#spring blooms from my sister

[katiexpunk]

Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

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S P R I N G  Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them. 

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful. 

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life. 

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite.  After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it. 

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged. 

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK. 

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore. 

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story. 

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one. 

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below. 

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug. 

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it. 

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think. 

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up. 

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram. 

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it. 

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep. 

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await. 

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste. 

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try. 

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts. 

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.  

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone. 

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl. 

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door. 

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open. 

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast. 

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door.  “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone. 

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive. 

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door. 

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess. 

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more. 

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even. 

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman. 

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious. 

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk. 

Oh god. 

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is.  You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it. 

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot. 

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.” 

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it. 

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note. 

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did. 

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it. 

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.” 

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain. 

God, he wishes you would have kept it. 

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days. 

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden. 

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown. 

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway. 

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it. 

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place. 

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy. 

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself. 

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside. 

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter. 

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help. 

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one. 

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy. 

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot. 

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh. 

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him. 

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease. 

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country… 

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile. 

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception. 

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box.  It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency. 

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.” 

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt. 

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him. 

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive. 

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink. 

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again. 

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls. 

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car. 

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom. 

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life. 

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one. 

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him. 

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected. 

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief. 

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had. 

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen. 

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated. 

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment. 

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves. 

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips. 

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips. 

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken. 

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching. 

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him. 

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room. 

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice. 

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it. 

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight. 

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock. 

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him. 

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm. 

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

[rinbowaman]

Baby Fever

Warnings: breeding kink, rough smut implied, smut-ish stuff, some minor choking, smut talk (breeding smut talk...if yk...yk). MDNI this is only for the grownups (18+).

Authors note: this drabble is canon to the HHP storyline > : ) I had this in mind for a few days and wanted to quickly draft it for yall to hold you guys off until the treat comes out this weekend 😉

What a gorgeous morning it was; the sun beaming brightly and the fresh, crisp Spring air filled with the chirping of birds, and the newborn flowers blooming in greeting. You woke up alone, figuring Heeseung was downstairs in the kitchen, considering the minor commotion you overheard from the bedroom. You got up and figured that on the first day of Spring, what better way to greet your lover than to wear the dress that he absolutely loved seeing you in. It was a purple mini floral, rather form fitting despite the subtle empire waist line, which gently showed a hint of your curves. The front had a stringed, lace front that tied the scoop neck line together, cradling your breasts and proposing the faint curves of your cleavage. It was both sexy, and pretty, especially when paired with sheer, black, thigh-high stockings, edged with a beautifully elegant damask pattern that subtly hid beneath the hem of your short dress. Your hair was left freely down, since that was the way he always preferred you wore it. He loved your hair.

Every single night, he would run his fingers through your strands, rubbing them together to savor the silkiness of the texture. He never cared to use a brush because it took away the pleasure of feeling that softness of your locks. The way he would drape the length of your strands over his knuckles and rub it against his cheek, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo, which always ended with him leaning in to suck on the back of your neck. If anyone should think that his behavior with your hair is absurd, you wonder what they would think when he looks into your eyes, or take his time to feel your skin...guess that will be saved for another story.

After conducting your morning hygiene, you walk down the stairs. Gripping on the ball tip of the large banister, you playfully swung your way around to face the open view of the kitchen and dining area, immediately making eye contact with Heeseung.

He smiles as he stands on the opposite end of the large kitchen island, with his palms plastered on the surface top and leaned over just slightly over a mug, more than likely containing his favorite coffee drink. He was dressed all in black, a black fitted tee, lightly tucked in black fashionable fitted cargo pants, with a black hat. The lines located at the corner of his lips was all that the bill of his headpiece would allow you to see as he smirks upon seeing you enter the kitchen.

"Oh, y/n! It's so good to see you."

Shocked by the voice from the side, you turn to view over shoulder and saw Steve, one of the frat tenants that lived with Heeseung and the other roommates.

"Hi Steve. When did you come back from vacation?" you ask with a delicate smile as you greet him, when a young woman appears from behind him with a small bundle locked in her arms. "I got back last night, it was so late and I didn't want to wake anyone so I stayed at a hotel. But, let me introduce my sister, she just had a baby two months ago and was in town so I decided to bring her over to meet everyone."

You smile gleefully as you greeted Steve's sister. "Oh nice to meet you." you delicately spoke as she does the same. "It's nice to meet you, your y/n, right? Steve was just introducing me to Ethan and mentioned you, it's so good to meet you."

Your peripherals caught on to Heeseung remaining stagnant in his stance, eyeballing you, Steve, and his sister, Lauren. He takes a sip out of his cup, his eyes never breaking away from you.

"How far along in college are you?" Lauren asks, in which you respond sweetly as you both continue talking about college life. Heeseung remained as he always did when around other people, a bit standoffish and quiet, glaring over and keeping an eye on you. At least he was being a bit more pleasant since he knew Steve, being roommates under the same roof for years now. It was typical, everyone, including the frat tenants, all knew that Heeseung "Ethan" became a walking malice since he began dating you, and it was evident that he cared for no one or anything other than you...you wonder what they would think if they ever knew that there indeed, was an "Ethan" entity that was more than just an english version of his birth name.

"Would you like to hold the baby?" Lauren gains your attention back as she presents her bundle of joy. "Oh...um sure." Cradling the small child, you held him tightly as you cupped him against your bosom. "Wow, you're so good with him." she remarks surprisingly as she straightens her dress and heads to the bathroom to freshen up.

That was to be expected. With all the time spent babysitting for your neighbors while in high school, you were quite used to holding and handling a newborn baby. You sat down on the dining chair and laid the baby against your chest, gently patting and rubbing his back, all the while he drifted off with his head nestled against the crevice of your cleavage.

"Looks like you're ready to be a mom." Steve joked aloud, meanwhile Heeseung kept sipping on his coffee, occasionally eyeing you from the corner of his sharp gaze.

"Noooo." you chuckled out. "I used to babysit for my neighbors, they had a baby that I would look after often." You explained, keeping eye contact on the baby's soft head as you gently palmed the back of it, rubbing the tip of your nose against it.

After some time went by, Steve and Lauren departed to spend a day in the old town, leaving you and Heeseung alone in the frat house. With all the other tenants away to enjoy the ongoing Spring festivals, the house was completely empty, and would be that way for the entire day.

"Can we go out for a walk?" you ask as Steve and Lauren walked out the door. Heeseung gently sets down his cup and issues a subtle nod. "Okay, I'm going to get my phone." you smiled out as you walked up the stairs, with him slowly following close by. Guess he needed to get something from upstairs as well.

He opens the door for you, a traditional habit, and allows you to walk in first. Halfway in the room, you barely caught your breath as you felt a sudden shift in motion with a firm lock around your waist. Nearly levitating you from off the ground, Heeseung swooped, and flung you on his bed, following suit and hovering over your body as you turn to face him. You stutter out a gasp from shock as your hair lays in a massive spread, with a few delicate strands across your face. There, you were met face to face with the devil.

His eyes dark, and his smirk was devious, but you could tell by the minor shine in his iris, he didn't swap over to his other side. The bill of his hat kept the shadow to grace over his face as he stares down. With one hand gripping your shoulder, the other reaches up and starts to pull the string tie at the front of your dress. He pulls, dreadfully slow as you feel the flap of your scoop neckline coming undone; one by one, he pulls each string until the opening was completely loosened. Your nipples peek from beneath the expanded laced string as your dress holds its remaining form. The hem was rolled slightly up from the swing of his strength when he threw you on the bed, exposing those thigh high stockings in full. Chuckling deeply, he pulls the last string on your dress as he spoke out in a shallow tone. "Does my girl want to be a mommy?"

You shook your head subtly. You were just being helpful, there was no way you thought about having children, besides, it was far too early considering you were still in your first year of college, not to mention you were still on birth control.

"N-no..."

"Mm...I think you do." he responds in an antagonizing manner and gently shifts the pieces of hair away from your face. He props himself steady with his palm plastered on your collarbone, and raising his body to rests on his knee caps. There, he takes advantage of your already spread thighs, and reaches in under your dress to scoot your lace panties off to the side. Once you were completely exposed to the cool air, he reaches in and with flickering fingertips, he tickles the sensitive flesh in between your plush folds. You gasp and moan out soft giggles, as did he. With a dark chuckle and biting down his lip, he remains propped to display the full sight of his abdominal region, where you admired the view of his hand reaching down, gently unzipping his black trousers, and his strong veiny hands fishing out the massive and swollen muscle that caused you to gasp at the mere sight of it. You reached up, grabbing onto his forearm as he remained on your collarbone, feeling his thumb swiping over the contours of the bone. Anticipating for what he was going to do, you felt yourself riddling with a burning sense of desire and passion.

You watched as the girth of his shaft and the bulbous tip disappear under the material of your dress as he leans in, and feeds it through, piercing your fleshy barrier until it finally makes its way in. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and speaks against your skin, "no more taking birth control."

"Uh...uh huh...."

"I wanna hear you say it."

"I-I'll get....get off it..."

"Let me take care of you....let me fuck you."

"Mm...mmhmm..."

He raises his form and once more, he props himself up by the extension of his forearm and palm planted beside your head on the bedspread. With his strong hand, he raises it as the tips of his fingers drag along your skin. Gently, with his fingers gracefully wrapping around your throat, he gives a faint squeeze, just enough to make you gasp a separate moan. With a dark and devilishly handsome smile, he gleams under the shadow of his hat; there it was...that eerie and rather handsome smile of malice and passion formulates on that face of his.

"Ready?"

You nod somewhat hesitantly. Bracing for intense pleasure, you knew all too well what was about to come, especially when feeling the throbbing sense of his tip as it barely lies inside you. "Y-yes...yes daddy..." you whispered, grabbing hold of his wrist as you prepare for a momentum that is unlike anything this world could replicate.

"Yeah?...come here, let’s do this, mommy."

> : )

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enha heeseung #enhypen smut #heeseung yandere #heeseung imagines #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung #heeseung au #heeseung enhypen #heeseung x you #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung x reader #yandere heeseung

[queer-little-demigod]

you belong with me - clarisse la rue

summary she's in love with her best friend.

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!Poseidon!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings jealous!clarisse, swearing, pining, knives, clarisse threatening people, fluff.

masterlist

dividers from this post of @cafekitsune, check out their account!

At this point, Clarisse had no clue how the hell she fell for you.

You relationship had started when she'd tried to intimidate you on your first day at camp, and instead of backing down under her fierce as death gaze, you had threatened her at literal knifepoint.

"I've stood up to bullies bigger than you," you'd snapped, your soft e/c blazing with fire as the tip of a dagger kissed the underside of her jaw. “So back off, or I’ll make you regret it.”

While that earned you respect amongst everyone in camp, it earned you respect of every Ares cabin member, too.

Especially Clarisse la Rue.

The scariest girl in camp.

It had started off with her debating on whether or not she would be mean to you, making you her enemy, or befriending you.

She was strong, not stupid, so she chose the latter option.

Which brought you both here, today, three years later.

The spring season had started setting in, flowers were blooming, the sun was pleasant, wind wasn't scarce and it was cool. Sitting under the trees in the woods became a natural pastime for year-round campers like the two of you.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the surrounding trees, casting irregularly shaped shadows on the ground, turning them a deep green on the slightly prickly but comfortable grass.

Clarisse leaned her back against the big tree you both were sitting under, polishing her spearhead, with you in front of her, doing the same for your knives.

The daughter of Ares, while she'd never admit it aloud, was absolutely smitten when it came to you. In fact, this feeling had been lingering in her heart for some time, one which attracted her to you in a definitely non-platonic way.

So here she sat, listening to you talking. Your voice was the only thing she was focused on besides polishing her weapon. It stood out amongst the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees, the call of a distant bird, the lapping of the lake's water against the edge just past the clearing.

"So, I told Silena that Charlie's in love with her, not her actual dumb blonde of a sister, Sharon," you said, rubbing the polish on the cloth you had in hand, before continuing to polish your left-hand knife. "You know, for a child of Aphrodite, she is remarkably oblivious towards loving advances. Oh, and you know that girl, Kyra, from the Hephaestus cabin? My gods, she has been looking so fine--"

Clarisse stopped listening right then. She knew you were smitten with this girl from the Hephaestus cabin, and by every one of the ever-merciful gods of Olympus, she hated it. She hated how you talked about Kyra, how your eyes lit up when the muscled girl covered with grease so much it was an accessory would glance at you.

She tuned out and stared at you, not noticing the disdainful look on her face.

"Risse, you look like you just smelled a wild centaur," you laughed, putting the cloth down and sheathing your knives again.

Clarisse rolled her eyes and grumbled, "No, I don't like Kyra's vibe."

"Aww, jealous?"

"You wish,"

You were so oblivious. Not only were you unaware that Kyra was a playgirl, but you didn’t notice that Clarisse was smitten with you to the point where it was embarrassing.

For starters she looked at you like you were the world. With adoration, awe, and wonder. She honestly couldn’t stop thinking about you.

She hated how you didn’t notice how her eyes lit up around you, how she was softer with you compared to others, how she let you paint her nails (mostly) without complaint.

You were just too oblivious.

Naturally, that evening, that same evening, she was at the Ares table, talking with her own siblings, while she watched you help Percy out with the rest of the camp’s social structures—something he hadn’t quite figured out yet, even after having gone on a quest.

But the way her blood boiled, as if a furnace had lit up inside her heart, making fire course through her veins, when Kyra came up to you. She saw how flustered you got, saw the way your cheeks reddened when Kyra brushed a hair from your face.

By the gods and her father’s name she wanted to smack that Hephaestus girl into next week…

Meanwhile, you say with Kyra, enjoying the butterflies in your stomach when she touched you, laughed at your nervous rambling’s. But the butterflies suddenly came into light as a warning. What was the likeliness that this affection would last? What was concrete in this interaction? Was it just a playful banter? Or something serious?

So many questions, not enough answers.

But one thing was for certain: Kyra wasn’t the one for you. It took just one interaction for you to understand that.

To understand that Clarisse was right.

But before you could walk away, your hotheaded best friend, seething with anger, jealousy rolling off her in waves, came up to you both and ‘borrowed’ Kyra for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clarisse asked as she led a very surprised Kyra into the forest. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, playing with Y/n’s feelings like that?”

“Come on,” Kyra laughed, Nerva wearing off a little as her arrogance took over. “She’s a girl, a smitten little girl, who knows she likes a little bit of muscle,”

“Unfortunately she doesn’t know that there’s a snake under that damned muscle,”

“Jealous, Clarisse? Of course you are,”

“What that supposed to mean, punk?”

“You’re so in love with Y/n, it shows. Everyone in camp can tell,”

“Oh is that right? If you know that so well, then you’d better stay the fuck away from her,”

Kyra’s brows shot up. “Is that so? What if I don’t? What if I take her to this very spot, and kiss her, maybe while you watch from the bushes over there?”

Clarisse felt her fists clench, felt her whole body tense up with an adrenaline that came out only during battle.

“What if I break your legs and punch that stupid face in?” She asked, eyes full of the familiar fire that only her opponents saw. “I don’t think Y/n likes the taste of blood.”

She relished the look of panic on Kyra’s face. The trapped-animal stare, the darting irises, searching for a way out, analysing her moves in that second. The tense muscles, clenched jaw, closed fists. All of it was familiar to the child of war.

But how familiar was it to the child of the forge? Not much, probably.

“Stay the fuck away from Y/n, and you and I won’t have any problems, Kyra,” Clarisse said, her voice soft. That made it more dangerous. It was soft like the gentle rain that preceded the flooding thunderstorm—a warning.

Kyra nodded, knowing it was unwise to provoke Clarisse La Rue, especially over a girl everyone in camp knew not to mess with.

But it also meant that Clarisse figured out the depth of her love for you. That it was deeper than the vastest sea, stronger than the biggest tsunami, and more damaging than a hurricane. It was fiercer than fire, more powerful than a blow from her spear, and definitely more dangerous than war.

So she’s decided to flush out her feelings. Get them out before things got worse because she couldn’t possibly find a way to get out of the ‘philia’ situation she had going with you. She wanted ‘eros’, wanted ‘ludus’, and she knew it.

Her catalyst was the mind, she wanted it to be the body., wanted it to be the heart. She wanted you in a way that friends never wanted each other. She wanted you the way Achilles wanted Patroclus, wanted you the way Romeo wanted Juliet, the way Orpheus wanted Eurydice.

She wanted you and only you.

But she could never have that.

So she decided the best way to manage her haywire heart was distance.

But by every one of the gods, big and small, was she wrong.

You found that Kyra didn’t look in your direction ever again, and additionally, found Clarisse avoiding you with nearly psychotic fervour.

Three days. You tolerated it for three days.

Finally you stormed up to Clarisse when she was training. With a swift kick to the back of her knee, you sent her crashing to the ground, disarming her spear from her.

“What did you think you were doing, avoiding me like this?!” You seethed, knife at her throat. “What, was this your idea of punishing me for having Kyra flirt with me?”

Calmly, Clarisse moved you off her like one would brush away a particularly disgruntled cat, and stood up.

“Look, I’m fine, I wasn’t doing anything,” she shrugged, grabbing her spear.

You rolled your eyes. This girl was dumb, stupid, and an absolute useless person when it came to interacting with others.

“I don’t think ignoring me for three straight days can be counted as ‘not doing anything’!” You snapped, annoyed.

Clarisse flinched at your tone.

“Why?!” You asked, following her around as she cleared up the arena. “Why exactly have you been ignoring me, hm?”

She listened patiently to your incessant pestering, going about her business while you looked like you were about to blow a gasket with how mad you were since your hands began to move more animatedly, your frown deepening even more.

“Why the hell did you say that nothing’s wrong when something clearly is?! Are you jealous? Is that it?! Why?!” You asked, expecting her not to reply the way she had been the last ten minutes.

Clarisse had had enough. She was taking the plunge into that deep dark sea, not sure if she was ready to face the monsters in it.

“Because I’m in love with you!” She said, turning around with a terrified look on her face. “I’m in love with you, and I didn’t know what to do about it because you clearly don’t love me back!”

You stood silent for a second too long. But she didn’t run. She stayed there, waiting for your answer.

“You’re in love with me?” You asked, baffled.

No butterflies, nothing fluttered in your stomach, your heart rate merely quickened and your body pulsed in every place with serotonin.

No butterflies meant this wasn’t just a thing, a fling. It wasn’t mindless flirting.

This was ‘ludus’, the love of intimacy, pure love.

“Yes, Y/n, and it kills me every single day, hearing you ramble about Kyra, and you know what I’m thinking when you talk about her like that?” She asked, tears ready to come out of her eyes. “I think that I could treat you like a queen, like you’re above Hera herself. I think that why would you love a playgirl who won’t give a single fuck about your feelings, when I’m here already knowing what you want for breakfast every day of the week! I think that I could be better than her, that I am better than her, in every possible way, but you’re just blind! You don’t see that I look at you like you’re the world because you’re so smitten with a girl who would toss you aside for the next blonde girl she sees!”

