself to the bathroom as tears started to slip, you had gone after her.

When you both returned your friends date and his food were gone and Chibs looked apologetic as he looked at your friend.  Chibs had been very gentle in his explanation that her date had got his food to go and left. Wanting Chibs to pass on a message that they were done and not to contact him. Your friend had been inconsolable and Chibs had gotten all of your food packaged up and taken care of the bill as you held her. He even had one of his club brothers swing by to drive her home since the two of you had ridden on his bike.

“Wanna come in and finish dinner? I have beer in the fridge” you offered as he pulled into your driveway.

“I don’t” started Chibs before you shot him a pout.

“Please” you dragged out “I wanna make this night not as miserable for you” you begged.

“Fine. One beer and we finish dinner then I’m leaving” stated Chibs firmly as he got off his bike.

“Deal” you stated eagerly as you clapped your hands and moved to the front door making him chuckle.

"So much for just dinner and a beer" you laughed as Chibs flopped over next to you on your kitchen floor. Both of you out of breath and sweaty from the feral fucking you had just endured.

"Well had to see what else that mouth could do besides cause trouble" replied Chibs as he pulled you on top of him. His cock already hardening again as you ground against him. "Also figured I might as well go all the way with the Sheriffs daughter" he added before groaning as you slid down his length, nails tracing his tattoos.

[ganondoodle]

so, after this phase of depression, i am back at too many ideas at once and getting overwhelmed by all of it bc i cant do it all and dont know how to decide which one to focus on or which ones actually good and not just a brainfart

(so, some more botw2/totk rewritten ideas-

mostly text but i am unsure what to actually work on and draw or if its even any good, so id be very happy to hear your opinion on some of this qoq)

-was thinking about designing the sonau even though they might not show up physically, to keep their mystery alive, but i am playing with the idea of a dead one preserved in crystal in a larger cave, perhaps their last stronghold, i like the thought of them being rather small monkey like creatures with long tails that end in a light fern looking thing

--been also thinking more about the ancient queen zeldas and ganondorfs relationship bc i feel its compelling for them to have had a much more personal grudge agaisnt each other than i previously planned, gives more weight to everything-

though it is mostly background stuff that is not directly shown in the game, except for environmental storytelling -which botw was pretty good at- and diary entries you can discover (perhaps finding it and then telling riju and a gerudo researcher about it since it would be in ancient script zelda hadnt encountered before?), current thought was to have there be a secret lair that one of ganondorfs daughters used to live in after the sealing disaster sent both kingdoms into conflict, and with their mother dying in battle the eldest daughter would surrender and agree to whatever the princess of hyrule demanded, while the younger one would not bow down and those that followed her split off to live in the gerudo highlands, like another reoccuring theme with this being the prescursor to what happens with the shiekah and yiga later- of those are none left by this time (or should there?) and the diary of the younger daughter talks about her fathers secret hideout having being sealed shut as a sign of respect- it is inaccessible due to the structures beign damaged, but its serving as a hint there will be more; it will be made accessible after the mid game fight with ganondorf, in which you see the scene of the sealing, and he changes his position from hyrule castle that fell into the underground to the innards of the plateau- that being the final dungeon- in his room, might also be a part of his diary, at least from his younger days, and a bracelet of obviously hyrulian origin, which is meant to imply-

that the ancient queen zelda and him were in love once when they were both younger, though neither really acted on it (noble families pressures and conflictions yippie) until it was decided she would be married to a young knight of a noble hyrulian family, as it had been per tradition, after which they would not be able to visit each other anymore in the way they sued to as her father wanted her to prepare to take the throne and was way more strict than before, with one last meeting in that secret chamber and her leaving a bracelet there as a gift-