You listened to her carefully, taking in her words. In between, neither of you knew when, she had started crying. Small tears rolled down her bronze skin, tracing small pathways in their trail of sadness, of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you replied softly, stepping closer, putting a hand up to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry that I was blind to how you feel about me, I’m sorry for not noticing it sooner,”

“And Y/n, you’re my best friend, okay? I can’t…I know that we can never be together and…” she stopped short when your hands went up to cup her cheeks.

“Why is that?”

“Philia, Y/n. Friendship love.”

“Who says it can’t progress?”

“You don’t love me back,”

“I do,”

“Friendship love doesn’t count here,”

“Bold of you to assume I’m talking about friendship,”

Clarisse froze.

“I love you too, Clarisse,” you said softly, looking at her in her eyes. “And I’m not talking about ‘philia’. Gods I love you the way Achilles loved Patroclus, the way Romeo loved Juliet, the way Orpheus loved Euridyce,”

“I thought that too,” she whispered, shocked. “How…”

“I know that because these three romances are the ones I’ve read to you,” you replied. “I know you, Clarisse. But I was too blind to see your love went past my mind and extended to my heart, my body, my soul. And I’m sorry for being blind.”

“You belong with me, not her,”

“Do you see me doubting that?”

She giggled softly. Clarisse La Rue, the most feared girl in camp, giggled like a little kid.

“It’s okay, I guess, you little dumbass,” she chuckled. “So…what now?”

“I don’t know, do we kiss?” You asked, confused. “You know I have never kissed a girl before and—“

She silenced you with a finger to your lips.

“Let’s…take it slow? Ease into it?” She asked. “Cause I have never kissed a girl either,”

“Be my girlfriend, though?”

“You thought I’d say no?”

Hi! It’s me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3

#clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #friends to lovers

[syrupgirl]

Request:

Could u write a fic ab Sully family x y /n reader? Where she lives with the sully family after her parents died, she gets taken by the colonel in the forest and is set up for bate because he knows she important to the Sully family.

a/n: the way I interpreted this, reader is taken by herself rather than what happens in the film where all of the kids get taken. I did use the rough layout of the scene for inspo but it does diverge from cannon ie Neteyam is with the kids when they get discovered. I hope that’s similar enough to what you mean. also reader is na’vi and around Neteyam’s age :p

Sullys stick together -The Sully family

“Catch me if you can!” Tuk yelled. Her little feet pattering along the branch of an enormous tree, while you and the rest of the Sully children chased her for sport.

She giggled delightedly, dodging out of the way of Lo’ak’s hand.

You really weren’t supposed to be out this far. Too close to the battlefield Jake had said. To close to where the sky people had already begun laying their claim on Pandora. Not if the Na’vi had anything to say about it.

But oh, it was such a beautiful day, almost no clouds in the sky, Kenten floated around you with the unfurled fan necks slowing their descent. Who wouldn’t want to get carried away with the day?

Suddenly, little Tuk ran into the trunk of a tree and startled back, falling on her butt. Kiri rushed forward and kneeled beside her, rubbing her back.

“Oh Tuk, are you ok? Are you hurt?” Kiri asked, ever the nurturer.

Tuk rubbed her nose and sniffed, tiny little tears blooming in her eyes. “Yeah, just got a fright, that’s all.”

Kiri helped the youngest sully stand up and continued to comfort her. Tuk reassured her sister that she was ok and Kiri relented. Tuk then wandered off to continue her little adventure.

“Wait, guys! Look!” Lo’ak whisper shouted.

Everyone looked to the direction he was pointing. Spider’s eyes widened and he even gasped a little.

“Wow, bro. That’s where my dad and your dad fought, right?” He asked Neteyam.

Neteyam didn’t answer right away, looking almost sheepish. “Yeah, bro.”

Lo’ak looked like he could barely keep still, a giddy grin upon his face.

“Well c’mon! Let’s have a look inside!” He was about to spring up when you put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“No way! We have no idea what’s in there, there could be some old tech still active, or…I don’t know, some angry beast!”

Despite not being a blood member of the Sulky family, after Jake and Neytiri took you under their wing and growing up with them for so long cemented your place among them as family. You were as much Neteyam’s sister as Tuktirey was.

Despite not being a blood member of the Sully family, they listened to you and cared about what you had to say, or that’s what you thought.

“That’s why we have our knives, skxawng.” And with that Lo’ak got you to sprint to the abandoned lab. Well, he would’ve had it not been for the tussling of the bushes opposite where you were all crouching.

“Sit down!” Neteyam gritted out, he grabbed his younger brother by the back of his neck and yanked him back down beside him. Lo’ak started to protest, talking about how it was probably some harmless animal. The sound of voices shut him down. Voices speaking in, english.

You were confused. Sky people should not have gotten this far out without drawing attention of the clan. Neteyam motioned for everyone to be still and you all watched on as the voices got closer.

Neteyam turned on his comms and started speaking to Jake. You could guess what he was saying; do not engage, retreat, stay low and out of sight. All very good suggestions in your opinion.

You kept your gaze intently to the direction of the voices, just waiting for them to pop out so you could get a good look at them and hopefully get some answers to your burning questions.

For better or for worse your questions were answered sooner than you thought.

Aside from the speaking english, the only thing that gave them away for being avatar and not Na’vi was the tactical gear. They were fully decked out. A few of them had arms decorated with tattoos and…sunglasses, Jake had called them.

They slowly approached the abandoned lab with guns raised and eyes everywhere. You all ducked down further once you realised you were way out of your league. Unarmed humans you might be able to handle. Armed humans, definitely more difficult but you had done it before, but avatar who were armed to the teeth along with the strength and speed of the na’vi made for a dangerous mix. You all watched as they searched through the building, overturning the insides of it.

“Come on, dad is on his way, he told us to fall back.” Neteyam’s urged all of you, gesturing into the forest behind him.

“What? No! This is our- my chance to prove to dad that I can help! I can be an asset to the people!”

Neteyam and Lo’ak continued to bicker when you noticed Kiri looking around, looking around desperately.

“Kiri?” you asked, “what’s wrong?”

The girl looked almost brought to tears when she looked up to you.

Her voice trembled, “Where is Tuk?”

Oh god.

She had disappeared before Lo’ak had picked up on the lab.

No one had seen her since.

Kiri clasped her hands around her mouth, she looked about as scared as you felt. God, little Tuktirey.

Abruptly, the group of avatars in front of you trained their guns on clump of trees of to your right. You had heard the sound too, a snap of a small branch or twig. Whatever had stepped on it was light.

Light enough to be Tuk.

The hostiles started to walk toward the noise. It’s like you were watching them in slow motion. Off to the side you could see Kiri’s eyes widen, horror flashed across her face. Spider had a similar expression, his eyebrows upturned in the centre. Lo’ak and Neteyam had stopped their fighting and just looked scared out of their own minds. Neteyam for once didn’t have a solution for everything.

So you did the only thing you could think of. A stupid, stupid thing looking back on it, a stupid thing parading itself as bravery. You scrunched your face, said a silent prayer to Eywa to deliver Tuk to safety and to give you strength for whatever was to happen.

You lept out from behind the log and dashed out of cover.

The avatars snapped their attention to you and raised their guns, but you kept charging towards them. Unsheathing the small knife you kept on you at all times, you cried out.

An avatar with short cropped hair on the top of his hair held out his hand and caught you around the neck. He didn’t hold you tight enough to strangle you, but tight enough that you couldn’t escape. He lifted you up into the air like you were fresh prey.

You struggled and snarled, trying to get your knife in any part of him that you could reach.

“Well, well, well, lookie here…” Quaritch chuckled darkly. He motioned for his squad to lowers their guns and the obeyed, observing their colonel with obvious amusement. It made you sick, you probably outwardly grimaced.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before.” He muttered. Quaritch made a show of ‘hmmm’ing and scratching his chin in fake thought. “Ah yes, i’ve seen your runnin’ around with the Sully spawn. You’ve been causin’ a lot of trouble, you and those other brats.”

You pretended not to understand him, opting to keep snapping and thrashing at him. It was not a complete lie; while Jake had taught you some basic english, you could probably only form the sentences of a small human child.

“The thing looks feral…” A teammate muttered from behind the colonel and the squad laughed.

“Don’t be fooled, soldier. These Na’vi can be quite clever when they put their heads together.” The colonel responded.

Thinking of your family behind you, you hoped and prayed that they had retreated back with Tuktirey.

Quaritch lowered you to the ground but before you tried to make a break for it, he wove his fingers through your hair and pulled hard.

You bit your teeth to stifle a scream and reached up to attempt to pry his hand off of your head.

“I know that there’s more of you back there, in the tree line, so you behave and my team will leave them be.” Fear flooded you at that, hearing that this man knew you weren’t alone. With a snap of his fingers he could have you all held hostages. So you stilled. You rested your hands back at your sides and begrudgingly set your gaze on him.

The avatar holding you smiled.

“Children o’ Sully! You listen here,” he spoke in english before switching into what seemed to be pretty broken na’vi, “you tell your father to come here, and this girl will be returned unharmed in exchange for his compliance.”

At least he didn’t know Neteyam had already been in contact with both Jake and Neytiri. If they just pretended to leave, Jake and Neytiri would think of a plan. Like they always do.

The bushes where everyone was hiding rustled. Quaritch tensed and the avatars behind you raised their guns once more, but the bushes stilled, no other came from it.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You hoped that they had gone back home or at least taken Tuk back.

“Alright everyone, I’m guessing we can expect Jake Sully and his mate getting here pretty soon.” He drawled, turning to face his team. “Get ready for an attack. Be on your guard and keep your new eyes and ears sharp.”

-

Jake and Neytiri quietly dismounted their Ikran and armed themselves. Neytiri looked as if she was shaking with rage, her mouth downturned and her eyes looking for a threat.

“Hey, I’m sure they’re all fine. They’re tough kids, they’re our kids which make them tougher.” Jake attempted a joke but it died out in the silence when Neytiri did not respond.

They hadn’t landed far from where Neteyam told them they were and they were almost silent as they crept forward into the thicket.

A flutter of motion from they’re left has Neytiri’s bow drawn and aimed at the spot.

“Mom! It’s just us! It’s me, Lo’ak!” Lo’ak revealed himself from his hiding spot, arms raised and Neytiri breathed a watery sigh.

She rushed forward, took her baby in her arms, and held him tightly. Lo’ak wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed. From behind him, Neteyam and spider emerged too, looking a little more embarrassed. Jake looked at his eldest and frowned.

“Where are your sisters?” He asked. Neytiri finally set Lo’ak down and gasped a little, noticing the absence of three of the Sully children.

“Kiri took Tuktirey back home and..” Neteyam looked ashamed, “yn was taken.”

His mother squeezed her eyes closed. Even if you weren’t born of her, you were her daughter. The idea of you being taken, as bait no less, had her heart in her stomach and her chest alight with anger.

Jake sighed and his face turned stony. “You all stay here, stay hidden, while we clean up your mess.” He whispered. The boys wilted and sunk back.

-

Your legs were starting to ache with how long you had been standing and your scalp with how hard the grip he had on your hair.

The man who had been holding you earlier passed you off to another one of his teammates, who seemed to take liberties in yanking your hair every once and a while.

The once clear sky had filled with clouds and rain trickled down through the canopy above you. No one had spoken in a long time, like everyone was holding their breath.

Suddenly, your ear twitched and you flicked your eyes to where you had heard…something. It could just be the sounds of the forest, an animal eating a plant or a ripe piece of fruit hitting the earth, but this sound sounded out of place, made my something not of the forest.

You caught a glimpse of something blue ducking behind the trunk of a wide tree. They had been holding what looked like a bow. Neytiri!

You shut your eyes and thanked Eywa for delivering you a mother as magnificent and brave as her.

Everything was still for a while and you wondered why Neytiri hadn’t taken a shot. Had she left? In an attempt to look like you were getting drowsy, you slumped a back into the avatar holding you. Your head hit his chin as you did so. He shoved you forward again, tugging your hair as he did so.

That’s why she hadn’t taken a shot, there was too much of a risk of hitting you. You looked up to where you had seen her before and caught her eyes. She had been staring at you intently the whole time, waiting for an opening.

So you gave her one.

You hoped she understood what you tried to say in a single look.

Saying another silent prayer to Eywa, you grabbed the arm that wasn’t gripping your hair, brought it up to your mouth, and bit down as hard as you could.

The man screamed, “You little bitch!”

Thankfully, on instinct he let go of your head and you had just enough time to duck out of the way before an arrow hit him straight between the eyes.

-

Twigs and leaves crunched beneath your feet and you made a break into the forest. You didn’t dare look back behind you. Gunshots rang through the air, some even whizzed past you.

Just as you jumped over the fallen trunk of a tree, an arm caught you from the side. You fought against it, landing a blow against whoever’s face had snatched you.

They groaned and let you go.

“Be calm! It’s just me!” Spider said as he held his now bloody nose.

You gasped and reached out to touch his face. “Oh Spider, I’m so sorry. You scared me!”

He shook his head a little before standing up, offering you a hand. “It’s fine, let’s go. Lo’ak and Neteyam already left.”

You took his hand and the two of you ran through the forest together. Never daring to look back.

-

When Jake and Neytiri returned, you knew you were all in for it.

You and your siblings listened outside of their tent, listening to them argue. You held Tuk to you, you didn’t want her to hear what they were saying but she insisted, so all you could do was let her know she wasn’t alone.

Jake stormed out of the tent and you all pretended to be looking at anything else. Smooth.

“yn, get over here.” He ordered. Lo’ak patted you on the back and walked away with the others.

“That stunt you pulled!? That’s not on, okay? It was stupi-!”

You interrupted him, “What I did was stupid, but I don’t regret it. If I hadn’t, Tuk would have been in my position and I couldn’t stand by and watch that happen, sir.” Jake was silent at that. The same stern look painted across his face and his eye twitched.

You stood your ground.

He stood his. For a while.

Until he broke.

The hard look he had softened and he just looked like a tired dad. You realised how stressed he must be, knowing that an old enemy was back and would go through his family to get him. He though he had lost Neteyam earlier this week, and now his daughter? You could have sympathy for him.

You approached him and wrapped your arms around his broad chest. “I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

It felt as if his chest buckled at that and he returned your hug.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again. Alright, soldier?”

You smiled up at him and gave him a. mock salute.

“Yes, sir.”

#i can’t tell if i over wrote #sully family #avatar x reader #sullys x reader #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #neteyam x reader #lo’ak x reader #kiri x reader #spider x reader #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar imagine #sully family imagine

[nottesilhouette]

sometimes I think about palestine.

sometimes I think about oranges.

sometimes I think about oranges, the way my father lights up, golden in the sun with a smile he reserves for special occasions, like when his children succeed or when the orange trees bloom.

sometimes I think about oranges, the way its peel makes a home under my nails, sprays oil until the smell of it lingers in the air, sharp and strong and livid in its joy.

sometimes I think about oranges, the way my sister stands over the grass, juice-sticky down to her elbows, and reaches her hand out to me anyways; I take it, and her skin sticks to mine.

sometimes I think about oranges, the way my mother passes up her slice, then another, then another, building pyramids of orange triangles built to last for her children.

sometimes I think about oranges, the way the knife pushes tension against the peel like a needle on my skin, slips past and cuts and spills juice like blood over my fingertips; if they are stained then I will walk the rest of my days with hands dyed.

sometimes I think about oranges, the way seeds settle between the thin flesh of each wedge, tough and safe and full of life, a victory as it grows into what it has always been destined for, reaching for the skies even as it collapses a universe of life into a single tiny stone.

sometimes I think about oranges, the way they litter the earth under my feet, rotted from the wind and the rain but so full of kindness it spills out over the edges, ready to give every drop of their soul to the earth if it means another flower will bloom in the spring.

sometimes I think about oranges, the way my best friend split an orange in her hands and held it out to me across land we cannot cross, the way each bite settles heavy in my stomach but light in my heart.

sometimes I think about oranges, the way sweetness coats my lips and tongue and teeth for hours, clingy; the way acid drips gentle into the cuts in my skin and stings, as if to tell me, "I'm here, I'm here, I'm still alive."

sometimes I think about you.

#palestine #free palestine #palestine strike art #oranges

[lovequartz]

under wisteria blossoms

⊱ pairing: town doctor!wonwoo x reader

⊱ genre: small town, acquaintances to lovers, fluff & angst

⊱ warnings: historical inaccuracy, self-image and self-esteem issues, period-typical views (marriage/women)

⊱ word count: 7900+

⊱ tonight, i’ll send the glow of a firefly to somewhere near your window

⊱ notes: happy and somewhat relived to be able to share this, i think like aoybb this is something that i worked really hard on and tried my best with <3

The boy's skin feels warm and clammy underneath Wonwoo’s fingers. He’s glad the family called him when they did, thankfully the young boy’s condition had been better than he’d anticipated. He hangs his stethoscope back into its place over his shoulders and turns to the boy’s grandfather. 

“It’s a mild fever, he should be feeling better with a few doses of herbal tea and lots of rest,” Wonwoo pauses to pull the young boy’s shirt down and the sheet covering him, back up, “please don’t hesitate to call me if anything changes.” 

Your father walks the doctor to the door and bids him farewell with a firm handshake as well as a pat on the shoulder. As soon as the door shuts you move to change the washcloth resting on your nephew’s head.

“You could’ve greeted him properly rather than peek at him from the hallway,” your father teases. 

You shake your head as your hands busy themselves with wringing the washcloth. “He was so handsome,” you sigh, “I almost broke into a rash just staring at him.” You place the now cool fabric back into place across your nephew’s forehead, and press your moist hands against your cheeks in a futile effort to bring a chill to your warm face. Perhaps you’re the one with the fever now.

Your paths do not cross with the young and handsome doctor until sometime a week or two later. Your parents had insisted you bring him a small basket of persimmons on your morning delivery to thank him for Silas’s care, and your sister, Silas’s mother, had insisted that you bring your nephew with you.

So there you were, the pair of you, walking towards the town center to find Jeon Wonwoo’s office of practice. 

Silas squeezes your hand to get your attention and you glance toward him to let him know you’re listening. 

“Auntie,” he starts, “do you think I should become a doctor when I grow up?” 

You almost giggle but hold it in lest he thinks you’re laughing at him. His mother would probably run the streets in excitement if she’d just heard her son’s query. 

“Now why do I have a say in what you should be when you grow up? You can be whatever you want, I always tell you that.” 

His lips form a small pout before he replies; “You’re my best friend, of course you have a say.”

Tears try to fill your eyes before you will them away with a shake of your head. “Well as your best friend I say that you should be whatever makes you happy.” You tell him and lean down to quickly press a kiss to his cheek. “Now let’s hurry to Mister Jeon’s office so he can get his persimmons and you can go to afternoon classes.” 

The doctor’s office isn’t too hard to find, mostly due to the fact that there’s only one of them, and it’s fairly new to town.

As you and your nephew make your way to the entrance you notice the wisteria plants that span the awning. ‘They'll look lovely when they bloom in spring,’ you muse. 

The bell above the door chimes as the two of you enter and the young man sitting behind what you assume to be the reception desk nods in greeting. 

“Do you have an appointment?” He asks once you are closer to the desk. 

“Actually, I’m here with a delivery," you say, shyly holding up the basket, "and payment for Dr. Jeon's house visit." 

"Of course," he stands to receive the basket from you and sets it on the floor beside his chair. You watch him smooth down his dress shirt as he returns to his seat. The man then pulls open a drawer at his side and retrieves a medium sized journal, setting it in front of him and wetting his index finger to flip through its pages. 

"May I know the date the visit took place? As well as the patient's last name and address?"

You provide him with the information and watch as he skims through the cursive written on the journal's pages. 

As you converse with the man about payment you can't help but be thankful about how well behaved Silas is as you do. Although it might have been due to his fascination with the fish in a tank that sat in the waiting area, tucked next to some chairs and a table with a few newspapers, you're no less grateful. 

The two of you leave the office shortly after, your nephew a bit disappointed in not seeing Dr. Jeon, the man who has become the current subject of his admiration. 

"I'm sure we'll see him sometime soon," you say, trying to lift the boy's spirits, "it's a small town after all. Now, run along to class. Your mother will have my head if you're late again." 

Silas bids you farewell with a hug and you watch him jog down the road towards the schoolhouse, his bag swinging behind him. Unbeknownst to you that the doctor you'd been speaking about was watching it all from not too far away. 

Wonwoo is just shy of exhausted as he enters his practice. Removing his hat and tweed coat, holding onto them to hang them up in his office. 

Seungkwan stands from his chair to greet him but before he can utter a word Wonwoo lets out an almost comical sigh. 

"Please tell me I'm done with house visits for the day, I don't think I can handle another matriarch trying to convince me to marry their daughter." 

"You'll be happy to note that all the patients left today are mostly general check-ups." Seungkwan replies with a look of amusement. "Oh and before I forget the daughter of the persimmon farm came by with a basket for you and also took care of their bill for the visit two weeks ago," he continues. 

"I thought I caught a glimpse of her outside. Thank you, Seungkwan, I'll be in my office if you need me." 

Wonwoo closes his office door behind him as he enters, hanging up his hat and jacket on the coat rack to his immediate left. The basket of persimmons sits in the middle of his desk, covered with a cloth that had to have been hand-sewn. It's cream colored with a bouquet of embroidered flowers in the corner, beautiful work. It's a shame he can't enjoy the sweet fruit that lies beneath, work comes first. 

The bookstore's wood stairs creak as you ascend and in turn the bell hanging above the door chimes as you enter. Delight flashes across your face as you lock eyes with the girl who sits behind the counter. She returns your joy earnestly with a small smile and a wave of her hand. 

"You seem to be awfully chipper this afternoon." Jisun notes as you lean against the counter. 

"Maybe because I have it all to myself," You reply, with a smile. 

"I thought you had deliveries to do today?" She asks, confused. 

"Well, I did have one delivery today, to Dr. Jeon's office. My father said if I made that delivery and sent Silas off to classes I could take the afternoon off. I might have to do some this evening though."

At the mention of the doctor's name your friend gives you a coy look, which you ignore. 

Jisun and you fall into easy conversation between the calm buzz of the bookstore and her helping whatever customer needs it. You move to sit beside her behind the counter, to free up space. She tells you all about the planning being done by her mother for her upcoming wedding. Her engagement to the eldest son of the town's pottering family, Kim Doyoung, happened sometime this past winter. Jisun was over the moon when he had asked for her hand; you remember her crush on him from your school days. He was set to take over the family business in two to three years due to his father's declining health. 

"I'm thinking late summer or next autumn, because of the weather. My mother wants it to happen as early as possible, but Doyoung and I are okay with waiting a bit longer. His mother is fine with whatever I decide, she's truly wonderful." 

"I'm sure everything will work out. I just can't wait to atten– your response is cut off by the bell above the door chiming to announce a customer, your and Jisun's eyes snapping to the door. 

To your utter horror, Jeon Wonwoo enters the bookstore. 

You duck behind the counter quickly, praying he hasn't seen you yet and clutching your headscarf so it obscures your face better. 

Jisun gives you a confused look but you wordlessly plead for her to act normal, breathing a sigh of relief when she turns to greet the doctor. 

"Welcome, Dr. Jeon! I wasn't expecting you today."

You're glad Jisun is a better actress than she seems. 

Wonwoo returns her greeting and asks about the store. To which Jisun replies; "It's been fine, not too busy and not too slow." 

"How's Doyoung's father? I understand he's been taking his medicine diligently, but I haven't got around to seeing him yet as I was in the office all afternoon." 

She offers the doctor a smile, "He's doing much better, thankfully. We're all really grateful to you, Dr. Jeon." 

"Please, call me Wonwoo, I prefer to be 'Dr. Jeon' during work hours." 

Jisun smiles, "Of course."

Your squatting position soon becomes uncomfortable but you'd rather die than show yourself now, so you continue to listen to the two converse. 

"And the wedding? I know you've been planning." 

"Well, nothing is set in stone yet, but Doyoung and I are thinking perhaps late summer or even early autumn. Fret not, you and Seungkwan absolutely have a place on the guest list." 

"Looking forward to it then. Sorry to take up so much time with small talk, your father has a medical textbook saved for me. I told him I would be by this morning but I was a bit too busy." 

"I see, it's likely in his study then. I'll be just a minute!" She replies before turning around to the back of the bookstore, shooting you a wary glance before she disappears. 

You hear Wonwoo hum quietly to himself as he waits, and you silently pray for Jisun to make haste. Your legs are burning, not only from the weight of your body but also mostly due to the weight of your deceit. No matter, you cannot possibly let Jeon Wonwoo see you. 

"Here it is!" Jisun announces cheerfully as she returns, holding up the thick book with two hands and a sense of pride. 

"Thank you, Jisun. How much do I owe?" 

Jisun calculates the total along with a hefty discount sparing no room for argument, before wrapping the book up and handing it to the doctor. 

"You take care now Wonwoo! I'm sure I'll see you soon." Jisun says as she bids him farewell. 

You breathe a sigh of relief at the bell chiming, and the sound of the door closing. Grabbing onto the counter you hoist yourself back to standing much to the torment of your legs. 

"What was that about?" Jisun asks with a confused look as you wince and massage your knees. 

You open your mouth to respond but Jisun continues; "Don't you dare say 'nothing'." 

"I don't want him to see me." You admit, looking at your feet. 

"Why not?" She seems incredulous at your confession, "Is it because of your scar?" 

Your hand instinctively reaches to touch the long scar that runs through your left eye and down your cheek. The scar that "marred" you, the one that made people look twice, the only thing that prevents you from finding love. 

You sigh before giving Jisun a hollow smile, "I have to fetch Silas soon. I'll tell you more later." 

And with that you wave to Jisun and make your exit. 

The reminder of your scar brings awful memories back to the surface of your mind, and they are all you can think about as you walk to the schoolhouse.

Early Summer (Two Years Prior)

"Darling, is your sister ready? The Baes will be here any moment!" 

Your sister hurriedly pulls the curlers from your hair, and runs a brush through them. "Give us forty seconds Mama!" She looks you over in the mirror before giving you a reassuring smile, rushing to pick up the discarded curlers. 

"You look beautiful! Now go see Mama, quickly!" 

You meet your mother in the kitchen and she gives you a once over before kissing your cheek. "My lovely girl." 

Your mother instructs you on when to join them at the table after the Baes arrive and to bring the persimmons she's already cut with you. Figuring you still have time, you move to your sister's room where your nephew is playing. 

"Hi Silas." You say softly as you find a seat next to the boy. 

"Hi Auntie, what happened to your special meeting?" He asks with a tilt of his head. 

"The special people aren't here yet so I came to say hi one more time." You reply, pushing his hair out of his face, it was getting so long. 

You and your nephew chat for a bit more until the commotion from the front of the house draws away your attention; the Baes have arrived. 

The Baes were a modest family, a mom, a dad and two children, one boy and one girl. They owned the town jewelers, and were surprisingly well known. Bae Giwoong, the head of the family, was skilled with his hands, creating beautiful pieces that complimented anyone. Paired with a wife that had vast knowledge on jewels and precious stones, they had done quite well for themselves.

Hyunsik, the son, had come in earnest with his family to potentially ask for your hand. You were quite nervous, but seeing as your sister had married almost four years prior and had Silas, it was only natural that you were thinking about marriage as well. 

The meeting was dragging on. You had presented the persimmons just as your mother had instructed, before taking your seat at her side, across from Hyunsik who you offered a polite but reserved smile. He did not return it, only glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the conversation between your father and his. 

Soon, the chatter dwindled and the Baes announced their leave. Your father convinced Mr. Bae to have a cigar with him just outside the house before they departed. You busied yourself with clearing the table of the used forks and now empty cups of tea your mother had prepared.

After your tidying, you swiftly move through the house to the window at the front of it, intent on eavesdropping. 

Peering out you see the son and father chatting amongst themselves, your father probably in his study to fetch the cigar he promised Mr. Bae. Leaning closer to the ledge you're able to hear the two as they converse. 

"They're a good family, what do you think of her?" Mr. Bae asks. 

"They seem to be," Hyunsik agrees, "She's adequate, I suppose. If only she didn't have that unsightly scar," he continues. 

Your heart drops into your stomach at his words, as your hand unconsciously reaches to the scar. 

His father mulls over his words with a hum before replying; "You'd have to keep her under lock and key, the poor girl's mangled." 

The dread in your stomach hardens and you want nothing more than to stop hearing these harsh words, but you are frozen in place. 

Hyunsik nods in agreement, "It's really a shame. I'd be able to overlook it if it were anywhere else, I just can't imagine waking up to that face every morning."

You feel the tears before you register that you're crying, and the sensation is enough to knock you back to consciousness. You stand hurriedly and make your way to your room before anyone can see you in this pathetic state. 

 You pretend. In the day you are just yourself, getting errands done and living day to day. You pretend to agree, when your mother tells you that Bae Hyunsik would not be asking for your hand due to the fact that he believes you two wouldn't be compatible. At night you are inconsolable, crying into your pillow until your tears eventually put you to sleep. 

Silas senses a shift in your mood, but as a three year old he only does what he can. Seeking attention whenever you're sitting idle, laying his head on your lap while you stroke his hair. His little hands playing with your free one. 

Eventually, you learn to move on. As does Hyunsik when he marries the eldest daughter of Lee's dairy farm. 

His words, however, will stay with you forever. 

Drawn out of your memories by the clanging of the schoolhouse bell you quicken your pace, keeping eyes out for your nephew. He appears within a few moments, his own eyes searching for you. You wave to him when he finally finds you. 

"How were classes?" You ask as the boy bounds up to you, reaching to smooth his unruly hair. 

"Good!” He chirps, before launching into detail about his afternoon. Keeping the two of you entertained as you follow the road home. 

The days that follow glide by until eventually they all bleed into a week, a week since you’ve seen the young doctor. Your deliveries go as well as can be expected, though they have been slowing down, and your father is busy preparing the year’s saplings. Silas has gone off to visit his paternal grandparents who live a few towns away, your sister going along despite her relationship of apathy with her in-laws. She did say something about Henry’s younger brother finishing his woodworking apprenticeship so she was expected to be present. 

You find yourself bored without your small friend but find time to chat with Jisun every now and again. Miraculously you haven’t run into Wonwoo at all, though you’ve caught glimpses from afar and he has not gotten any less handsome. 

At dusk your mother finds you with a basket in her hands. 

"Did I forget a delivery?" You question eyes falling to the vermillion fruit. 

"No dear, your father is out with the trees still and it slipped my mind that I had promised Mrs. Lee these. You know her youngest just got engaged," She explains. 

"Ah right I had forgotten. I'll take care of it," you reply, taking the basket from your mother's hands and pressing a reassuring kiss to her cheek. 

The walk to the Lee home is not long, but it is closer to the town than to your own home. You greet the few townspeople you come across on the way, offering them small smiles and polite nods. 

The greetings have you in a good mood so you have a little more pep in your step as you bound up the Lee family's porch, curling your fingers around the knocker when you make it to the door. 

"Coming!" You hear a girlish voice say, followed by the sounds of the door unlocking. 

With a slight tug of the door inwards you come face to face with Lee Daeun, the eldest Lee sister, one hand laid on the wood while the other cradles her very pregnant stomach. The polite smile on her face slips when her eyes flash with recognition. 

"I had assumed your mother would be dropping by, not…..you." 

You offer a shrug, "Mother sent me instead, sorry to disappoint." You reply jokingly, trying to ease the tension. 

Daeun doesn't respond right away, choosing to study you for a few moments. The silence becomes awkward quickly so you try your best to remedy it. 

"Congratulations to your sister, what a joyous occasion for her. And to yourself, I didn't know you were with child." You say with a warm smile, probably the most genuine thing the two of you had exchanged thus far. 

You hold out the basket to her, which she takes sliding it up her arm so it rests in the crook of her elbow.

"Yes, well, our family is quite satisfied with her fiancé. He's the son of an artisan, and they live a few towns eastward." Both her hands now rest on her stomach, "As for this one, it's only been a few months. Hyunsik is over the moon, and Momma insists on keeping me inside for the time being, so I don't get out much." Daeun's eyes seize you once more before she continues; "And yourself? I know your family has been searching for suitors, any success?" 

She may as well have doused you in cold water with the way her tone becomes icy. 

"Unfortunately not. I'm not too worried though, I know finding a suitable bachelor can take some time and I'm nothing if not patient." 

A scoff escapes her at your reply. "Worried? I feel you should be rather embarrassed. My youngest sister, a girl who we both watched play with mud when we were all children, is now engaged. Meanwhile you continue to age with no partner to call yours, as well as toting around your poor nephew pretending he's your own. I think it's time you face reality, nobody wants a scarred wife no matter how pretty she is." 

You are stunned into silence, fists clenched and nails biting into the skin of your palms. Every cell in your body fighting the urge to cry at the venom Daeun had spat at you for seemingly no reason at all. 

"Give your parents our family's thanks." Is the last thing she says before shutting the door in your face. 

You stare at the door for a few moments, tears starting to blur your vision, before you turn and hurry away from the Lee's home. 

Hot tears are blurring your vision as you head in the direction opposite your house. You want to find somewhere quiet to cry your eyes out before heading back to your residence and pretending everything is fine and dandy. 

Reaching closer to town, you stumble across the fountain just behind the main street, tucked between a few trees. A veranda shielding it from the setting sun with vines of wisteria weaved through its wood. The flowers are nowhere in sight as their blooming season is still a ways off. You, however, are too busy crying to care much about wisteria.

Shakily you manage to sit at the fountain's edge before your body is wracked with your sobs. Fingers fumble to pull the knot of your scarf resting against your chin loose, and once the fabric comes free you bury your face in it, your tears never once stopping. 

You don't know how long you sit there crying, removing your face from your tear stained head scarf every so often to breathe. 

A soft voice is the thing that finally brings you back to reality, and there before you with worry etched into his wrinkled brow is Jeon Wonwoo. 

Your mind blanks at the sight of him, and it feels as if someone has stuffed cotton in your ears as Wonwoo's lips move but you cannot hear a word he utters. His concerned frown deepens as he gets no response from you, leaning closer. It's as if all the blood in your body rushes to your head and you feel yourself falling backwards as if someone had grabbed onto the back of your dress and yanked. 

Wonwoo cries in surprise as he watches you fall towards the water, arms reaching out to grab you. The sound kicks your brain into gear, it's too late to stop your descent but you throw your hands back to catch yourself. A loud splash echoes through the small area before you are engulfed in the sensation of cold water drenching your skin and clothes. Wonwoo as he lunged to grab you had also met with the fountain water, his hands and forearms submerged, and his body leaning over top of yours. 

Silence buzzes between the two of you as the only thing you can do is stare at each other. It's only then do you truly realize the situation that you've found yourself in. Wonwoo's face is mere inches from your own and the only thing you can think is how much more handsome he looks up close. His strong jaw, sharp nose, and the flecks of honey that swim in the brown of his irises. 

You notice him studying your own face, and as his eyes drift over to the left you remember why you were crying in the first place. Your hand snaps up to cover your scar and this is what seems to break the trance between you and the doctor. Wonwoo can feel the blood rushing to his ears as he scrambles back to his feet, bowing his head and offering apology after apology.

 When you don't respond his eyes meet yours, and he notices you have not made any attempt to remove yourself from the fountain. Your green dress is bunched up over your knees, the fabric now dark due to the water, and your patterned head scarf still gripped in hand. 

Wonwoo's face still feels like it has been set ablaze but he offers you both of his hands, "May I?" 

You nod shakily before he leans over and your hands reach up to grasp his own. He pulls you firmly, but not yanking, and even lets one of your hands go to loop an arm around your waist for a more secure hold. 

You notice how firm his body feels against yours and how much taller he is than you'd thought now that you're practically pressed together. Heat rushes to your cheeks. 

Wonwoo slowly removes his arm from your waist and his hand from yours, taking half a step back to give you some (much needed) space. 

"Are you alright? I feel awful about startling you, but I heard the crying and wanted to know if you were okay." 

"I'm fine," you reply, voice small, "my apologies for getting you wet." 

The doctor's lips twitch and you feel perhaps he wants to laugh at you. You wouldn't fault him, you are soaked to the bone, rivulets of water running down your legs beneath your dress. 

"Water under the bridge." 

You almost giggle at that, but duck your head down and compose yourself quickly. 

Wonwoo continues; "Would you mind walking with me to my practice? I live right above it, and would feel better if I could get you into something dry before escorting you home. I know you live a bit out of town." 

Before you can respond Wonwoo must have realized how he sounded. 

"I know because you left me the persimmons and I treated the young boy, though I didn't see you there. I have seen you around town with him though, just briefly of course, completely coincidentally. I don't go out of my way to catch a glimpse of you here and there. I promise, I'm not a strange person." Wonwoo rambles in an attempt to clear the air, though you're not sure it needed clearing in the first place. 

The space above Wonwoo’s office is quaint, what it lacks in size it makes up for in homey-ness. Books piled neatly from where they spill out of the bookshelf, a warm armchair nestled right beside it. A dining table with one chair, both a dark cherrywood, sits against the wall adjacent to the small kitchenette. There’s a small wood-burning stove that looks well loved. Everything in the space feels very Wonwoo to you. 

Speaking of, you can hear him rustling through the drawers in the other room. He ushered you in despite your protests, not wanting to drip all over his home. Once inside he disappeared for a moment, reappearing with a towel clutched in his hand, and then layed it across the floor in front of you. “Since you feel so strongly about not getting my floor wet,” he’d said, before disappearing once more. 

You fiddle with your fingers, still drenched to the bone, as your clothes drip drip drip onto the towel. 

Finally, Wonwoo exits the room, pulling the door closed behind him with a bundle of clothes tucked safely in his other arm. 

“I’m sure they won’t fit like a glove, but you’re likely grateful for dry clothes either way.” His tone is a bit teasing, and you can only nod in response with your ears feeling hot. 