now heres the problem i ran into, that they had feelings for each other and used to be very close, as well as both having their own families later on is pretty solid and i want to keep all that but i also randomly thought about weaving the drama further (in that noble families kind of way especially, though again this would only be mentioned in his diary entry from the secret room you unlock, and since his younger daughter doesnt mention anything at all save for makign a point about not rummaging through her late fathers things out of her deep respect for him, its pretty clear she didnt know and neither did anyone else except for ganondorf himself and perhaps his mothers, this is all meant to make all of these characters have more depth even with getting little to literal no screentime, not to be a big focus)- so there was the stray idea of the ancient queen having a daughter 'just' after being married to that hyrulian knight.. and it being obviously not his, but gerudo, as gerudo traits are rather dominant(i think?) and the knight and ganondorf look nothing alike, so to avoid any sort of royal disaster that daughter would be secretly given to ganondorf to raise instead (which he would gladly do), and the official story being it was stillborn (the whole thing being worked out by a few maids sworn loyally to their queen .. im torn about the queen herself knowing or not tbh or if that even matters in the grand scheme of things (though i do like the idea of her knowing but acting like it is nothing to live up to being a wise and proud queen now thats shes under that pressure, she would change alot during her time of reign, going from that more typical unsure of herself but trying her best princess to a self confident cold and calculating queen, maybe he could even make a short remark about it), again this is still just vaguely implied background details most wouldnt even find out about, i just .. like to think about the background of things that make sense and give more weight to it all but arent what it revolves around and its neither essential to know, might as well be one of those things people would likely hear about in youtube videos)

i didnt find or dont know if theres any rule that princess zelda cant have siblings (i think she had a brother once but idk that may be different about sisters is the question) bc ganondorfs older daughter then not awakening any special (zelda reserved) powers could be simply bc she wasnt trained to do so (perhaps she would be able to hear things like zeldas often do but that too being only mentioned offhand) and him just not putting any focus on royal hyrulian traditions, it could be a secret rite too and honestly .. why would he try to train her to be the traditional princess of hyrule, awakening powers that are reserved for the hyrulian royals would make everything go haywire in terms of the secret about her mother, though im worried it would seem like her being gerudo is seen as 'tainted' instead, like she isnt a 'real' or 'pure' zelda and that being the reason, which somethign i do not like at all

either way that second part is purely an idea that i am 50/50 about using since its really not a big deal in the end and ultimately doesnt change much except make their relationship a bit more messier

---ahem, anyway, i also decided i wanted to model most sky islands after this one photo in my collection since it looks cool and would make sense to have these island be worn down by constant winds

---- i also want to flood the tabantha canyon with the forgotten temple and considered actually breaking of some pieces of landmass, like it is now a giant island, imagine akkala a kilometer away from the mainland for example, it wouldnt inherently change much about the structure but it would make it feel alot more different and provide good ground for different kinds of interactions since the people there would need to adjust to that, you can melt ice around the riot region easier than you can reattach a broken off giant piece of land after all

[maxdibert]

every time I imagine severus as a father it’s always with a very little women-esque family dynamic because I cannot for the life of me imagine him as anything else but a girl dad like .. his relationship with the women in his life is sooo important to his characterization

I genuinely think he’s the kind of guy who, at first, doesn’t want kids, but if the idea ever crossed his mind, he probably always imagined he’d prefer a daughter. Severus has always had closer—or at least less conflictive—relationships with women. All the positive figures in his life have been women, he’s always been more cordial towards them, and even with people he genuinely can’t stand, he tends to be less of an asshole to women. It feels like he’s more comfortable around them, which isn’t surprising considering the men in his life have all been awful: his father, who was abusive and violent; the Marauders, who made his life hell; Voldemort and Dumbledore, who both, in their own ways, used and manipulated him like a puppet. The men in his life have always been a source of conflict, whereas women haven’t.

Besides, Severus doesn’t fit the traditional mold of masculinity—he lacks the stereotypical traits of the conventional “alpha male”—and he’s not socially dominant in the traditional sense either. So it makes sense that he’d feel more at ease with a daughter rather than a son who might turn out to be some brainless, jock-type asshole he wouldn’t even know how to talk to.

That said, I also love the idea of him having a son who’s the typical intellectual, arrogant, existentialist teenager—completely insufferable—and Severus having to deal with a mini version of himself, but without childhood trauma. The idea of him constantly losing his patience would be pure comedy gold.

[angellekookie]

IN THE NAME OF LOVE & OTHER THINGS | MYG - Royalty AU [oneshot]

Summary: In which you really tried not to fall for him, but some things are inevitable, and you're ready to give u everything to be with him.

Genre: Romance (and maybe a little agnst? bro idk this was an accident

WC: 1.6 K

Warnings: None that I can think of, if I'm being honest.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x F! Reader

Note: Yall this drabble was naawt supposed to happen but since it did, let's call it either a prelude or a spoiler for another project I have in the works. It has not been beta read or checked for errors any at all. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading it nontheless, it was a fun distraction ^^

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto & @strangergraphics

You two were never to meet. Afterall, you were both from two different worlds that only ever intertwined in the shadows. You lived in ballgowns and politics, delicate hands never even having to feed yourself if you lack any such desire on a given day. He lived in stone and clay and plaster, calloused hands rumoured to be tinged with gold or magic because of how he could bring any material to life. 