“The bathroom is just opposite of my room,” He says, passing over the clothes to your hands, “take your time. It’s just about dark so I’ll be sure to walk you home. You can call your parents, or husband, when you’re dressed. I have a phone.” He continues. 

The ‘husband’ comment makes you bristle but you decide to clear the air with Wonwoo at a later time, desperately wanting to get out of this wet dress.

“Thank you,” you reply softly, and turn to scurry into the safety of the bathroom. 

You get dressed quickly, not bothering with your undergarments. You’d rather have wet undergarments than be bare underneath clothes that don’t even belong to you, the thought flushes your whole body with heat. 

Wonwoo directs you to the phone, it rests on a side table next to the armchair,  and you dial your house phone with urgency, despite the slowness of the crank dial. The line rings for a few moments, and as you hear the other line click “Mother?” tumbles from your lips. 

Your mother says your name with surprise, “Darling where are you? Are you still at the Lees’?” 

“No, something happened on the way home. But I’m with Doctor Jeon, you know Doctor Jeon? He treated Silas when he had that god-awful fever. Well, he helped me out, so I’m fine. He insisted I call you before he accompanied me home, so I was just letting you know Momma.” 

You listen to your mother talk for a bit more before you bid her goodbye, her voice ringing out a “Be safe on your way home!” before you set the receiver down. 

“Thank you for letting me use your phone, and for the clothes,” you say to Wonwoo, who sits across the room from you in that dining table chair. 

“Of course,” he replies, “now let's get you home.” 

The small talk as the two of you walk the path to your family home is pleasant enough. You find that Wonwoo has somewhat of an eclectic sense of humor, and he’s quite witty despite the seriousness of his profession. In no time your home is visible, and you feel a tinge of disappointment at its sight. 

“Well, I suppose this is where we part,” Wonwoo sighs as the two of you stand in front of the gate of your home. 

“I suppose,” you echo.

A long pause ebbs between you both as you gaze at each other.

Suddenly you feel a jolt go through you as you have a realization. You’d forgotten your dress on the floor of his bathroom. 

“My dress,” you say bashfully, “I left it in your bathroom.” 

“That’s okay, I’ll get it washed for you. You can come by the office in the next few days, I’ll have it nice and clean.” He assures you with a soft smile. 

“Thank you,” you reply. 

Before you can turn to leave Wonwoo continues; “I haven’t seen your boy around, Silas was it? How’s he fairing these days?” 

You offer the doctor a tight lipped smile, “His father took him to visit family a few towns over.” You think you have to clear this misunderstanding up before it's too late. 

“Also, he’s not mine. Silas, I mean, he’s my sister’s son. I’m not married, I’ve never been.” 

“I see,” Wonwoo replies, and you feel you may have offended him somehow at his tone but he continues; “That’s good then, I felt I may have been acting inappropriately towards you. Thinking you were married and all.” 

“I didn’t think you were acting inappropriately at all.” 

“That brings me relief. Then you won’t think me telling you how lovely I think you look would be inappropriate either? Considering you’re unmarried.” 

You feel your ears are deceiving you, because surely Jeon Wonwoo didn’t just say he thinks you look lovely. But as you gaze at his face, a handsome smirk paints his lips, perhaps your ears work just fine. 

It seems your mother has never had a more perfect sense of timing as she swings the front door open shouting your name. 

You tear your gaze away from Wonwoo to call back to her; “I’m here! No need to shout.” 

You hear her footsteps as she makes her way to the gate, shooting Wonwoo an apologetic glance. He offers a soft smile in response. 

It isn’t long before you hear the rattling of the gate lock and your mother’s voice again “Honey, what are you doing loitering around outside…“ Her words trail off as she takes in Wonwoo standing across from you. Her gaze flits between the two of you, pausing at your state of dress; a linen shirt and black trousers that were a few sizes too big. Despite her obvious shock your mother paints on a lovely smile and bows her head in greeting to the doctor. 

“Oh my, Doctor Jeon, I had forgotten you’d be accompanying her home! Thank you for helping my daughter out, you’re quite the gentleman.” 

You shoot your mother an incredulous look, not wanting her to embarrass you further than you yourself already have. She ignores you, of course. 

Wonwoo bows his head with a smile, “Not at all. It was my pleasure, your daughter has quite the interesting personality.” 

“Doesn’t she? We have no idea where she gets it from, there’s no one like her in the family.” 

You assume your mother is trying to rope Wonwoo into having something to eat by the glint in her eye so you jump in. 

“I’m sure Wonwoo would like to head home, Momma. He has a bit of a walk back into town.” 

“Do you?” She turns to him, “We’d hate to keep you.” 

“I have some time,” Wonwoo assures her, “there’s no one waiting for me at home.” 

You can’t help but feel betrayed by Wonwoo’s choice to indulge your mother. 

“Really? Have you eaten? Let me pack some food for you to take!” 

And before any of you can say anything, your mother has Wonwoo’s wrist in her grip gently leading him through the front gate and to your house. 

You run a hand down your face before following. 

Your mother leads Wonwoo through the house, through the living room, to have him sit on the ledge just outside the living room doors that open up to the garden. 

“Now you wait right here,” your mother tells him, “I’ll have my daughter fetch you a drink while I pack up something for you!” 

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replies. 

She eyes you meaningfully before grabbing your arm to drag you to the kitchen. 

“There’s some cold yuzu tea in the fridge, take him a glass please.” She sets a medium sized cup onto a saucer, and you recognize it as a part of the china set your family typically uses for important guests. It’s white with some foliage painted on the side. 

You follow your mother’s command as she busies herself with packing side dishes, reaching past her into the fridge where the pot of yuzu tea sits. 

After pouring a cup you garnish it with a rosemary sprig you pluck from the plant sitting on the kitchen’s windowsill. You're careful not to spill as you make your way to where Wonwoo waits, your pace slow. 

He gives you a kind smile as you set the cup and saucer in front of him, thanking you in a soft voice. 

“Your mother made this?” He asks, after having a sip. The tea is quite refreshing, and it's probably one of the best yuzu teas he’s ever had. 

You shake your head. “I made the pot this time, usually whoever finds it running low makes it, between me and her of course. My older sister can’t brew tea to save her life, she takes after father.” 

“Well, it’s delicious. I suppose you’re quite the master when it comes to brewing tea.” 

You shake your head again, bashfully. You feel small under Wonwoo's fond gaze, not sure what is the appropriate way to act when he's showing you such kindness. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, with Wonwoo sipping at his tea and you trying to discreetly study his face. You know you've thought this before but he really is quite handsome. 

"The garden is beautiful, I don't think I've seen one built in the middle of a home like this before." 

"My great-grandfather built this house," you reply, moving so your body is parallel with Wonwoo's, both of you facing the open space. "He traveled a bit with my great-grandmother and when they built this house they took inspiration from some of the homes they stayed in on their travels." 

"I see." He replies, setting his now empty cup down, his knuckles brushing the side of your hand as he does so. 

You pull your hand away, as if burned, and heat flushes your body. 

Wonwoo doesn't comment on this thankfully but you think you see the edge of his lips twitch. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting!" Your mother's voice rings out. Walking to where you and Wonwoo sit with the containers of food wrapped up in an orange cloth. She sets it between you and Wonwoo as she kneels.

"I don't know what you like, so I added a bit of everything! I snuck in a couple of persimmons as well, we have more than enough." 

"Thank you kindly," Wonwoo says sweetly, giving your mother a smile. 

"It's no trouble dear! And don't worry about the containers, I'll have this one fetch them from you whenever." She says, motioning to you. 

"Well, thank you again. I should be getting on my way now, I've overstayed my welcome it seems." 

"Oh not at all!" Your mother pats his arm, "We're always happy to have you Doctor Jeon. My daughter will see you out, don't be a stranger now!" 

Wonwoo gathers the cloth in his fist, and the cup and saucer in his free hand. You take the china, passing it to your mother before leading Wonwoo back towards the entrance of your home. 

Soon you are in the exact same setting you were when you had arrived; you and Wonwoo standing across from each other at the gate. 

"My apologies for my mother, she's the type to flit around even if you tell her to sit still." 

"Not at all. She's quite the character, but I can tell she's also immensely kind. I now know where you get it from." The smile on Wonwoo's lips is teasing and you think about how nice it is to have someone compliment you. 

After a few more short moments of small talk you urge the doctor to be on his way. The sun had already sunk low behind the horizon and the path back to town settled in darkness. You hurry to grab him a lantern, just to help him light his way home, as the roads would absolutely be dark until about halfway into town. 

Wonwoo promises to make it home safely, and he watches you enter your house before turning and making his way to his own. 

Later that night you lay awake, palm pressed to your racing heart, replaying the moment Wonwoo called you lovely over and over again in your mind.

The next few days are spent with you staying busy, too busy even to go see Wonwoo for your dress. Pruning the persimmon trees and overall maintenance of the farm are the allotted tasks that fall to you. The workload is a bit heavy due to your sister and her family’s absence. 

You’ve taken to sleeping in Wonwoo’s linen shirt, his pants have been washed and folded, but perhaps selfishly, you can't bring yourself to part from his shirt. It smells like him, petrichor with a light musk and the hint of something floral. It's intoxicating and the scent lulls you to sleep better than any tea you’ve ever had. 

Sadly, you aren’t meant to hold on to the young doctor’s clothes forever. You have your mother wash the shirt, and find a bag to put Wonwoo’s clean clothes in so they can be returned to him. You intend to slip out quickly, but when your mother catches wind of your plans she rushes off to grab a few persimmons to send with you. 

“Please, he’ll be sick of persimmons at this rate,” you whine. 

She ignores your concern, slipping the wrapped fruits into your hand. “Nonsense! Nobody can be sick of persimmons,” she argues. 

Soon, you are on your way to the doctor’s office. Unfortunately, with the persimmons in tow. The walk to town is pleasant enough, and you get a sense of tranquility with nobody else on the path except for yourself and the occasional woodland creature that makes an appearance. 

You made a point to doll yourself up just a bit, wanting to leave Wonwoo with a better impression of yourself than last time. You don’t have high hopes, but perhaps just a hope that Wonwoo holds any feelings other than cordiality towards you. Your dress today is a dusty pink, and you’d found your sister’s rouge and applied a smidge to your cheeks and lips. 

The air is somewhat brisk, as it usually is in early fall, but the chill still makes you shiver slightly. Red and yellow tipped leaves sway in the crisp wind, it is undoubtedly autumn. Soon enough you are at the entrance of town, face burning with embarrassment as you catch a glance of the fountain, remembering the events that transpired there. 

Your pace quickens. 

As you come upon Wonwoo’s practice, you are surprised to see him waiting outside. Giving you a small smile and a wave when he notices you. 

“Good Morning,” he greets you with a honeyed voice.

“Morning,” is your soft reply, “do you always mill about outside this early?” 

This makes the doctor chuckle. “No, not usually. I saw you coming up the path from my window, so I figured it was only right that I came to greet you.” 

“Oh,” you try to fight the heat blooming on your cheeks, “I have your clothes, freshly laundered. Mother thought it pertinent to slip in a few persimmons even though I told her you’re probably sick of them by now.” 

The smile has not left his lips yet, and he reaches out to take the bag from your hand, fingers brushing against your own. “I could never be sick of persimmons,” he replies, “after all, everytime I have one I think of you.” 

The heat rushes back tenfold, you are beyond flustered and you think Wonwoo notices because of the way his lips quirk up. You feel your brain has been fried at just those few words and you struggle to form a reply.  Thankfully, Wonwoo takes pity on you, despite being the cause of your non-functioning state. 

“Your dress is upstairs,” he tells you, “I didn’t want it to get wrinkled so I hung it up as best I could. If you’d like, we could go upstairs and retrieve it or I can always bring it down to you.” 

“We can go upstairs,” your voice small as you reply, your heart fluttering shamelessly in your chest at the thought of being in Wonwoo’s cozy home once more.

The fluttering of your heart does not stop even as the two of you climb the steps.

You get a lovely sense of warmth when the two of you enter, and you look at the wood stove still kindling. Wonwoo guides you to sit in his armchair, disappearing to the area his kitchenette is. You watch him grab a resting teapot and pour whatever resides within it into a mug. The mug is then wordless placed in your hands, and you murmur a soft “thank you”. 

“Apple blackberry tea,” he explains, “I thought you might need some warming up from the chill.” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” you reply softly, “thank you.”

A small smile twitches at Wonwoo’s lips as he watches you cradle the mug and bring it to your lips to taste the tea. “Your dress is in the other room, give me a moment.”

You nod, taking another slow sip of the delicious tea. Both fruits pair surprisingly well, and it seems to be the perfect blend for a crisp autumn day. 

Wonwoo returns, your dress folded meticulously and resting in his hands. Despite how well worn it is it looks almost brand new, testament to his care of it.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go to all the trouble!” You stand to take the dress from Wonwoo’s hand, fondness swimming in your chest.

The man just shakes his head, “It was no trouble. It's something that belongs to you so I wanted to make sure it returned to you in an adequate condition.” 

You press the garment to your chest, your eyes meeting his. You try to think of what to say to convey your gratitude but nothing seems good enough. 

It's almost as if Wonwoo turns bashful under your gaze as he rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t intend to keep you longer, I would accompany you back to your home but unfortunately I have a few patients to see this morning.”

You snap back to reality at this, “Oh! Don’t apologize please, you’ve done more than enough for me, Wonwoo. I can make my way home no problem. Thank you again, for everything.” You give him a nod, walking past him to the door. However, before you can turn the knob you feel a hand at the crook of your arm, pulling you gently to a halt. 

Glancing behind yourself, you see that Wonwoo has stopped you. An emotion you can’t quite place swims within his eyes, and it just adds to your confusion. 

“Wonwoo..?” You say slowly, when neither of you has spoken for a stretch of moments. 

He uses his delicate grip on you to turn your body so you two face each other once more, and the hand on your arm raises slowly to hold your cheek. Suddenly, his thumb is rubbing against your scar gently. He whispers your name and you feel as if you’ve been caught in a trance, you can’t speak, move, or think. All you can do is breathe and feel Wonwoo’s touch. 

His eyes trace the lines of your face, before they find yours. “From this moment onwards, I intend to court you. If you’ll have me.”

His words stun you, a moment of silence passing between the two of you before it is broken by your mouth, moving faster than your mind can. “Yes, I’ll have you. Of course I will,” You say breathily. 

A smile tugs on Wonwoo’s lips and then he is leaning down to brush his lips over your scar, his hand falling from your cheek and finding your own. 

⊱ notes: as always thank you for reading! it really was a pleasure to write this doctor wonu is very dear to me <3333

#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #bee.pollen #fic.

[readychilledwine]

Lost Bonds pt 3

Summary - After the second war, an unexpected bond with Y/n Archeron, and repairing all he's lost, Tamlin is shocked with news from the very female Rhys has been protecting from him.

Warnings- alcohol use, implied affair,implied smut, sex magic/sex pollen

A/n- Everything will be explained to y/n and wrapped in a mostly pretty bow in Part 4 on Tuesday 💚

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 4

Tamlin sat in silence, nursing hard alcohol as Rhys reappeared before him hours later. “It explains a lot,” Rhysand said softly as he sat. Tamlin pushed the Winter Court Scotch Rhysand's way. “I swear we didn't know, Tamlin.”

“So Feyre admitted it?” Rhys nodded, staring into the bonfire Tamlin had going. “She's not truly happy anymore, Rhys.”

“We know. She hasn't been happy since she watched Cassian and Nesta fall in love and their mating bond grow, then Lucien and Elain, then Amren and Varian, Eris and his wife. Mor and Emerie.” The High Lord threw back a heavy drink. “Then Azriel found his mate. And now she feels like she's an obstacle to his happiness, he feels she's a burden but refuses to let her go. He wants both."

Tamlin hummed, ignoring the flaring anger at the idea of his mate being treated like a second choice, like a burden. “How did she end up in Spring?”

Rhys sighed and looked down. “She wanted to get away from Azriel. They had gotten into a fight while he was training her. She wanted to go somewhere she'd be loved and safe unconditionally.”

Rhys paused, eyes locked on the stars. “It's funny, you know, Feyre painted their dresser drawers to fit their personalities and they've predicted their mates too.” He drank heavily again, eyes watering slightly. “Feyre painted the night sky on hers and became the stars eternal. Nesta's was bathed in flames so red the closest match we could find to recreate the dresser was Cassian's siphons, and we watched that scene during the war with that so called God, silver flames blazing and reflecting the red of my brother's armor. Elain's danced with sunlight and flowers. Her and Lucien the heir of the fucking Day Court,” Tamlin couldn't help the laugh that came with that sentence, nor could Rhys. “They live in Helion's largest garden in a cabin.”

“And y/n?” 

“A raging storm and blooming trees.” 

“And yet you all keep her there. Where she isn't destined by the Mother to be and where she is screaming for freedom.”

“Feyre isn't prepared to forgive nor forget.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes, purposely pushing every moment he had done something to make up for what he had done into Rhysand's mind. “I believe I have more than atoned for my sins against the female that started this all on a lie. The female who ended my curse should have been my mate, Rhys. That's why I fought so hard. Why I protected her even if my methods were ideas from my father and blind trauma. Did you not explain that to her?"

Rhys avoided answering, torn between the part of him that knew Tamlin was correct and the mating bond screaming to protect and defend inside of him. “I'll start sending her to you as an emissary. If the bond snaps on her end, we go from there. And Tamlin,” the High lord took his former friend's chin into his face. “Be grateful. Be grateful you didn't hear y/n's neck snap, that you didn't watch her be tortured for 3 months. That-”

“I watched the woman I loved go through all of that. Then I watched my mate be forced into an ancient world creating pot because i trusted the wrong female,” Tamlin took back the Scotch, drinking enough to burn his throat. “I think we understand each other more than you are willing to believe.”

Rhys nodded, looking away. “Y/n likes her bed made with 3 blankets so she can sleep with the window open at all times. She thinks white flowers are the prettiest. She likes chocolate way too much for a normal person.” 

Rhysand's jaw tightened before he continued. “Do you remember how my sister use to scrunch her nose really hard when she was thinking?” 

Tamlin chuckled softly into his hand, picturing her little face so clearly. “Y/n does the same thing.” It was a quiet confession, one that could have came with an apology, but the two of them has accepted the words “I'm sorry” would never be passed between them many years ago. 

“So you've kept her from me because she reminds you of Stella?” Rhys just nodded before winnowing away. 

Tamlin felt his lip twitch when you first appeared two months later. Rhys was either stupid, or fatherhood had made the male forget to look at a calendar. You were here for a 3 day weekend visit to discuss trade between Spring and the Night Court. 

A 3 day weekend that fell on Calanmai. Tamlin was shaking as he led you to the chambers he had built just for you. Chambers his Lady would reside in when or if they were choosing to sleep in separate beds. 

He realized he would have to keep you in the manor tonight, but excluding a guest from a court's most important holiday was considered a major offense. He thought about calling for Rhys, calling to remind him what today was, but he knew, at least he thought he did, that you would stay inside. It had worked with Feyre, after all. He had stopped searching for her when she wasn't easy to get to. Surely it would be the same for you. The magic would switch and call to another. He'd be able to ignore the scent of lilac, gooseberry, and fresh parchment.