You were the daughter of a Duke, and while he was indeed a prodigy, the most sought after artist in all the four kingdoms, that didn’t mean the public would take too kindly to a relationship or marriage between you. It would never work.

It’s what you’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell him that whatever it was between you two had to end. There was no future for it, nothing to look forward to.

So why did you fall in love with him? Just when did you manage to fall for the Hands of Midas himself?

You wondered if it was between the silences you’ve shared, as he was a man of few words. Or maybe it was the dedication and focus he had when he was working. Perhaps, one too many instances of you watching him work on the sculptures your father commissioned for the parlour. Nights where you hoped, prayed, wished and even went as far as risking your dignity to beg and plead with the skies if they could make you marble or clay or anything just once. How his hands moved creating lines and shadows, bringing new life to every area he touched - it made you wonder if he could bring a new life to you too. 

You heard him laugh exactly once, but you vividly remember every smile and you secretly wished they were all for you.

If only you knew that Min Yoongi had saved every smile for you. 

He never wanted to be sponsored by the Duke. He didn’t want anything to do with any of the nobles. He’d wanted to stay home, with his family. All he knew for his entire life was art. His mother’s singing, his father’s painting and his own love for sculpting. He was always quiet, observing the world around him and seeing every flaw. But Yoongi thought they were beautiful, so he used his hands to create the world that he sees, the one he loves. He didn’t need anything else. But going to stay with a wealthy family would be good for his own family. He’d get a great education, a place to stay and of course, he could sculpt whenever his heart desired- that’s what his mother told him as she sent him off on the carriage when he was younger.

Of course he missed his mother, cried for the first and last time the day he left. He was sure nothing could ever make leaving home worth it, wanted to curse the Duke and everything he stood for ripping him away from his recently widowed mother. Oh how that quickly changed when a girl with the kindest eyes and the biggest and brightest eyes ran out just as he was getting out of the carriage at the duchy. He noticed the dirt on her cheeks, how she seemed unbothered; happy. How she dragged along who he would correctly assume was a younger sibling- though she expressed more discomfort at whatever she was unwillingly being volunteered into. 

Being sponsored by the Duke had its perks, though. Yoongi would get to spend his days learning whatever they thought he needed academically, and as soon as that was done he’d get to bask in the glow of his art and his loyal audience of exactly one. Just as he would trace the lines on his current project, you would be tracing him. Of course, he couldn’t help the smiles he desperately tried to suppress whenever you were around. That was the only thing that could happen between you two, he knew that. You and him could never happen, surely such a pairing would be doomed from the start. He could only ever dare to reach out to you in his most wretched dreams. That was as far as he would go.

That was how far he thought he would have gone until that day between the marble and the roses things went just a bit too far. Spilled wine, whispered confessions and shared desire broke years of silence and tension. Suddenly, the spectator was the centre of attention. Though Yoongi didn't miss the opportunity that you had always been the star in his eyes. A star he never thought he’d ever get to hold in his hands, despite the risk of being burnt.

The risk was great. He knew it and so did you. 

And yet you would find yourself wrapped up in Yoongi always, somehow. You loved him, you were sure. So what if the risk was drowning? Whatever great thing that you were born to accomplish in this life couldn’t compare to loving him, being loved by him. 

Your mother, ever the noble lady she tried to raise you to be, asked you if you were sure that this was what you wanted to do. Left without a word to speak to your father, you presumed. You knew what it would come down to at the end of the day, knew that surely you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. 

Your father was always the kind of man to talk about duty and honour. Never failing to tell you and your sister the importance of the roles you were born in. He’d always encouraged you both that being a leader in any sense of the word, was to be wise both in mind and the heart. You were in his office with your sister when he told you that knowledge was just a blade without the handle of wisdom. You were also in his office whenever he scolded you for something like missing lessons with the governess (again) or whenever he praised you for a beautiful painting you made.

This time, you sat stood before him, too scared, too nervous for the outcome. Hoping the ‘But father, I love him’ you were holding on your tongue would be enough of an explanation for him. Hoping that you didn’t break down and cry and beg and plead for him to let you go. That you really tried not to fall for him, but some things were inevitable. You had so much to say in your defense. All ready to run away should they decide to lock you up in the duchy forever or marry you off to some old widower. You weren’t prepared for when your father took your own hand in his, and looked at you with something that you truly did not have the words to describe. “Are you truly serious about this? Do you love him, ___?”