He pushed open the door and watched your face with a deep breath held in his chest. “Tamlin, this room is too nice. This is clearly meant for someone with high standing. It's across from yours, I can't-”

“These are guest quarters for a high-ranking guest,” the lie came so smoothly. “You are a high-ranking guest. Get settled. I'll have a handmaid come get you for tea.” He shut the door behind you, going back to preparations and letting the kitchen know he needed tea made. 

Your guest room was fit for a queen, not a guest. A large walk-in closet sat willed with dresses, an island in the middle with drawers for jewelry. A standing mirror with ornate patterns of florals and vines sat unused, untouched. The bed was massive, possibly larger than the one you shared with Azriel, and it had soft satin sage green sheets, a fur throwing blanket lining the foot. 4 posts came off the bed, a light cream colored fabric and curtains creating a canopy and optional privacy. A vanity sat, empty and waiting for its lady to fill it with oils and lotions. 

He had clearly put you in a Lady's quarters. A safe place for her to be away from her husband. Something you had asked Azriel for since his bond with Gwyn snapped, and you two had begun drifting apart. Something he continued to deny you as tensions grew between you two.

You entered the door opposite of the closet and felt your heart begin to dance. The bathroom was stunning. White and grey marbled floors, a sunk in tub large enough for two, accents of that same soft green and gold. It was what the tub overlooked that made your heart truly flutter, though. It overlooked a garden and the forest. Elain would have killed for this view, but instead, you sat on the ground, crossing your legs, and you took it all into yourself. Hogging the moment and soaking in it.

Nightfall came quickly, and Tamlin had warned you of what would come. You had made the choice to stay inside even though a pang of jealousy reared its ugly head.

You had no claim to him. No ownership over his body, his choices. It didn't change the emotion, though, as you laid your hands over the edge of that tub and watched fire make shadows dance across the leaves. 

He had warned you that you may feel tugging, a pull urging you to come outside. He had asked that you ignore it, and Cauldron, you were trying. You were ignoring that growing warmth in your stomach, the haze setting into your mind. You tried to focus on thoughts of the fight you and Azriel would finish when you got home. Of the way you would crawl into a separate bed from your husband as soon as he fell asleep, still smelling like Gwyn. You tried to focus your thoughts on your marriage and how it was slowly crumbling below you after his actions. 

But those tugs were growing stronger, aching in your chest with desire and need. You jumped as the door to your room slammed open, and Tamlin growled. He seemed more beast than fae, mind lost in whatever this ritual had done to him. “Tamlin?”

Your voice shook him enough as he kneeled down in front if you, broad chest exposed and covered in swirling paint. “Y/n,” his voice was strained as he struggled to keep his eyes on your face. “Should have sent you back.” He was grounding out each syllable. “Fucking Rhysand.” 

You felt it again, a harsh tug on your chest before warmth and dedication flowed into your body. You gasped at how close it felt and his eyes grew wide. “You can feel it?”

“Feel what? That tug?”

He nodded almost desperate as he lifted you out of the water and searched for something. He came back with your robe, wrapping you in it before trying to lead you somewhere. “Tamlin, where are we going?”

“The Cave.” His voice wasn't his own, but another tug came. That ancient echo spoke again, making you shiver.. “I won't allow this vessel to settle for less than his mate.” 

His mate. You almost froze, making whatever held Tamlin's body stop and throw you over his shoulder. “Close your eyes, and feel,” it commanded as it walked you out the front door. 

The cave was filled with the sounds of sex, the scent of magic, arousal, sweat. Tamlin laid you on a bed at the center of it, eyes blown with lust. You felt it then, that string binding your souls, holding you together like missing pieces to a puzzle. He was himself again now, looking down at you with hesitation. “I will let you go if you ask, little rose.”

Your body was humming, mind lost as your eyes began to water staring into his. “It's just mindless sex,” you repeated words you'd heard since Azriel's bond snapped. “It means nothing to you.”

Tamlin's brow knit, those green eyes aching with sorrow for you. “It means everything. You mean everything to me," and he crashed his lips down onto yours.

General Taglist:

Lost Bonds Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish

@impossibelle @fxckmiup @applerubyy @awkardnerd @sleepylunarwolf @macimads @esposadomd @stormhearty

#acotar #acotar x reader #tamlin #tamlin x reader #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar

[sebscore]

BLOOMING BOND | LEWIS H.

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader 

warnings: reference to his iconic 'imagine' tweet. talk about having kids. talk of not wanting an unpresent father. swearing.

author's note: this post by @allkindfangirl inspired me to write this and I hope she enjoys it :) 

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Aunt Y/N, can you braid my hair, please?'' Willow walked up to the breakfast table, holding her pink hairbrush. 

The woman put her drink down, smiling down at the young girl. ''Of course, honey,'' she slid her chair back and got up, ''we'll do it inside so I can get ready myself.'' Y/N stuck out her hand and Willow swiftly took it. 

''Willow, what do you say to her?'' Her mother glanced at her, trying to look stern. The small girl huffed, seemingly embarrassed by her mother's reminder of having manners. ''Thank you, Y/N.'' The slight frown turned into a toothy grin as she looked up at her uncle's girlfriend. 

''You're welcome, Willow.'' Y/N chuckled, winking at Lewis who smiled at the pair. A skipping Willow dragged her inside the vacation home and made their way towards the bathroom. 

The rest of the family watched them leave with loving eyes, endeared by the interaction. ''Willow is obsessed with her.'' Nicola stated, looking at her brother. 

Her sister nodded her head. ''I know,'' she agreed, ''her hair needs to be like Y/N's, her clothes need to be like Y/N's- it's all I'm hearing these days.'' She sighed, not out of annoyance or agitation, but out of happiness that Willow had found a role-model in her brother's partner. 

''That's adorable,'' Lewis giggled, ''Y/N also loves her and Kaiden- always talking about how such good kids they are and wanting to buy them stuff.'' He told his family, recalling the times they had gone shopping and Y/N would see certain items that reminded her of the two kids. 

''It's very sweet.'' Anthony commented, the smile on Lewis' face bringing one to his own. 

Carmen scratched her voice. ''The little ones were very excited to see the two of you again. They were even naming all the things you could do together.'' The weeks leading up to the family vacation, Willow and Kaiden had been telling their grandmother's ear off about how much they were looking forward to it. 

''We were excited as well, it's been a while since we've all spent time like this together.'' Lewis answered, his heart melting at the thought of his niece and nephew being all giddy about seeing him and Y/N again. 

The other family members agreed. ''Yes, thank you so much for organising this, Lu.'' Samantha thanked him, sending an appreciative smile his way. 

''No, you don't have to thank me! It's my pleasure.'' He brushed her words off, growing shy. 

A comfortable silence fell upon them, bathing in the family time and the beautiful sight of the morning glow in Bali. That didn't last long, though. 

''CANNONBALL!'' 

The loud voice of Kaiden cut through the peace and the sound of someone landing in the pool interrupted the tranquillity of the moment. Lewis' brother-in-law quickly followed after his son and everyone went back to either eating or getting themselves ready for the activities of the day. 

''Nice braid, Willow.'' Lewis complimented his niece as she walked past him to go outside with her new hair, a braid with several flower accessories attached. 

''I know, Y/N did it.'' She told her uncle in a 'duh'-tone. 

Lewis simply laughed and walked to their room, finding his girlfriend changing into a beautiful spring dress. ''Hey, beauty.'' He kissed her cheek, admiring her in the mirror. 

''Hi, honey.'' Y/N smiled at him, adjusting the straps on her shoulders. 

''I just ran into miss Willow who had a beautiful braid in her hair.'' He grinned, grabbing his swimming trunks from his suitcase. ''I told her it looked nice and she just went ''I know, Y/N did it' with a little attitude, it was the funniest thing.'' He recalled the interaction with his niece, chuckling to himself. 

''I wonder where she gets that sassy attitude from.'' Y/N smirked, glancing at her boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. 

Lewis took off his infamous Senna shirt and threw it at her, the woman smoothly catching it. ''I have no idea what you're talking about, darling.'' He pretended, sheepishly smiling. 

''Oh, Mister 'Imagine' doesn't know what I'm talking about, huh?'' Y/N lightly mocked him, folding his shirt and laying it on one of the chairs. 

The Mercedes driver took off his shorts and boxers, switching them for his swimming wear. ''Anyway,'' he changed the topic, making her laugh, ''we were just talking about how well you and the little ones get along.'' A fond smile found its way to his face, remembering the conversation he had earlier. 

''Really? That's cute, Lew.'' A few years ago it would have freaked her out if she knew his family had been talking about her, but a loving bond had bloomed over the course of her relationship with Lewis and now she considered them family as well. 

''Yeah,'' he walked up behind her, trapping her in a back hug, ''it made me think about something.'' 

''About what?'' Y/N looked at him through the mirror. 

''About us having our own kids.'' 

The sudden mention surprised her, her eyebrows raised and eyes widened. They had discussed it before, but some time had passed between that last conversation and now. ''Oh.'' 

''I know we said we would continue the discussion when it's my last F1 season, but I just couldn't help but think about it when you walked away with Willow.'' Lewis confessed, a dreamy look in his eyes. 

''I understand,'' she smiled, ''you'd be a great dad, Lewis.'' 

Sometimes it was hard to ignore the warm feeling she got when she saw Lewis with kids, it made her daydream about her future with the Formula One star. Y/N was okay with waiting until Lewis was ready to retire, though. She wanted a present father for her children- not one that was away most of the time and missed all the important milestones in their children's life. 

''And you will be the most amazing mother.'' He pressed a kiss to her temple, reveling in the feeling of having the love of his life in his arms. 

''Sir Uncle and Aunt Y/N sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes baby. In a baby carriage!'' Kaiden and Willow chorused, yelling the popular playground nursery rhyme through the house. 

The couple laughed at the comedic interruption, pulling away from one another. ''Maybe it's not that bad to wait a few years, I'm not ready for that yet.'' Lewis joked, grabbing a towel and his phone. 

''Dream on, honey.'' Y/N teased, walking to their bathroom and taking the sunscreen from one of the cabinets. 

Lewis stuck his head through the bathroom door, a smirk playing on his lips. ''I do have a wild imagination.'' He winked, referring to his own song with Christina Aguilera. 

''Fuck off, XNDA,'' she tried throwing a discarded towel at him, ''I like Kendrick more, anyway.''

#lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagines #f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #formula one fics #lewis hamilton x y/n #f1 x you #lewis hamilton #f1 fluff

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Final Part

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I'm sorry this took me a little while guys. I'm currently a sick college student without the funds for Dayquil so we've been struggling. I hope you all like this <3

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): mentions of physical abuse, mentions of SA, major sexisim, SMUT, dirty talk, Oral (male and female receiving), Slight breeding kink?, angst,

Word count: 5475

(all photos are from pinterest)

I glanced through the crevice in the oak doors and beheld the most serene image I have ever witnessed, perhaps ever will witness. Candles lighted the room giving it a warm, faint, glow. The smell of night blooming jasmine filled the air and not a sound could be heard from the small chapel. Rhys stood tall and proud, a crown atop his beautiful head. All members of the inner circle stood around, getting ready to bear witness to the ceremony about to take place. 

I smoothed my hands over my wedding dress once more. I had frantically gone shopping with Mor the day after Rhysand asked me to be his High Lady. With the council meeting to discuss my fate coming so soon we had no time for a grand ceremony, but I couldn’t have been happier with the way things had turned out. Even though the dress was last minute it was perfect, and I couldn’t have pictured anything else I would’ve married Rhys in. 

If you’re having second thoughts mate we can always postpone, Rhysand’s voice crooned into my mind. I looked through the crack in the door to find a somewhat worried expression on his face. 

“Far from it my love, I was just making sure I look perfect.” I giggle down the bond. 

I’m dying to see you in a wedding dress.

I smile and decide not to wait any longer to fulfill his desires. I leave a light knock on the double doors signaling for the men on the other sides to open them up. Immediately all eyes are on me. Normally I would panic or flee or worse, but not tonight. Tonight I locked eyes with Rhys, admiring that unique shade of violet that pulled me in from the moment I set eyes on him. The aisle was short and within a few steps I was clasping hands with Rhys. 

“You’re so beautiful mate,” he gushes, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“You clean up pretty good yourself mate,” I smile, squeezing his hands as we both turn to the priestess. 

“We all gather here today to be witness to the union of these two fae, and the crowning of our new High Lady of The Night Court,” the priestess begins and turns to Rhysand, “Do you, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, take y/n to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?” 

Rhys regarded me with a familiar gaze, one he had cast a thousand times, but this time held a distinct quality. It was a look of pride, something I had never seen before him. I had never held such significance for anyone. His gaze conveyed a sense that I was everything he had ever desired, the missing piece in his puzzle—lost and now found.

“I do,” he smiled and a tear fell down his cheek. 

The priestess turned to me, “Do you, y/n, Princess of the Spring Court, take Rhysand to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?” she said. 

“I do,” I say to Rhys without hesitation. Down the bond I can feel joy in his heart rise. 

“Y/n,” she begins again. “Will you swear the oath of High Lady?” 

I smile and feel my nerves pick up but I answer truthfully, “I will,” 

The priestess picks up a glittering crown and holds it in her hands. The large diamonds atop it remind me of the stars that lie over the Illyrian mountain. “Do you y/n promise to serve and protect the Night Court? Do you promise to uphold the customs and practices of its people? To lay down your life for the sake of this court and always act in its best interest whatever the consequence?” she asked me. 

“I solemnly promise to do so,” I say assuredly. 

“Then I crown thee, High Lady of the Night Court,” she says, placing the crown on my head, the weight of it comforting me. “And by the power vested in me, by our High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court, I pronounce you both husband and wife. Rhysand, you may kiss your wife and your High Lady.” the priestess mused. 

“With pleasure,” he smiled before placing a hand on my cheek and pulling me in for a deep kiss. I couldn’t help but smile as I felt his rogue tear of happiness caress my cheek. 

I broke the kiss and looked into his eyes as I raised a hand to cup his face. He was so handsome, so perfect and he was mine. All I could think of was one word, husband. 

“Hell yeah I have a sister now!” Cassian shouted, picking me up and swinging me around before putting me down and engulfing me in a massive bear hug. I backed away to see Cassian’s happy face and then I felt a hand placed  on my shoulder.  

“We have a sister Cass,” Azriel crooned and I turned to give him a hug as well.

“Welcome to the family y/n!” Mor shouted, throwing her arms around me and it wasn’t long until the whole inner circle was giving me the world's longest group hug. 

Not the inner circle anymore, my family. The word used to taste like venom in my mouth, my family had never loved me, never seen me as anything but a means to power. A marble mansion that was so empty and cold. But now I had this, this family. This marriage might not save me from the demands of Tamlin and Eris, and me being High Lady might not give me immunity from Beron’s wrath. But it gave me one thing, something to fight for, not just my mate, but my family.  

The sun shined brightly in the Day Court like it did the last time I stepped foot here. Things had changed so much since then. Back then I had just met Rhys and he was begging me to just say his name. Now I walked in as his wife and his High Lady. Although my dress billowed behind me like I was going to a ball I had never felt more like I was going to war. 

Azriel and Cassian flanked behind us, normally they didn’t come to council meetings but Rhys told me he meant what he said, that he wouldn’t let Beron and Eris take me from him. He was prepared to fight our way out of this chamber, and was prepared to kill every High Lord in here. The scary part is that he was perfectly capable of doing so, especially with Azriel and Cassian with us. 

The room wasn’t abuzz with the usual chatter of High Lords and their companions when we arrived there. The second we crossed the threshold all eyes were on us. I couldn’t tell which drew their gaze the most, their princess of spring clad in black, the crown glittering atop my head, Rhysand’s death glare, or the Illyrians that flanked us. Each lord seated themselves presently, feeling our silent threat. Every lord but one. 

“Night becomes you, sister,” Tamlin drawls from where he leans over the long table, Beron and Eris seated on his left, Lucien at his right. 

“That it does, Tamlin,” I say, my words cold as ice. I feel Rhysand pluck at the bond showing his pride. 

“Rhysand, y/n. Please be seated so we may begin the trial,” Helion said. I had always loved Helion, and I could tell he wasn’t happy about this arrangement. But for whatever reason this is where the trial would be held. We do as we are asked, Cassian and Azriel standing behind us as the chairs here are not equipped for wings. “Beron, Tamlin we will hear your case, then Rhysand you will be able to state yours. After that the council will decide who is at fault.” Helion explains and nods to Beron to begin. 

“High Lord’s of Prythian I have brought this issue before you today because I wish to find a civil resolution to my case, rather than declaring war upon the Night Court,” Beron began. “A few weeks ago Tamlin and I had meetings discussing the betrothal of Eris and y/n. It had always been abundantly clear from that meeting forward that y/n belonged to Eris. All that stood in the way of formally announcing the engagement was solidifying the terms of the union, what we would give Tamlin in exchange for her and how many male heirs she would be required to bear Eris. She was the property of Eris Vanserra long before Rhysand ever tried to claim her.” Beron says with a confidence that I almost envy.  

It took everything inside of me not to lash out at the word “property” and Rhysand’s grip on my hand told me it killed him inside as well. I can’t help but feel some sort of fear, these men only see me as a breeding vessel, they don’t care for my happiness and they don’t care for my well being beyond my ability to bear sons. I don’t stand a chance at going home with Rhys.

Shhh, I’ll never let them take you. I’ll burn this place to the ground if they even touch you.  That beautiful, glorious voice cleaves into my mind and I let myself breathe again.

“And when did Rhysand make his claim on your sister?” Tarquin asks Tamlin, clearly still holding a grudge over the land dispute they had. 

“It started a week ago today, when my sister came home from what I thought was the Winter Court. She came into my office and told me that the High Lord of the Night Court had deflowered her and that because of it she no longer wished to marry Eris Vanserra. Soon after Rhysand broke into my court, attacked me, and stole my sister away.” Tamlin said. 

“You dirty fucking liar!” I stand unable to keep myself restrained anymore. I feel Rhysand’s hand grip my arm but I don’t care anymore. How dare Tamlin spew out such disingenuous claims in a trail such as this. 

“You are not a member of this council you useless whore and you will not speak unless spoken to!” Beron shouts standing as well, the moment he does his eyes go wide and pain laces his face. Rhysand stands beside me and I realize that he has his talons in Beron’s mind.  

“If you EVER speak of my wife in such a manor again, I will fucking kill you and every male heir you have Vanserra,” Rhysand booms, and even I feel a chill go down my spine. 

“Wife?!” Tamlin shouts in a fit of anger, taking to his own two feet. 

“And his High Lady,” I boast with pride and I scooch my hand to lay on top of Rhysand’s. All I can feel thrumming through the bond is pure male pride as the entire room begins to murmur their shock to one another. 

“Impossible,” Tamlin seethes, getting ready to pounce as the room continues in their sock and surprise. 

“Quiet!” Helion shouts above the crowd, and I don’t break eye contact with Tamlin. “All of you sit down now!”  

We do as we’re told but it doesn’t dissolve the tension in the room as we all continue to stare daggers into one another. Tamlin tries to cover his shock with anger but hides it poorly. 

“Rhysand, why did you attack Tamlin in his own court?” Helion asks calmly. 

“Because he threatened my mate,” he growled. This time the room gave a collective gasp and would’ve gone into full blown panic had Rhys not continued to speak. “I found her injured, freezing and starving in the dungeons below the Spring Court. If we had this meeting sooner you would be able to see the bruise around her beautiful neck from where he choked her.”

Neither party speaks save for the buzzing mumbles circling the room that followed the word ‘mate’. For me to be mated to Rhysand was surely the most exciting and scandalous thing to happen in a hundred years. Kallias was the one to finally break the silence.

“The laws of mates are absolute, and we will not stand by and watch this council question Rhysand and y/n another moment!” Kallias shouts, standing hand in hand with Vivianne. 

My head whips over to the High Lord and Lady and I expect to see something like pity in Viviane's eyes, but all I see is happiness and pride. Happiness for having finally found my mate, pride for having finally found the will to stand up for myself.

“I stand with Kallias and Viviane, if we don’t validate their mating bond, who's to say the council won’t stop with them.” Thessan says. “If I ever find my mate I don’t want to worry about them being taken away from me.” 

A collective murmur of agreement comes over the room and it seems that a verdict has been decided. Helion stands and the scrape of his chair echos off the marble walls quieting everyone down. 

“All those in favor of blessing the union of Rhysand and y/n?” he asks. Every single hand shoots up without hesitation, the only ones who don’t belong to the Spring and Autumn Court. “Rhysand and y/n. You have the blessing of this council.” Helion smiles. 

I turn to Rhys smiling brightly as the whole council room erupts in applause. His violet eyes gleam with pride and for the first time ever he drops his mighty High Lord act and smiles back. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him and I can hear Viviane saying “awww” from across the room. We break apart and I can’t help but stare at him. Free, I am finally free. 

“YOU SELFISH WHORE!” Tamlin screeches and in a second he leaps across the table. He doesn’t get far before blue and red siphons are holding him back. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!” he screams struggling against Cassian and Azriel’s power.

Rhys threw his body in front of mine and I put a hand on his shoulder and began to move past him towards Tamlin. He grabs my wrist and I turn to meet his violet gaze. His eyes laced with worry asking me to stay behind him. 

“It’s okay,” I say quietly and Rhys lets go. I walk towards where Tamlin is still struggling and stand right in front of him. I can feel Rhys’ tension through the bond but I push it away. “You did this to yourself Tamlin. I wish things had been different, I really do. I could kill you right now, but I won’t. But if you EVER step foot in my court, I will send out my General, my Spymaster and my mate to find you and I will let them kill you in whatever way they deem worthy for a male such as you.” 

Tamlin stops struggling, unable to fight against Cassian and Azriel any longer. For once in my life, I see true fear in his eyes. A male stripped of everything, his land, his power, his bargaining chip and now his pride. 

I turn and take Rhysand’s hand and he leads me out of the council room, Cassian and Azriel flanking behind us in case Tamin gets any bright ideas again. 

“My strong, smart, beautiful mate. I am so proud of you. You spoke like a true High Lady in there,” Rhys boasts as we walk down the hall. 

“I feel like a High Lady now,” I laugh, squeezing his hand.

“Just wait till later, wife. I have every intention of taking you home and fucking you senseless while you wear nothing but that crown on your head.” Rhysand drawls low.

Rhys can hardly keep his hands off me as we burst into the townhouse. In fact he doesn't. I'm the one who has to open the front door because his fingers won’t stop dancing all over my waist as he leaves open mouth kisses all over my neck. If this was his reaction to me wearing a crown, best believe I would be wearing them a lot more often. 

The door slams behind us and in an instant he has me pressed up against it already lifting my skirts. 

“Rhys, Rhys wait there’s something I need to do first!” I protest as he attacks my neck.

“Yes, you need to do me first.” he smirks, kissing me again.

“Rhys stop!” I giggle pushing him off and he finally halts his movements. “Have a seat, I'll be right back.” I smile before disappearing into the next room. 

I look around the kitchen and all I see are ingredients. I turn to make sure Rhys isn’t following me and find him sprawled out on the couch in a fit of utter frustration. I try not to giggle to myself as I raid the kitchen. Normally the townhouse makes food for us, so being in here is new. I keep opening up drawers and only finding utensils, towels and bowls. 

“Wife, I'm dying in here!” Rhysand groans from the living room. 

“One moment my oh so impatient husband!” I holler back. 

My eyes land on a jar of strawberry jam and I snatch it up eagerly. I walk over to the bread box and pluck a slice from it. I place it on an ornate plate and begin to spread the jam on top as neat and perfect as can be before carrying it out to the living room where my husband is throwing his temper tantrum. 

“Here,” I say, handing him the toast with jam. “I know it’s not much but it’s all that was lying around.” 

Rhysand’s eyes light up as I present him with food that I made. He takes the plate carefully and looks at it, knowing full well what it means for a female to present her mate with food.  

“You want to mate? Right now?” he asks bewildered. 

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. 

“You do know what you’re getting into right? I won’t act like…myself. We’ll have to go into the mountains for  a while. I won’t be able to control myself,” he explains further and I can already feel the arousal pooling between my legs. 

“Yes I know what I’m getting myself into. We can go into the mountains for however long we need. But I want our first mating to be here, in our home. Then we can winnow to the cabin. That’s my only stipulation,” I tell him. 

“I will agree to that,” he replies. 

I don’t even have time to say another word before he takes a couple bites of the pathetic toast I made him. While I watch him consume it, I’m sure that it’s the worst mating meal a female has ever presented to a male. Nonetheless, he eats it like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.  

His eyes flick up to meet mine and the plate is discarded on the floor with a crash. In mere seconds stands up and I swear to the gods he’s even taller than he normally is. His hand circles my waist and his touch sets me on fire, now that the mating bond has been accepted. His free hand tilts my chin up to him and he stares at my lips. I must look like a wanton whore begging for him to touch me. 

“Mine,” he growls before searing our lips together. The word alone tells me everything he said before this is true. This isn’t just Rhys, it’s Rhys in his most primal form. 

I whine into his lips and I feel him hoist me up in his arms with ease, despite the large amounts of tule that make up my dress. My hands are in his hair in an instant, nearly knocking the crown off his head and I grab it before it falls off. We start moving up the stairs as fast as Rhysand’s can carry us. 

“Best believe the first time I fuck you as my mate it’s going to be in our marriage bed,” he smirks before slamming the door to our bedroom with his foot. 

The second he talks about fucking me my skin is on fire and the buzzing sension I always felt when he was near was amped up times ten. Like if I didn’t get his cock in me right now I would burst into flames and die. He sets me down on my feet and I begin to undo the buttons of his shirt.  I feel him fumble with the millions of buttons fastening the back of my dress before a deafening rip sounds throughout the room and those millions of buttons are being cast off in every direction.

 I don’t even have a mind to care about it as the dress cascades down and pools on the floor. His mouth is all over my collar bones needy and leaving little bites all over me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful mate,” he groans between kisses. 

I feel my crown slipping and I move to take it off but I feel Rhys’ hand stop me. 

“What did I say earlier?” he asked. 

“That you wanted to fuck me while I wear nothing but the crown,” I say meekly remembering his promise.

“No I said I was going to fuck you senseless while you wear nothing but that crown mate,” he groans kissing me deeply again. 

I feel my legs hit the mattress and I fall back on it greedily. He stares down at me like I’m his own personal feast and he nearly pounces on me but I hold a hand up to stop him. 

“I want to try something,” I say before he can ravish me again. “Something I read about in a book.” I explain further. 

“Oh really? Well I won’t pass up that opportunity. What do you want me to do mate?” His voice is deep and husky.

“Just stand there,” I say before sliding off the bed and dropping to my knees in front of him. 

His eyes blow wide as I stare up at him from under my eye lashes. My hands go to his pants where I expertly un-fasten them and pull them down his legs along with his underwear. He steps on them and watches me intensely as I’m face to face with his aching cock.  

“Are you going to suck my cock wife?” he muses and the words go straight to my core as I wrap my hands around him and give a lick up his length. 

The sound that comes out of him is nothing short of animalistic. It spurs me on as I take him the entire length of my mouth and start sucking. Whatever I can’t fit in my mouth I stroke with my hands and the look of pure bliss on him has me seeing stars. He so fucking beautiful. His muscles are dripping with sweat from the need to cum in me, his eyes are closed taking every stroke I give him, and his lips are parted having the softest wimpers escape them. He’s never been more beautiful than he is right now and I can’t help but moan, sending vibrations through his cock. 

“Oh fuck mate!” he screams and his hands find the back of my head. I swear I’m so wet at the sight of him getting his pleasure from me that I might have left a wet spot on his carpet. I moan again to send another wave of vibrations through him. 

“Shit y/n I’m gonna cum, let me cum inside you!” He shouts trying to remove my head from his member but I swipe his hand away. 

I gently cup his balls and it has him emptying his load into my mouth. I work him through his orgasm staring up at him with the most innocent eyes. I pull my mouth off him and open it for him to see the evidence of his climax inside. I close it again and swallow, feeling the saltiness of it slide down my throat. I open my mouth again to show him that nothing was left and it has him spiraling. 

“You cruel wicked thing,” he growls, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. His body crawls over mine and I run my hands down his bare chest, toned and perfect and all mine. 

“Rhys I wanna try one more thing,” I whine but I’m silenced by his lips on mine. 

“I think it’s my turn now mate,” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver.

He kisses down my neck and my collar bones. I feel his tongue swirl around each of my peaked nipples and I cry out at the friction I didn’t know I needed so badly. His mouth presses a kiss under my breast and when he reaches my lower stomach he looks up at me with a feral grin. 

“I want you to know that I have every intention of getting you so thoroughly pregnant that every male in Prythian will have no choice but to recognize that you are my mate.” He growls, pressing a kiss over my womb. “But not tonight, and not anytime soon. For now I will take pleasure in showing them what an amazing High Lady you are.”  

His mouth trails down and kisses either side of my bare thighs. His hand runs over my stomach and down my leg to hike one knee up over his shoulder to give himself access to where I need him most. 

“Now watch how a High Lord eats out his High Lady, mate,” he grins before diving into me like a starved man. 

I arch my back off the mattress and my hands fly to  his silky hair. I accidentally tug his strands too hard causing him to groan, the vibrations stimulating my clit. He pulls his mouth off me and plunges his fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spongy spot that always left me undeniably breathless. He pulls his head back to watch how I take his fingers and his eyes catch on something. 

“There’s that perfect clit,” he smiles slowly lowering his mouth over the sensitive bud so that his breath fanned it. “Show me those pretty little sounds you make when I lick it, wife.” 

His tongue gives a teasing lick at the apex of me and I let out a moan that’s so high pitched it’s nearly embarrassing. He only chuckles before attacking the spot with a million little licks. The combination of his tongue and his fingers have me screaming his name in no time. 

“Oh gods Rhysand!” I scream as I hit my climax. Tears sting my eyes from the immense pleasure. Rhys has always been able to pull orgasm after orgasm from my body, but the mating bond heightens everything. 

“I need you,” he growls crawling back up my body. “Now”

I pull him close and I feel his hands flip my hips around so that I’m on all fours for him. I nearly groan at the feeling of him running a large hand down my spine. 

“Rhys please,” I cry, pressing my ass into his hard cock. 

“Shh, patience mate,” leans over and whispers in my ear. I feel his cock nudge my entrance and within a moment he is pushing himself into me.  

The stretch is enough to have my chest heaving in pleasure, but the full feeling of him inside of me has me letting out a moan. His hands grip my hips as he starts to thrust inside of me. 

“Always so fucking tight for me,” Rhys grits out increasing his pace.

“Harder Rhys!” I scream needing more of him. 

It’s at that moment I realize that I’ll never truly get enough of him. He could shackle me to his bed and never stop fucking me and it still wouldn’t be enough. The need for him was too great, even before the mating bond. Before I even said his name. I had needed him the second I saw that flash of violet. I’ll never stop needing him. 

“You’re fucking mine!” He growls as his grip on my hips tighten and the moans coming out of him are pure mated male. 

“Oh fuck Rhys I’m gonna…” I shout my words trailing off. 

“Cum for me mate,” he orders me and I oblige.

I climax so hard my vision blacks out for a second, my pussy contracting around him sending him sputtering and cumming inside of me with a roar and I swore the house shook. I collapse, burying my face into the pillow. I feel him gently turn my body over so he can see me. His eyes fall to where his cum is leaking out of me and he bends down to press a kiss to my clit again. 

“Mine,” he says, eyes peering up at me. 

He crawls up to me and pulls me on top of his chest stroking my hair. 

“So it’s official, I am now your wife, your High Lady AND your mate.” I laugh. 

“If I had more titles left to give you I would,” he chuckles, running his hands through my hair more. 

“I don’t think I could ever ask for more than this, more than you.” I say pressing a kiss to his chest and leaning up so I was straddling him. He put his arms behind his head and stared at me like I was a work of art. “I love you so much Rhys. I only wish the gods had given me a million more ways to say it. But I can’t make it any simpler than that… I love you.” 

“I know the feeling, sometimes I get frustrated because ‘I love you’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I feel for you mate,” he smiles. 

I lean down to kiss him passionately, hoping that if words can’t tell him how much he means maybe actions can. I know they won’t. His hands slide from behind  his head to my waist and my hair, pulling me deeper into him. My hips grind on his abs a little and I feel his hard cock brush up against my back side causing him suddenly to stop. 

“We need to get to the cabin,” he says frantically. “Now.” 

The cold mountain air grazes my skin as I sit on the bannister watching the sun come up. The silk bathrobe does little to keep me warm, but the breeze is refreshing. I glance through the window where I see Rhysand sleeping on the massive bed. 

We had been holed up in the snowy mountains for a week now doing everything but sleeping. He wasn’t wrong about the Frenzy and how it would affect our ability to function as normal fae. One night I tried to prepare dinner for us and we lasted about 10 minutes before he took me on the kitchen counter. As I watched the sun rise on the glistening snow I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that every surface in that cabin had been defiled in one way or another. 

The birds began to chirp as I took another long sip of my warm tea. Never had I been so at peace. Never had I been so loved. It was as if every moment of my life had been leading to this one right here. To him.

I felt two warm arms snake around my front as Rhys placed a kiss on my cheek. 

“You’re going to freeze to death out here,” he mumbles into my neck. 

“No I’m not you big worry wart,” I giggle as his lips tickle my neck. I feel him wrap a blanket around the two of us and I lean back into his chest savoring the warmth of him. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, resting his head on top of my head. 

“I’m thinking about how everything in my life led me to you. How I’ve never been more happy and at peace than I am in this court.” I say honestly. 

“Your court my Lady,” he smiles, pressing another kiss to my cheek. 

“Our court, Rhys,” I smile. “What do we do now?”

Rhys chuckles into my shoulder, “We go home, we rule, and you let me love you forever.” he whispers, kissing my shoulder. 

I turn to face him, “I think I can live with that.” I smile.

(AN: wow I'm kinda sad that this series is over now. I feel like I'm going to me missing a huge piece of me :( I want to say thank you to all who read this and supported me, I never thought this would get as much love as it did. I hadn't written in so long, it feels so good to know that people still care about the things I dream up. Now I have some good news...

The next mini series is going to be about...

now drumroll please....

CASSIAN x Female! Reader

I'm so pumped to write this it's been in my head forever. Plot is that the reader is Rhysand's little sister and she is betrothed to Eris. So if you loved the secret love aspect of this series you're going to EAT UP the next one. If you would like to be on the taglist for it go ahead and let me know!)

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88 , @tenaciousperfectionunknown , @judig92, @aunicornmademedoit , @sharknutz , 

 @slytherintaco, @isa1b2h3, @nickishadow139  , @sarawritestories , @coisas-da-dani ,  @lovemesomevesey ,  @graceshifts ,  @writeroutoftime, @why4anne,

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you

[merymoonbeam]

Just look at the same highlighted parts...greens especially.

“When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.” A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. “He did. He saw me. He will not now.”

Look really.

The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.” “How.” The word was barely more than a barked command. I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

It really tells a story.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

It does.

It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed. He asked Elain, “There is another queen?”

As if it is making us...

But Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.” Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in. “The sixth queen is alive?” Azriel asked, calm and steady, the voice of the High Lord’s spymaster, who had broken enemies and charmed allies. Elain cocked her head, as if listening to some inner voice. “Yes.” Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

SEE

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.

And that's it, your Honor

#elriel #elriel brainrot is back in full force #I cannot be stopped. #I think the best part about this is that I only used acowar quotes...didnt even need to dive into other books #thats called having canon material

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: I'm hoping y'all like it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The chamber is pungent with sweat. A clammy sheen coats Edith's forehead as she gives another rattling cough. You hear the crackle in her lungs and smell the iron of her blood before it stains the crumpled handkerchief your mother dabs her lips with. 

She's been sick for months. Your mother said the summer heat would help her recovery but the drought that followed the spring downpour only seemed to worsen her symptoms. The once buoyant and bright eyed girl lays shrouded beneath a canopy, gulping and gasping, frail and despondent. 

Your fathe clears his throat, startling you from the doorway. You hadn't heard him appear. You glance at him over your shoulder and ser the grimness in his eye, the stone that has not dislodged since your sister fell ill. She always was his favourite. She's everyone's favourite. She is gentle and kind and rare.

Your mother turns to peek at your father's shadow. She gives a nod and rises, beckoning you forth, handing over the cloth and squeezing it into your palm. 

"Sit with your sister," she nearly whispers. The chamber is always quiet, as if speaking too loud might tempt the fates. Alas, it was always Edith who would sing to fill the dearth. She always knows what to do, what to say.

You perch on the edge of the bed as your mother crosses the floor. Not a word passes between your parents as they retreat. Again, the must discuss something dire, as they've done these last weeks. Each time, it only serves to gray their melancholy further.

Edith stares above her. Eyes glassy and distant. She coughs again and a fleck of phlegm lands on her chin. You mop it up as you wonder how her round cheeks could ever have become so taut and worn.

Her gaze drifts, slowly and lazily, a divet forming between her brows as she strains to look at her. The corners of her lips twitch but she hasn't the strength to smile. She gulps back another raspy cough.

"It's… you," she breathes, "my… sister."

Her words come far apart, each summoned with an effort. As you lower the handkerchief back to your lap she wheezes and lifts her hand shakily. She moves it towards you and lets it drop onto yours.

"I love you, sister," she wisps, "I… I remember…" she shakes her head and wets her tongue, "how much you love…dandelions and daffodils… and everything yellow and blooming." 

Her chest rattles as she falls into a fit. She curls her shoulders and clings to you tightly, her brittle nails sinking into your skin. She swallows loudly as she leans heavily against the pillows, her coughs subsiding. 

"I recall… and I know… you are just as… vibrant…" she bends her fingers around yours, "you must… be… for mother."