“With everything,” The tears you planned to use and beg were now threatening to make an appearance for a whole different reason. “I don’t want to have to live a life knowing I gave up the chance to love him.” You sat at his feet like you used to when you were much smaller. “I know you’re disappointed in me and that I’ve let you down but father, I’m-” 

You never got to apologise. Not when your father told you you had nothing to apologise for, that he knows this must have meant a lot to you since you actually wanted to apologise for breaking the rules this time. He hugged you and told you he’d already spoken to Yoongi, that you both shouldn’t just run away, that he’d take care of everything- that he could make sure you were safe one last time. What could you have possibly done, except cry while your father held you for the first time in a long time, for the last time in a long time. 

It’s how you found yourself still crying in the arms of your younger sister. You had come to tell her that you had made your mind up, you came to tell her goodbye.

Evening came, stealing away the daylight, but also bringing the time you were to leave everything familiar and dear to you behind. You were still in your sister’s room, head in her lap as she absentmindedly stroked her fingers through your hair. It was almost as if she was the older one today, but then again- she was always the more composed of the two of you. You were leaving her with a heavy burden, a great responsibility. But you knew that she could handle it much better than you ever would, with much more grace than you could even think to imagine.

“What is love, that you’re so willing to give everything up like this?” You took some time before answering your sister’s question, only to put your thoughts together. 

“Love is something that knocks on your door at odd hours in the night. It warms your cheeks when you're out during the day, it chases you through meadows- it’s an adventure that comes to find you when it knows you're ready to sacrifice everything to chase it. Eventually, you’ll find yourself where love  rests.”

“I’m afraid you’ve left me even more confused than I was three minutes ago…” She looked at you, the sad smile not reaching her eyes.

“One day, you will find love, and find yourself, and find your answer.” That’s what you told her as you embraced her for the last time for a long time.

You yourself often wondered what love was. But in the carriage your father arranged for you the night you left home, in the place you now live with a man you were convinced was born from your dreams, in the letters you exchange with your sister ever so often… You can safely say you found it.

AN: Thanks again for reading everyone, feedback is always appreciated 😘.

Taglist

@livingformintyoongi @moochii-daisies @peoniesnro

[vigilante-3073]

Nightmares

Gregory House x Doctor Female Reader

Summary: House's daughter has a nightmare while her mother is at work.

TW: Mention of nightmares, crying, music.

It was almost midnight, House was sitting on the couch watching television as he waited for his wife to get home. Y/N was a doctor in the Emergency Room and often got held up when trauma cases were brought in.

She was incredibly skilled with a large wealth of knowledge, House had tried to convince her to join his team, but she always refused.

Y/N and House had been married for five years and they had a five year old daughter named D/N.

The little girl was absolutely gorgeous and was an exact replica of her father with bright blue eyes and brown hair. D/N had House wrapped around her little finger from the second she was born.

Despite his willingness to do absolutely anything for his child, D/N had always preferred her mother.

D/N clung to her mother in every situation, screaming and crying whenever her mother had to go to work. House wanted to improve his relationship with his daughter, but he had no idea how to go about it.

House flipped through the channels, settling on a documentary about sharks that would waste another hour of his time. He looked over when he heard D/N's door open before she came running down the hallway in tears.

House sat up, "What happened?" He asked as she rushed over to him.

He lifted her into his lap, D/N sobbed, gripping onto him tightly and burying her face in his shirt. House wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his hand over her back as she struggled to calm down.

"What happened? Did you have a bad dream? Are you hurt?" House asked.

"Had a bad dream about Mommy," The little girl hiccuped, wiping her tears with her fist.

"Your mom is fine. She's working," House stated, D/N nodded.

House held her close to himself, he could feel her breath catching in her chest as she continued to cry.

"What happened to your mom in the dream?" House questioned.

"She got hurt," D/N mumbled.

"I won't let anything happen to her," House said.

"Do you promise?" D/N asked.

"Unexpected things happen every day, but I'll try my best, okay?" He said.

"What does that mean?" D/N questioned, sitting back in his lap to look up at him.

"What does what mean?" House asked.

"Unexcepted," She said.