"No, Edi, you awe," you murmur, your syllables wobby, "and you will be. Again. You will be that for motha and fatha. You have to… I can't."

She groans and lets her head loll, "you will."

You frown. She is wrong. You cannot replace her and she will not die. It cannot be.

You lower your chin, eyes stinging. Your sister always cast a shadow over you, but you don't mind the shade. She always let you stand off to the side, she let you be quiet, she let you be unseen and safe. She is the only person who ever knew the real you and loved you for it. 

"Don't be… sad," her voice creaks, "I'm not."

You peek at her from under your lashes and furrow your brow, to ask 'you're not?'

She reads you as well as ever, "how can I be?" She heaves and gathers her words, "it may be a short life… but rich… and less than… lonely."

You can't hold back. It's more than what she says, it's the resignation in her tenor. Even in defeat, she is blissful. You bend over her and embrace her daintily, resting your head on her chest, listening to dull beat and the hoarse crackle within. You close your eyes and sniffle.

"You will be well again," you avow, "you have to get well." You let your tears flow down and wet her shift. She raises her hand and rests it on your head, petting your lightly, "I need you."

"I will be around… always," she hums, "you will know where to find me."

Her words dangle over you, confounding you. Cryptic but certain. You know she is right, as ever, but you want so badly for her to lie to you. 

🔹

You wake beneath the small glow of a single taper. Your mother holds a candlestick as she gently tugs on your sleeve. You peer over at your sister’s silhouette, her breaths whistling with each exhale. You sit up, reluctant to leave her.

“Come,” is all the wraithlike matriarch bids.

You obey, rising to follow her across the dark chamber. The hallway is lit only by her candle and the light shining out from a doorway further down. Your father welcomes you into his study, an unusual occasion but you sense not a happy one.

He sits behind his desk on the grand carved chair with medieval posts topped with polished wooden orbs. Your mother lowers herself onto a velvet seat and you take another stiff oaken chair, dragged in from the dining hall. You glance between them and purse your lips tightly. 

Your father sighs, long and heavy, steepling his fingers then quickly, letting them twine together. He sits forward and presses his chin to his knuckles. Your mother sits staunchly, staring ahead, sombre and silent.

“It is best in these moments to be pragmatic,” your father begins quietly, pushing his shoulders back as he forcefully clears the frog in his throat, “to think as a family, to consider the legacy of my name.” He looks down, unusually reticent. He moves his head back and forth, grazing his untended stubble across his fingers, “you will have to make the journey to Jade Park.”

Your frown. You’re uncertain what he means. You shake your head and blink furiously. It’s the closest you ever came to speaking out of turn. Though, your father despises how little you ever said.

“She is too sick to travel. Or to marry. Even if the lord in question made the trek himself to meet his betrothed, she would not be able to receive him… if she were still alive.”

You choke audibly and clutch your throat. Your mother lets out a thick breath and shifts on her seat. Your father’s lip curls, irritated.

“The Duke made a contract for a wife, he will have one,” your father declares, gritting his teeth, “whether he be disappointed or not, he cannot claim forfeiture.”

You send your mother a desperate look. You cannot go and marry Lord Laufeyson. He is to be Edith’s husband. You were still to have some time ahead of you.

Your father covers his face and drags his hands up, combing over his hair with a growl. He holds his skull before sitting up sternly.

“And by the lord, speak up! He will not want a mute as a wife,” he snarls.

You shrink. It should have been you. You should be the one sick and dying. It should be Edith carrying on your father’s hopes. You are not good enough for it. Nor are you ever good enough for him. Where he dotes on Edith, he rants at you.

“Speak!” He slams his palm on the desk.

You flinch and push your head up. You fix your posture and unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth as you part your lips, “yes, fatha, as you bid me–”

“As is your duty,” he sneers, “as a daughter must. As a woman!”

He rails as he waves his hand angrily with each word. He slaps it back down and pushes himself to his feet. He stomps away and stops before the faded portrait of his forebear. You peek again at your mouth, her lips are straight as she looks at you blandly.

“Fatha,” you eke out and stand, “I pwomise I will do my best–”

“I cannot hear you!” He spins to face you, “I hear only mindless babbling. No husband wants a mouse for a wife. Let us only hope Laufeyson will accept one sister in place of another.”

“Fatha,” you squeak.

“Wife,” he ignores you, moving back behind his desk, “you will be certain to review her diction. Mute and dumb, how pitiful.”

You wince. No matter your efforts, your words are always skewed. Every syllable is a little longer than it needs to be, and you cannot form a sharp R. It all fools loose and awkward.

“Fatha–”

“Fathaaa,” he mimics and turns his back to you, “Thea, get her away from me. Ready her luggage.”

“Luggage? When am I to leave, fatha?”

“As soon as we can have you gone,” he mutters, “your sister deserves to die in peace.”

You fold your arms, holding yourself as his words sink into your chest. Like a knife, it cuts to the core and you can’t fight the sob that rises in your throat. You spin on your heel and flee. You hear him boom at your mother.

“Be certain she does not act as a child for her husband,” he barks.

You clamour into your sister’s chamber and over to the bed. You lower yourself next to her once more and wiggle close. Your tears fall as you tuck her hand between her arm and her body.

“Sista,” you gulp, “oh, sista, I don’t want to go… I don’t want you to go.”

🔹

You touch your lips as the carriage shudders with each turn of the wheel. You still feel your sister’s cold skin against you. That final kiss you gave. You know for sure that is what it is. You will not see her again. Not above the earth.

You lean against the wall, trembling with the motion. Your mother is across from you, dabbing her eyes with a folded handkerchief. She bawls loudly now and again, a lock of your sister’s hair clutched in her other hand. 

Despite her protests, your father insisted it would be undue for you to go alone and for neither of them to attend the introduction to assure the contract’s fulfillment. So she accompanies you and the single maid, Doreen.

Dread suffocates you in the cramped space. Even as the sun shines between the curtains, it is gray inside.

You put your head down and stare at the pages of the novel in your hands. Your vision is bleary and you don’t read. It is only an excuse, an act. You try to imprint your sister’s features into your head, try to memorise her voice. You never want to forget her. You want to keep every part of her with you.

The wheels roll on into the night. Your mother pulls a blanket around her but you let the cold chill you, almost praying that it might sicken you. That you could take the ague and your sister’s place. You shiver and look out from behind the curtain, watching the silhouettes of hills and trees pass.

The driver stops at the Crescent Hotel just inside the city. You rent a room and spend the night awake. Your mother sobs and snores until the sun rises. 

When you're ready to set back out on the road, your mother is certain to have the maid arrange your hair and check your face. She has you wear a particular dress, a shade of moss with pearl buttons, and a bonnet with a broad brim. Once past the city, it is only another hour to Jade Park.

You sit with hands clutched, the bench rigid beneath you, uncomfortable as your restlessness mounts. On and on until you are dizzy and quivering. You don’t know that you can do this, but you know you cannot say so.

You approach a great wall of lime washed bricks with a grand golden gate with twists at the peak of each pole. Your mother cranes to watch as you get nearer and you wring your hands together until the seams of your gloves sear your skin. The driver greets the gatekeeper and is let through after a brief introduction.

He proceeds through as the clop of the horses like hooves to your fragile mind. Closer and closer. The wheels slow and the carriage jostles as the driver climbs down. Yet another voice greets him, a groomsman who directs him before opening the door.

The driver places a step down for your mother to descend and you come out after he as the groom assists with a helping hand. You nearly trip on the inch tall heels of your shoes and your mother darts a reproachful glare in your direction. You apologise and look up at the square peaks jutting up from the top of the boxy manor.

The walls are a pale beige trimmed with lush hedges. Stone steps stretch before the wide doors and multi paned windows look out onto the sprawling lawn of green, speckled with marble statues, a fountain, and finely kept flowers. Tall trees peek out from behind the grand house and softly wave in the breeze.

Your mother steps closer to you and pinches your arm.

“Shoulders straight,” she girds, “do not gape like a simpleton. If you must, you may hide behind your fan.”

She takes a step forward, then another. Three before you kick yourself into motion. Your heart thumps loudly as you try to keep pace. The groom shows you up the steps and two others appear to open the double door at the top.

Oh my. 

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #regency au #mcu #marvel #the sticking point #series #au #thor

[jungle-angel]

Two Birds In A Nest (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob are just beginning to build your lives in Montana and hope that your family will grow with it

Warnings: Talks about starting a family, wanting a family, smut etc.

Your moans were tied together with Bob's even as you felt him gutter into you, an explosion of warmth blooming between your legs as your heavy breathing began to even out with each other's. You reached up, placing a hot hand against Bob's chest, feeling his fast heartbeat beneath your palm.

"Oh baby," he sighed happily, nuzzling your cheeks and your jaw. "My sweet (y/n), I can't get enough of you."

You giggled a little as you felt his baby smooth skin against yours, the both of you still sensitive to each other's kissing and caressing. Bob helped you up from your bed and into the bathroom, running a hot bath for the both of you to get you cleaned up. God it was heaven being in your brand new bathroom and not having to worry about who would be up at some ungodly hour of the morning to hog the shower. The steam carried with it the smell of Bob's Irish Spring body wash that he used on the both of you, gently washing every part of you that he could touch. Back into your shared bedroom you both went, crawling under the warm covers as the blizzard outside began to rage. Your house however, was so cozy and warm, the dogs sleeping soundly in their crates while the cats had taken to the laundry room in the finished basement.

You and Bob lay facing each other, chest to chest, tits pressing against each other and still warm from the bath. He looked like a dream with his soft cheeks, his limpid blue eyes that reminded you of the forget-me-nots that popped in your garden every spring. The lazy but loving smile on his face was almost the same as his dad's, the spitting image in all those family photos of Bob as a baby being held by Joe, his father.

Yet there was something that stirred and ached in your chest. You couldn't put your finger on what it was or why it was there, but it was.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Bob asked, seeing the worrisome look playing with your face.

"Do you ever feel like something's missing?" you asked in reply.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you answered a little sadly. "I just.....I pass by one of the empty rooms and all I can see in there is you standing over a crib.....a little baby in your arms.....maybe you're sitting in the rocker singing and rocking him or her to sleep."

Bob could feel his eyes burning and a few loose tears beginning to form. Growing up the youngest in a big family, he spent endless days playing with all his nieces and nephews, sometimes watching them while his brothers and sisters either didn't have the time to do so or had to go on a SEAL team mission like his oldest sister, Reagan's husband. Picking them up from school, playing with them and taking care of them had made him feel as though there had been a hole somewhere that he could just hardly fill. Ever since the two of you had gotten married, he wanted so badly to have just that....a family of your own and a house that truly felt like home.

"Oh baby," he cooed, kissing your cheeks. "It'll happen, don't you worry."

You had hoped so. God you had hoped so. It was all you could think about, even when you were at the school trying to teach your fifth graders about ancient India and having to fill one side of the chalkboard with a drawing from The Ramayana. Now that you and Bob could finally have the time to try, you were excited, happy, nervous and scared all at once.

"Do you....do you wanna try?" you asked him a little meekly.

You felt him roll his body on top of yours, the heat intensifying a little bit from the heavy duvet you only used in the winter. "Hell yes," Bob murmured, his lips gently grazing against yours.

You felt him kiss you gently, just as he had done earlier that night, the wetness beginning to build again between your legs as his red hot, throbbing cock slipped inside you with ease. You sighed and moaned happily as his hips thrust gently in and out of you, slowly drawing your orgasm out of you. It was almost like the blizzard outside, dizzying and a wild flurry of moans, groaning and skin slapping against skin before everything calmed down and you and Bob were resting skin-to-skin against each other.

"You think this one will take?" you asked sleepily.

"I've got a feeling," Bob yawned.

Sure enough it did. After almost a week of you waking up sick, you and Bob were over the moon to find that it had taken, the tears filling his eyes when he hears the baby's heartbeat for the first time, more so when you learn that it's a little boy, your tiny little August Robert Floyd, who becomes the biggest blessing your family has ever received.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

[jgracie]

APRIL SHOWERS BRING MAY FLOWERS

masterlist | rules

❝ Hiii how are you?I love your blog,can i please request Leo x fem!reader where she is a daughter of Demeter(no one writes for my mother😭)and she gives him flowers?Like it’s the first time that someone gives him flowers and he so in love with reader?Thank you so much and have a great day🌸🌸🌸 ❞ — anon

in which honeysuckles, orange blossoms and white carnations barely scratch the surface of your love for leo

pairing leo valdez x demeter!reader

warnings none:)

an the demeter cabin has their own personal garden in this. they have one in any of my fics mentioning actually just because i said so LOL also i lowkey hate this idk why sorry in advance

Ever since you were young, you’ve loved the transition between April and May. Days spent indoors as you yearned for a moment in your mother’s domain, the heavy rain reflecting your mood and dampening your spirits, turned into ones where you’d devote your time to harvesting crops and admiring the beautiful flowers, carefully snipping them as different combinations for bouquets flooded your mind

You should be happy right now, since it’s the first week of May. Flowers have begun to bloom and blossom all around you, and your siblings organised a spring festival in celebration. You love everything about spring. However, there was someone you loved more

You and Leo only started dating a few months ago, after about a year of pining, and at first your relationship couldn’t be better. Leo’s so, very sweet and incredibly doting, always checking on you and making gadgets to help with your gardening before you even thought about needing them. However, recently, you couldn’t help but notice how you saw him less and less

In the beginning, he just wouldn’t show up for breakfast, or show up late on the days he did grace you with his presence, and you didn’t think much of it, knowing how busy he tended to get with his machinery. As time progressed, he started skipping dinner too, and capture the flag, and then you stopped seeing him altogether

You thought leaving him alone would fix it - not wanting to come off as overbearing - but now you began to wonder about what this meant for your relationship. Was he doing it on purpose so he could see you less? Had you done something wrong to make him feel this way? Sure, you teased him from time to time, but that was very minimal, and you always made sure he was aware you didn’t mean any harm

Whatever you did, you wanted to set things right. So, in the first week of May, instead of preparing for the spring festival with your brothers and sisters, you made Leo a gift. You weren’t going to force him to forgive you, of course, but the idea of hurting him was really weighing on your heart so you decided to show him you loved him in the best way you knew: flowers. You walked around the gardens outside your cabin, delicately picking out the flowers you were going to put in your bouquet for Leo. Once you’d done that, you picked some fresh fruits for him, hoping he was sustaining himself well

You waded through the forest with a basket of fruits in one hand and a bouquet wrapped with the best tulle and ribbons your cabin could offer in the other. Your heart was just about ready to beat out of your chest, partially due to excitement, partially due to worry

Once you got to Leo’s humble abode (because we all know this boy probs sleeps there more than he sleeps in his cabin don’t play w me rn), you took a deep breath, then knocked on the door

“Come in!” Leo yelled. Carefully, you opened the door and made your way inside, your nose scrunching at the smell of gasoline and Gods know what else. Leo’s back was facing you, but just seeing the mop of curls on his head made your heart flutter. You really missed your boyfriend

“Hey Leo,” you greeted him, absentmindedly playing with the vines that were beginning to grow out of your head - a sign of your nervousness. At the sound of your voice, Leo smiled and decided to finally take a break from all the tinkering he was doing. The vines that tangled with your hair slowly began to disappear as you took in his expression

He patted his lap, and you went to sit there without any hesitation, your body desperately craving his touch. Leo nuzzled into the crook of your neck, taking in the smell of fresh flowers that clung to you, “missed you, amor,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling awfully sleepy. You ran your fingers through his curls, detangling them as you wallowed in the silence that hung between you

“I missed you too,” you said after a little bit, unable to stay quiet anymore, “I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”

At the last bit, Leo looked up, his brows knitted together in clear confusion, “why would I be mad at you? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The vines started growing again, “well… I rarely ever see you anymore, you’re always here. I thought maybe you did that on purpose because you didn’t wanna see me,” instantly, Leo knew he messed up. He was so busy spending time with his machines that he forgot about you - his lovely, sweet forest fairy

Tenderly rubbing your arm, Leo said, “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, baby. I could never be mad at you, really! You could blow up this whole place and I still wouldn’t be mad,” he got quiet around the end, distractedly fiddling with your fingers

You pulled your hands away from his and cradled his face, taking his appearance in. He was still your Leo, but you could tell he was exhausted. Bags hung under his sleepy eyes, making you want nothing more than to take him to bed, to tell him that it’s okay to take a break and that no one was going to get upset at him if he took a second to think about himself

At that moment, with your palms on his face and your soul in his heart, you remembered the gift you’d prepared for him, which you’d left on a nearby table earlier. Hopping off of Leo’s lap (and startling him in the process), you picked up the bouquet and basket and presented them to him

“I got you these! Fresh from our gardens,” maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen you in a while, or the fact that your shy smile seemed to be blinding him, or the fact that no one had ever thought of getting him a bouquet of flowers before, but as Leo took your presents in, he felt tears prick his eyes 

You, being the observant, kind-hearted girl you are, noticed this, “hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, making your way over to him and handing him his gift, which he gratefully accepted and took a second to admire as he blinked his tears away. Leo has always been in love with you, but at that moment, his heart was about to burst with it all. He couldn’t believe he willingly cooped himself up in bunker nine, knowing full well who awaited him outside of it - his daylight

“Nothing’s wrong, amor, I just really really missed you, and I don’t think anyone’s ever even thought of getting me a pretty bouquet of flowers, let alone gone through with it,” at this, you felt your heart break. You knew of the struggles Leo went through, having been a shoulder for him to lean on when he thought he was stuck being an extra wheel forever: always the best man, never the groom, but hearing him voice these thoughts made it even worse

“Well… you deserve them. You're the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for, Leo, don’t doubt that for a single second,” you said, an unwavering confidence in your voice

After that day, Leo always kept a flower in bunker nine, right in front of where he worked, so you’d always be with him. He also invested in a clock so he’d actually be able to tell when one day ended and the other began, never wanting to leave you by your lonesome again

#leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez #leo valdez x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #leo valdez fanfic #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfic #leo valdez drabble #cynwrites

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Did I buy a silver white lace front wig so I can parade around my house like a Targaryen? Yes. Was it the best purchase I've ever made? Also yes. Have absolutely loved the theories and messages and memes you have all sent through, still cackling at the divorce rock! Enjoy <3

Chapter 62: A good day

Returning to your shared chambers, you found Aemond had returned at long last. And not a single greeting or word was spent on you. He was leant over the table as he wrote quietly upon some parchment. A large tome lay open in front of him, and he did not turn his head to greet you as you entered, too enraptured by his quill.

You watched his long, slender fingers dragging the quill across the page, ink drawing neatly beneath it. You shut the door behind you softly and moved slowly across the room, craning your head to see what he was writing.

“Enjoying yourself?” Aemond drawled, not taking his eye away from the page. 

You had no care to start an argument, nor the fire to snip back at him.

Today had been a good day.

You straightened your back as you moved away from your creeping and towards the window, perching upon the ledge to look out at the setting sun, watching the sky turn a soft purple.

A purple that reminded you of Helaena’s eyes. 

She seemed to be everywhere with you today.