He smiled, "Unexpected means something that you don't think will happen. Like I don't expect a piano to fall on her when she leaves the hospital tonight, but it could happen," House said.

D/N's lip began to tremble as her eyes welled up with tears, House sighed.

"I didn't mean that. I just-," He started, trailing off when D/N began to sob again.

House huffed and pulled her into his arms, he held her close to himself as he watched the documentary playing out on the television. House thought that he might almost be better off as a diver swimming in shark infested waters.

D/N continued to cry, face pressed against her father's chest as she soaked his shirt with a mixture of snot and tears.

House sighed, giving her back a gentle pat, "Do you want to see something cool?" He asked.

D/N nodded, "Yes, please," She mumbled.

"You gotta get up for a minute," House said. D/N slid off his lap and onto the floor, following after him as he limped over to the piano.

He sat down on the bench, patting the space beside him, "Have a seat," House said.

D/N climbed up onto the bench, sitting next to her father, "I wrote this when I was younger," He said.

House began to play for her, she watched his fingers move across the ivory keys in awe. He played through the song a few times before lowering his hands from the keys.

"How was that?" He asked.

"Good," She stated.

He smiled, "Wanna try?" He questioned, she nodded her head.

...

House sat at the piano with his daughter until she tired herself out. She let out a yawn and he brought her to her room, tucking her into bed and making sure her nightlight was on.

House moved towards the door, "Wait, Daddy, don't go," D/N mumbled, reaching out for him.

"You want me to stay?" House questioned, she nodded.

"Scoot over then," He said.

D/N shuffled over in her bed, making space for her father to lay down beside her. His legs hung over the end of the bed, but he settled in to the best of his ability.

D/N shifted, snuggling into his side and resting her head on his chest. Her little hand gripped onto the material of his shirt.

House stayed with her until she fell asleep, he waited to make sure she was sleeping soundly before he slipped out from beside her.

House pulled the covers up over D/N, making his way over to the door and stepping out of her bedroom.

House closed the door carefully, he looked over when he heard a noise from the kitchen. House made his way down the hallway, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen.

Y/N moved around the kitchen quietly, heating up a plate of leftovers in the microwave and pouring herself a glass of wine.

"You're late," House stated.

Y/N jumped slightly, turning to face him, "You scared the crap out of me, Greg," She huffed, resting a hand on her chest over her racing heart.

"Your kid had a nightmare," House said.

"Is she okay?" Y/N questioned.

"She's fine... Papa House took care of it," House said.

"How long did that take you?" She asked.

"Not long... I may have given her the idea that you'd be hit by a falling piano, but that's beside the point," He said.

Y/N sighed, "Is she asleep?" She asked.

"Yeah, I played the piano for her and she settled down. I'm sure she would have preferred you though," House replied.

"I feel like I'm never there for her anymore," She said.

"You're working, not partying and she's going to have to learn to be without you at some point. Better to get over her attachment to you now rather than in when she's starting college," House shrugged.

Y/N pulled her plate from the microwave, setting it down on the kitchen island. She took a sip of her wine, returning the glass to the top of the island.

"I thought it would be easier than this. I know that's irrational," She started.

"Completely, but go on," House added.

"I know it's irrational, but I thought that everything would just fall into place... It seems to for everyone else, but it just won't for me," Y/N said.

"Everyone's life is chaos, some people just hide it better than others... You're a good mom and that kid loves you," House stated.

"Thank you, I really needed to hear that," Y/N replied softly, tears gathering in her eyes.

House sighed, making his way over and pulling his wife into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him with a sniffle, resting her head on his shoulder.

"My god, you're just like your daughter with all these waterworks," House said.

Y/N huffed a laugh, "Don't be an ass," She muttered.

"I'm just saying that our daughter clearly didn't get her emotional side from me," House said, rubbing his hand over her back.

"You're a good dad, House," Y/N said softly.

"I'm only in it for the number one dad mug, after that the kid's all yours," House stated.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Anything good on tv?" She asked.

"Reruns of Seinfeld and documentaries about the pyramids," House offered.

"Let's give Seinfeld a try," Y/N said, picking up her plate and wine glass.

House followed her into the living room, sitting next to her and turning the television on. He draped his arm along the back of the couch behind her, enjoying the time he was able to spend with his wife.

...

House woke up to the morning sunlight flooding into his bedroom. He turned onto his back, a confused look on his face when he realized that Y/N was still asleep in bed beside him.

He looked over at the alarm clock on his nightstand, it was almost eight o'clock in the morning. House turned towards her, his hand rubbing over her bicep gently. Y/N hummed after a moment, turning onto her back as her eyes fluttered open.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, why?" Y/N questioned softly.

"It's almost eight," House said.

"I called in. I'm gonna spend the day with you and D/N," Y/N said.

"Really?" House asked, she nodded.

"Then we're going back to sleep," He said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest.

Y/N closed her eyes, settling back into his body with a soft sigh. They laid together for another hour before the door to the bedroom opened.

D/N made her way into the room with her teddy bear clutched in her hand, hair wild from a night of sleep.

"Hey, baby, how did you sleep?" Y/N questioned.

"Not done yet. Still sleepy," D/N grumbled, stopping at the edge of the bed by her mother.

Y/N reached out and scooped up the little girl, tucking her under the blankets and holding her close.

Y/N pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I love you, baby," She said softly, brushing the mess of curls away from her face.

"Love you too," D/N mumbled, already falling back asleep.

House pressed a kiss to his wife's shoulder, "I'd say I love you too, but three's a crowd," He teased.

"I love you too, Greg," Y/N smiled.

They all eventually fell back asleep, cuddled close together as they wasted a day. House woke up after another few hours had passed, Y/N and D/N were no longer in bed beside him.

House dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth. House grabbed his cane and made his way out into the apartment, following the soft giggles of his daughter to the kitchen.

D/N was sitting on the counter, Y/N stood in front of her and allowed the young girl to drop the measured cup of sugar into the bowl.

"Good job, honey!" Y/N said with a smile.

"What next?" D/N asked.

"Well, next we need to add the oil. Mommy is gonna help you though because it can be really messy," Y/N said, D/N nodded.

Y/N poured the oil into the measuring cup before bringing it over to where her daughter was sitting, "Can you help me put it in?" She asked.

D/N placed her hands over her mother's and turned the measuring cup to pour the oil over the sugar.

"That was great! Thank you for helping," Y/N said.

"What are we working on?" House asked.

"Muffins!" D/N said happily.

"I love muffins. What kind?" House questioned.

"Blueberry," Y/N replied, cracking an egg into the mixture.

She passed D/N a whisk, "Can you mix this together for me? Just go nice and slow, okay?" Y/N questioned, D/N nodded and began moving the whisk through the mixture.

Y/N quickly measured out the dry ingredients into another bowl before returning to her daughter.

"Anything I can do to help?" House asked.

"We'll definitely need some help with dishes in a bit, but we're good for right now," Y/N said.

"Thank god," House smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before moving into the living room.

D/N helped Y/N mix and portion out the muffin batter before the trays were placed carefully into the oven.

Y/N and her daughter joined House in the living room, sitting down on the couch together while the apartment filled with the smell of fresh baked muffins.

"Can I sit with Daddy?" D/N asked softly.

"Of course you can, honey," Y/N smiled, lifting her daughter over to sit on her father's lap.

D/N smiled up at him, leaning into his chest as she watched the television, "Daddy, can we play more music later?" D/N asked.

"Whatever you want, kiddo," House replied. The little girl smiled, snuggling closer to him as House wrapped his arm around her.

He almost couldn't believe that something as simple as a nightmare would be the thing that brought him and his daughter together.

House definitely wouldn't mind taking care of her if she had any other bad dreams.

[babyrdie]

Oh! I think so!

In the Greek Anthology there is text in which she sees the destruction that Phyrrus caused as a kind of revenge for the death of Achilles:

Thou hast made to cease all the heavy woe of my heart for the fate of thy father Achilles, whom mournful Troy slew. To the Greeks who were eager for it thou hast given the undying glory which the ten years of war could not accomplish for the whole host of the Danai.

Translation by William Roger Paton.

It makes the idea in Pseudo-Apollodorus of her marrying Helenus even more intriguing…what is it like for her to see a direct victim of a destruction she celebrated? Troy to her for a long time was just this foreign land that kept taking things from her. First who was supposed to be her husband, then her son. She was removed from that, Skyros was an island that had no involvement in the war in most versions. A princess isolated on an island who keeps losing loved ones to the idea of ​​glory promised in Troy…it's easy for her to blame Troy. But Helenus isn't Troy, Helenus is Helenus. Nor is Andromache Troy, she is Andromache. Married to Helenus and seeing Andromache return, I think it's impossible that she didn't eventually realize that Troy isn't just an idea, it's made up of people. People who were destroyed by Achilles and Neoptolemus, people whose destruction she was relieved about because it meant Phyrrus wasn't at risk.

Furthermore, in the lost play The Skyrians by Euripides, Deidamia has no mother because her mother died:

Skyrians, which begins, ‘O daughter of Tyndareus from Sparta…; the plot is as follows: Thetis, having learned of (the destiny) of her son Achilles, wanted (to keep) him out of the expedition (against Troy), and so (she concealed) him in a girl’s clothing (and deposited him) with Lycomedes the (ruler) of the Scyrians. Lycomedes was raising (a daughter) named (Deidameia) whose mother had died, and he brought (Achilles) up as a girl together with her, his real identity being unrecognized; and Achilles… seduced Deidameia and made her pregnant. Agamemnon and his comrades (were told) by an oracle not (to make their expedition) without Achilles…Diomedes…(they,) learning…

In other words, she had already lost someone before Achilles. Achilles was the second loss, she feared that Neoptolemus would be the third. She didn't have a mother to accompany her in the transition from girl to woman, she didn't have a husband she could count on, and in the end she might have become childless too. I think she might be very scared. In some visual depictions, Deidamia grabs Achilles to prevent him from going to war. In Philostratus and Quintus Smyrnaeus, Deidamia actively tries to prevent Phyrrus from going to war. Deidamia tries and tries, and she can never hold them back. In that sense, she's kind of like Thetis, fighting to keep alive those who are willing to die if it means glory.

So yeah…I imagine Deidamia had a strange relationship with Troy and what that meant for her and her family. Initially, it was a place she had no interest in. She only had sisters, she didn't have a brother! And so none of the royals of Skyros were suitors for Helen, so Skyros wouldn't have to care about the suitors meeting. But then Achilles is in Skyros and she cares about Achilles. And Achilles may not have been a suitor, but he was wanted because of the prophecy. And then he's gone and Troy, which was nothing before, is now the place that took away the one who was supposed to be her husband. And he dies, so Troy is DEFINITELY the place that took Achilles away. Then Phyrrus goes to Troy in and it's like Troy wants to rip her son away too. But the son returns alive, so Deidamia can celebrate. She can take comfort in the idea that she won't lose the one she loves anymore. But hey, she's married to a Trojan now, Neoptolemus gave her to him. And if she learned to love Helenus…how can she celebrate that Troy is destroyed? Phyrrus, her dear son, isn't even Phyrrus anymore. His name is Neoptolemus now. He used to play with the shepherds' children, but now he returns victorious with Helenus and Andromache enslaved and a look no young man should have. Did she really celebrate Phyrrus' return? Phyrrus no longer exists. And if Pyrrha doesn't exist, who guarantees that "Pyrrha" existed when Achilles died?

And then there is no more comfort in Troy no more existing. There is no comfort because Achilles was no longer Phyrra, he was no longer that boy who played the lyre for her and complained about hurting his finger while trying to spin and weave. He was someone worthy of being called "the best of the Achaeans," a sacker of cities. And Phyrrus didn't return, it was Neoptolemus who returned. And Neoptolemus is no longer the son of Deidamia, he is the son of Achilles. Not the Achilles that Deidamia knew, but the Achilles that Troy knew. And the Achilles that Troy knew… is the Achilles that Deidamia desperately tried to keep from existing by begging him to stay in Skyros.

Now the destruction of Troy brings no comfort. And now, looking at Helenus and Andromache it brings only guilt. It wasn't she who set out to destroy Troy, but it was she who celebrated its destruction. She celebrated the misfortune of the people who would become her new family. A family she would never have had if Troy hadn't been destroyed because then none of them would need to be in Epirus.

Deidamia has SO much potential.

Deidamia has so much angst potential

Yes, she does!

Deidamia was just a girl who was most likely sheltered, considering her father only had daughters. Her mother is never present in the myths, I wouldn't be surprised if her mother was either dead or not a present figure. She probably spent her days without many worries, having a princess education and then spending the day having fun with her sisters (as, for example, Philostratus describes). And then she had feelings for this new girl Phyrra, and she probably felt horrible about it because it was definitely not well regarded (something similar to the poem attributed to Bion of Smyrna). But the girl wasn't even a girl, and so Deidamia was in love with someone she didn't really know as much as she thought she did. And they were two very young people without proper supervision and now she's pregnant (Deidamia even took a while to realize this in Euripides' version), but she's just a girl and this child isn't even a child of the marriage. And now she's being forced to grow up fast, because she has to be the mother of this unplanned child. And not only that, but the father is leaving because glory is more important to him than her or their child. Achilles will become a man through the glory of war, she will become a woman through motherhood. And they're trapped in these gender roles and they will never see each other again because his destiny is to die in Troy.

She raises this child as a single mother, although at least she has support (father, sisters, maybe Thetis). We never really get her point of view…how is she viewed because of this? In some versions, Achilles marries her, but in others he doesn't. How is she viewed because she's a princess who got pregnant before marriage by a boy who didn't even marry her and who will never come back? At first, did people even believe the story that the father was the famous prophesied son of a goddess? Phyrrus is so sweet, playing with the shepherds' children, having fun with his innocent toys and he will never be like his father, a boy who gave up the opportunity of a home for the opportunity of war (inspired by Philostratus and Quintus of Smyrna). But then the news that Achilles has died comes and Deidamia is mourning, but she is mourning a person she hasn't seen in years. A person she last saw as a boy, who now that he is dead is a man. Maybe her memories of him don't even match up with what he is like now, but she will never get to know that. She doesn't even have much time to mourn, because soon the same men who took Achilles are demanding her son. They took the man who was supposed to be her husband, and now they're taking her son. And no matter how much she or Lycomedes try to stop them, Phyrrus is too seduced by following the ghost of a father he never knew and who his mother probably doesn't even know anymore. And then her son goes away, and perhaps like his father he will not return. Like his father he will die young in a foreign land because the seductive glow of glory has taken over his senses.

But he doesn't die in a foreign land like his father, he is alive. But he isn't Phyrrus, he is Neoptolemus. He is no longer the child who played with toys and shepherds' children, he is the person who chased the elderly king of Troy into a temple of Zeus and killed him without mercy or respect for the gods. He is alive, yes, but Deidamia doesn't really have her son back. And so either we don't know Deidamia's fate or, as in Pseudo-Apollodorus' version, she is married to Helenus. She is then married to this man whose home was destroyed by both Achilles and Neoptolemus. And maybe she loves Helenus, but she also loves Achilles and Neoptolemus. And how can she deal with that? How can she love Achilles and still mourn him, if the person who was in Skyros no longer has the personality of the person who died in Troy? How can she be happy that her little boy has returned, if he is not even her little boy anymore? At least, not in personality. And how can she rejoice that Neoptolemus is alive, if for that Helenus had to lose his home and the people he loved?

And then Neoptolemus is dead, and she is sad. At the same time, she cannot want Helenus to share this grief. He has a right not to feel this way. And Andromache arrives in Epirus and Deidamia has to face directly the consequences of what Neoptolemus did, while thinking about how Achilles must have done similar things. And Andromache and Helenus have a connection that Deidamia will never understand, she can never truly know what it's like to be in their situation. She can only learn to face the fact that you loving someone doesn't make them inherently good to others. Helenus is taken by the presence of Apollo when he prophesies and she just has to learn to deal with the presence of this god, the same god who killed her son and her son's father. But, having lived with Helenus and Andromache, can she really find their deaths entirely unjust? She's still sad, of course, but can she really throw her hands up to the heavens and scream that it's injustice?

In a way, I think Deidamia is a good representation of what it was like to be a woman, although it is more specifically the reality of a princess. She has to deal with being an innocent girl, she has to deal with thinking about the possibility of liking another girl, she has to deal with the idea of ​​sneaking around with a boy, she has to deal with an unplanned pregnancy, she has to deal with being abandoned by the man who was supposed to be her husband, she has to raise her son without a husband while constantly thinking that her son's father is going to die, she has to find out that her son's father really is dead, she has to watch her son go to the same fate, she has to deal with the anxiety that he doesn't come back, she has to deal with the relief of seeing her son again and the loss of him not being the same anymore, she has to deal with the consequences of the actions of the men she loves on the lives of other people she has grown to love. And most of this happens while she is on the island, looking at the sea and thinking that this is the same sea that Achilles and Neoptolemus set out on for a distant land. At least, that's how I interpret her situation.

She has SO much potential, but people ignore her potential. Most of the time, Deidamia is just used to say something about Achilles and Patroclus' relationship. It's really sad.