“I saw a beetle today.” You thoughtlessly spoke, not bothering to see if Aemond was listening. 

He was. 

He had lifted his head from the parchment and brought his gaze to you.

“It was the brightest green you would ever see, and beneath its wings, it had these pearly ones that shimmered.” You reminisced, smiling. 

“Helaena had one, exactly the same, land on her during the union celebrations. And today, one came to land with me.” Your voice got quieter the more you spoke. 

This was the most you had said in some time. 

The most you had said that wasn’t a quip or a snarl, a sneer or demand. Instead it was simply an observation. The most simple of observations at that. A beetle, that was all it was, a small green beetle, and yet that tiny little bug would have never known the change it had brought to you. 

“Helaena would have liked it.” Aemond’s voice carried across the chambers to you gently.

You smiled as you looked out at the water. 

“She would have.”

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond watched as you smiled out at the water and could not help but feel a twinge in his chest as he thought of his sister. She was too pure for a world filled with such cruelty, and so it had become too much for her to bear. He was gladdened, in some ways, that she would not be there to witness the horrors of today. To have witnessed his cruelty fester inside of him. To bear the brunt of Aegon’s rising drunkenness, and their mothers disregard. 

At least Helaena could no longer feel pain and was now at peace.

“The sky looks like her eyes.” You whispered, and Aemond stood, pushing the chair back slowly as he placed his quill in its holder. 

You listened, without fear, as he walked towards you, standing at your side as he looked out at the ocean. The sky was a light purple, the colour of fresh lavender or blooming wisteria in the spring. The sun lowered behind the horizon, and the soft purple began to deepen. 

“It does.” Aemond commented, as he looked out at the water beside you.

It was strange to have Aemond agree.

The fire between the both of you had calmed, and the embers had settled, and instead you were able to find peace in the space. Neither of you bickered, nor argued, snipped, nor snapped as you watched the sun set, and the sky darken into a deep blue. 

Aemond moved himself away from the window as the last of the evenings light had left, and nightfall had settled over the realm. You watched as he moved to tidy the table, collecting the parchment and quill to place it on a side table amongst the decanter of wine. 

You walked across the room as he moved back to collect the ink pot to place it with the others. Your eyes looked down at the tome that lay open on the table, skimming over the first line of the page that was open. 

‘Weirwoods that had stood for two hundred generations were cut down to provide rafters and beams in the construction of Harrenhal.’

Weirwoods were the tree that you sat beneath. The Godswood was what you had grown to call it, though you knew the small courtyard where it sat was the true Godswood. A place for those who followed the Old Gods to pray. 

But why were all those trees cut down?

Would that not bring about bad luck?

You knew that Harrenhal was said to be haunted or cursed, and as you read the page and thought of all those sacred trees being cut and placed inside of the old castle, it came as no surprise that perhaps the castle of Harrenhal truly was cursed.

‘King Harren soon came to know that thick walls and high towers are small use against dragons, for dragons fly. Aegon the First flew down on the mighty Balerion and-‘

Aemond pulled the tome towards him and away from you as he closed it to place it on the side table with the others. He poured himself a goblet of wine, and then one for you, walking back over to hand it to you. You took the wine and sipped, looking at him as you fell into a comfortable quiet before the maids came to deliver your supper. 

You both ate together, not speaking, yet not arguing, with no tension between the two of you. It seemed that his days away had cooled his anger and spite, and your days alone had helped to cool yours. It was a civil meal, and you felt little urge to destroy the peace of the day. 

However, the peace between the both of you did little for the pain that ebbed within. A cramp crawled through your lower stomach, causing you to tense in pain and wriggle in your chair. You hid a grunt under the guise of clearing your throat, but it sounded more like a wince. Aemond’s eye lifted away from his plate and landed on your face as you grimaced, your cramps building as you continued to sit. 

“Whats wrong?” He asked, the tiniest hint of concern in his voice.

You met his eye across the table and shook your head almost in embarrassment. You looked back down at your plate as you answered him. 

“I have my… blood.” 

Aemond hummed, and you felt a blush crawl across your cheeks. 

“Is there anything that you need for your…” He trailed off.

“No, I am quite alright. I was just... not expecting it, is all.”

I was not expecting to be spared from a child.

I was not expecting to be free for another day.

I was not expecting to feel elation at the sight of my own blood.

Aemond's eye continued to watch you in scrutiny.

“Sometimes... Peppermint tea can help.” You added.

Perhaps he could have some sent to the chambers.

“Do you need milk of the poppy?”

You wanted to laugh, but held it in to not offend him.

“No, I am fine... Thank you.”

Aemond nodded and resumed his eating, and you continued with yours, trying to hold still in your chair as the pain intensified. How long had it been since you had last bled?

Aemond’s eye was caught by your movement, and suddenly stood from his chair, moving across the room to speak to the knight at the door. When he returned to the table and sat back down, he watched you closely. 

“I have sent for some tea.”

You did not expect that. 

Why had he sent for the tea?

Your lips parted in shock and you stumbled over your thoughts on what to say, instead settling on a small thank you, before resuming back to your meal. By the time you had finished eating, the maids had arrived to your chambers, tea in hand and helped to ready you for bed. They helped to undress you, and brushed your hair from your braids as you sat, and sipped on your peppermint tea. 

The tea sat warmly in your stomach, spreading comfort throughout your body, and soon you found that your cramps had grown duller. It gave you a comforting feeling too, it reminded you of your time with your mother back on Dragonstone.

A small, yet beautiful comfort.

By the time the maids had finished with the room, removing your plates and tidying the space, you had finished your tea and they had taken the empty cup and pot with them. You thanked them softly as they left, and they had bowed their heads to you. 

You missed Saria and Aella. 

Aemond already lay in bed, tucked beneath the sheets before you joined him. You crawled into the space beside him, and curled up on your side facing the wall. It was strange to have him back, it almost felt normal. But you still had this nagging anger and spite, nipping at the back of your head, which you pushed back down into the murky depths within you.

You had a good day today, and you weren't going to taint it.

You even felt a little bit more like yourself. 

Was this progress?

Aemond blew out the candles around you and a soft darkness fell across the room. You felt him shift in the bed behind you as he moved. You let your eyes close and felt yourself slowly relax as the both of you stilled in the bed.

Aemond shifted again, his body coming closer to yours as heat radiated off of his chest and onto your back. He was always so warm. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt him touch a shy hand to your shoulder before slowly trailing it down your arm, goosebumps rising in its wake, until his hand settled on the flesh of your hip.

His long fingers rubbed the chemise over your skin as he softly caressed you, each passing moment making his movements bolder. 

Do not react. 

He only becomes crueller when you react. 

Soft lips pressed themselves to the skin of your shoulder, Aemond's fingers dancing along the curve of your hip. A familiar warmth spread through your body as his hand slowly crawled across your front, fingers pulling the length of the chemise up. 

You grasped his wrist gently to stop him, your voice cracking as you spoke. 

“I have my blood, Aemond.” You whispered, hoping it would prevent his ministrations.

His lips pressed against your shoulder again as he hummed into your skin, his hand breaking free of your grip as they continued their task of revealing your core to him.

“Blood would not deter me.” He hummed.

And it didn’t. 

“Please, stop.” You begged, hoping your voice would convince him, but it hadn’t.

He pushed against your grip on his wrist, and you wriggled in his hold trying to move away from him. 

"Tepagon isse.” Give in, Aemond growled.

Your heart jumped in your chest, and your grip on his wrist faltered. 

Let him have his way. 

Let him do as he wished. 

Do not let him ruin your good day.

Endure it.

Endure it.

Aemond’s hand moved back towards the chemise, breaking free of your grip to grasp the thin material and pull it up your thighs. He pulled it over the soft curve of your hip, as his fingers moved down between your thighs. Aemond pressed another kiss to your shoulder, and you had to force yourself to breathe. 

Endure it. 

This was your fate. 

There was no running from this.

His long fingers came to skirt around the flesh of your thighs, running gently up and down them as he brushed your skin reverently. You squirmed beneath him as he continued to tease you. 

Why fight it? 

It would only make it worse. 

You had to endure.

Aemond’s fingers came to gently rub through the tuft of hair on your mound, tickling the skin before he moved a single finger to glide between your folds. You were already wet from your blood, and you cringed at the thought of the mess it would make. He rubbed between your folds up and down, your blood making you far more sensitive than you usually would be. You breathed jaggedly as he pressed against your bundle of nerves, swirling his finger as he mouthed against your shoulder, shiver rolling up your spine.

It was so tender. 

So full of love.

And it made your stomach do flips.

Was this what it could have been?

What should have been?

Aemond continued to swirl his finger around your bud, drawing soft pants from your lips as your hips bucked backwards into his lap. With a large hand, Aemond grasped your shoulder and rolled you so that your back was flat against the mattress. He leant over you, his hair falling around your face as he watched you writhe beneath him, his finger not slowing. He leant forward and placed a kiss to the corner of your lips, watching as you sighed when his finger pushed through your folds and into your heat. It was so sensitive, the pleasure was overwhelming.

Endure it.

There was no painful intrusion, no stinging or tearing, only the pleasurable stretch that it gave as he pushed into your welcoming folds, coming to brush against the soft spongey patch within. He found it quickly, and easily, as though he had memorised where it was, and soon began to rub against it. Your chest rose off of the bed as you whined, as Aemond moved to press his lips against yours finally. 

Endure.

You let him kiss you, and you kissed him back, chasing his lips. Today was a good day. You were not going to let him ruin it. You pushed down your disgust and shame, and let your body guide you through it. 

Endure.

He sped up his finger within, moving to slide in a second finger, guided by both your slick and your blood. He began to draw his hand in and out of you, palm brushing against your bud as you quietly moaned into his mouth. The coppery smell of your blood lingered in the air, and any lingering pain from your cramps disappeared to be replaced by the pleasure he brought you.

Aemond was being tender.

Kind.

Sweet, even.

It was about your pleasure and not his.

His attention was solely on you.

You could pretend this was normal. You could pretend that this was real love. You could pretend that nothing had happened. And you would. You would pretend, and let him have his way with you, and you would bask in the glow of pleasure he brought you, and the peace your submission gave.

Endure and enjoy.

Aemond's lips were so soft against yours, his tongue swiping to gain entrance into your mouth, softly licking into you as your hands gripped the sheets below, desperate to ground yourself from the steadily rising pleasure.

The coil within wound itself tighter, and tighter, as his fingers moved through your folds, his lips parting from yours so he could turn his eye to watch his hand disappearing into your heat. 

A long groan fell from his parted lips as he watched your slick folds pulling him in, mouth opening as he sighed a heavy breath. You dared to let yourself look down, watching as his fingers plunged into your heat, coated in your blood.

You had thought that the sight would have made you ill, that the image of your blood upon him in your most intimate area again would bring back memories of your wedding, but it didn’t. Instead a wave of arousal burnt though you, and you threw your head back, hips chasing after his hand as he rapidly brought you to your peak. 

“So good. You’re doing so good for me.” Aemond purred, watching your face scrunch up as you tried to hold in your noises, “Let go for me, let me see you.” His fingers pulled out and moved up to your bud, rubbing fast circles around it, drawing almost painful pleasure from you.

“Oh…fuck.” You gasped, back arching off of the bed as the coil within you snapped.

Blinding white hot pleasure coursed through your veins as he brought you to your peak.

Your core fluttered as you came, Aemond’s fingers swiftly dipping back into your heat as he prolonged your release, thrusting his fingers in and out of you with speed, the chambers filled with the lewd sounds of your wetness.

"Sȳz zaldrītsos.” Good, He murmured coming to press his lips against you, his fingers overstimulating you as you writhed beneath him, desperate to get away. 

“Arlī.” Again, Aemond purred, thrusting his fingers into you faster. 

Your eyes shot open, finding Aemond looking down at you, pupil blown wide as he breathed heavily, fingers fucking into your heat. Your hand came to grip his wrist, trying to slow him or have him remove them as you felt your second release building quicker than the first, and painfully. 

“Kostilus, Aemond. Kostan daor.” Please Aemond, I can’t, You whined softly, pleading him with your eyes, hips trying to pull away from him. 

“Kesā.”

You will.

His fingers pulled out to rub against your pearl, and the coil snapped again. Your release was pulled out of you so quickly you cried out, eyes scrunching shut as he ripped each and every wave of pleasure from you. Your hips jerked and twitched beneath him, until finally his hand slowed, fingers moving to rub through your folds as you came down, a small tear leaking from the corner of your eye and down to the pillow.

Your mind was hazy, and your body felt heavy, eyes staying shut as you slumped below him against the bed. He had pulled the life from you, body twitching with after pulses.

Aemond let out a breathy chuckle beside you, pulling his hand free of the mess between your thighs. His lips came to press the side of your face where the tear had escaped, capturing it with a gentle kiss.

The bed moved and the weight of his arm and hand left your body. The Prince pulled his slickened fingers up to his lips, licking your release and blood from the digits as he hummed. You could hear the sound of his tongue lapping at the wetness from above, and you kept your eyes shut.

Your core strummed from overstimulation. You felt like you were floating and sinking all at once. It was the most powerful release you had ever had.

Would it always feel this good?

“Gevie.” Beautiful, He whispered, eye still on your tired form.

Aemond's hand came to brush the hair away from your face, fingers tickling the skin. You huffed beneath him.

“Īlē vēttan syt nyke.” You were made for me.

Your eyes were too tired to open, and Aemond was content to stay looking down at you. He made no move to lay atop of you, nor did he move to touch you again. Instead, your husband let his fingers come to trail around your thighs softly, causing you to twitch from the tickling sensation.

You had done it. 

You had endured it. 

And you were okay.

You were safe.

But was it really enduring it if you enjoyed it?

Would he always be this gentle if you let him have you?

Sleep began to pull you down as you laid in the bed, your two releases having completely sucked any, and all energy from you. You just wished to rest. And Aemond let you. Though his fingers still trailed around your thighs, never quite returning to your centre, whilst he leant on an elbow looking down at you. 

You were sure you looked a mess, covered in your own slick and blood, hair messy and tussled from writhing in the bed, and yet Aemond continued to coo praise at you, and slowly you drifted away to sleep. His voice still whispering out into the chambers as he watched you. 

“Iksi lanta hen keskydoso,” We are two of the same, "Vējes ondoso se Jaes.” Fated by the Gods, His voice became further and further away as you drifted to sleep.

“Ziry ūndan ziry, zaldristos.” She saw it, little dragon. 

“Lanta rōvēgrie zaldrīzes perzyssy, hēnkirī hae mēre. Spool hen kasta, spool hen zōbrie. Iā rōvēgrie ropagon naejot letagon lanta hubon. Vējes naejot zālagon hēnkirī.” 

Two great dragon flames, together as one. 

Spool of green, spool of black. 

A great fall to tie two threads. 

Fated to burn together.  

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #hotd smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #dark!aemond #dark!fic #fic #series #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond #smoke fire and ash

[wingedblooms]

Secret, slumbering land

This meta is a continuation of theories (forbidden secrets, blooming dreams, bright as the dawn, and heart of the night court) about Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land. This new thread focuses on the gentle healing land and lake that the sisters visit in their stories. Maasverse spoilers below, so please proceed with caution.

It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. (acosf)

Both Feyre and Nesta visit a turquoise lake nestled in the mountains. Because their description is the same, this theory operates on the assumption that it is the same place. And since things come in threes in this series, Elain may visit this magical lake in her own story. When I reread the scenes with previous visits, I was struck by the language Sarah used to describe it—secret, slumbering, forgotten—and the clues those words might hold for Elain and Wyrd, the Stone Mother.

Secret

During the first visit to this lake, Azriel teaches Feyre to fly and shares their court philosophy on training, which is connected to a legend about Nephelle (more on that later). During this scene, Azriel is bathed in blinding sunlight and his shadows are gone. His appearance is stark and clear, readable.

In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, his face stark and clear. More human than I had ever seen him. “There’s no chance that I’ll be able to fly in the legions, is there?” I asked, kneeling beside him as he tended to my skinned palms with expert care and gentleness. The sun was brutal against his scars, hiding not one twisted, rippling splotch. (acowar)

@offtorivendell connected his appearance to the bonus chapter ages ago, and it is still one of my favorite metas. In that bonus chapter, we learn Azriel’s shadows are also prone to vanish around Elain.

Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around.  The golden necklace seemed ordinary—its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of colors would become visible.  A thing of secret, lovely beauty. (Azriel’s bonus) 

He tells us he doesn't need to rely on his shadows to read her, so his deep trust and vulnerability might be the only explanation for his shadows' behavior, but they can also sense power and respond to it as power themselves. For example, if someone's power is related to music, they might sing or dance in response. What power, other than the revealing light of Truth, might cause them to vanish?

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.  The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. (Azriel’s bonus) 

The Faelight reveals Elain's secret, lovely beauty: she glows like the sun at dawn. What do we know about dawn? In nature, dawn restores the light and awakens the earth. In the Maasverse, it is also associated with healing magic. And when we return to the lake in Nesta’s story, we learn it was once connected to healing. Healing light is bright and warm like the dawn; it has the power to pierce the darkness and outrace Death itself. It is pure life in its rawest form.

Sarah has repeatedly connected Elain to rebirth and renewal, especially in relation to Azriel: in his presence, she's the lovely fawn, vibrant spring behind her. Standing before Death. Even the headache tonic, a lighthearted remedy, serves as potential hint for this secret, lovely beauty: 

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.  I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant,” Cassian said.  Elain smiled again, ducking her head.  Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.” (acofas) 

Elain’s gift awakens life, veins of emerald, in the earthy brown and gray within his soul, just as she does in her own garden. It is no coincidence that Elain, who is most radiant in healing hues, glows like the sun at dawn in the dead of night. And Azriel is stark and clear before her just as he is about to finally allow himself a taste of pure life, of healing. In the wake of Elain’s healing presence, we even glimpse Azriel’s emotional scars through his internal dialogue. On healing journeys, lingering scars are faced and overcome rather than avoided. Some wounds require deep trust as the healer, patient as a gardener, walks the road with them on that journey. 

Slumbering

On our second visit to the lake, we learn the surrounding land is inhabited by ordinary faeries who prefer solitude. This immediately made me think about Elain, content and beautiful in her simple gardening dress, and Feyre’s comment about her clinging to Azriel for some peace and quiet. It would be fitting for them to come here in their story, to find joy and love and healing here together. And if I were to hand select a place for Rosehall, where someone like Azriel's mother could find solitude and healing, this would be it.

He knew these mountains well enough from flying over them for centuries: shepherds lived here, usually ordinary faeries who preferred the solitude of the towering green and brownish-black stones to more populated areas. The peaks weren’t as brutal and sharp as those in Illyria, but there was a presence to them that he couldn’t quite explain. Mor had once told him that long ago, these lands had been used for healing. That people injured in body and spirit had ventured to these hills, the lake they were now two and a half days from reaching, to recover. Perhaps that was why he’d come. Some instinct had remembered the healing, felt this land’s slumbering heart, and decided to bring Nesta here. 

-

She’d never seen such a view. It seemed like a secret, slumbering land that time had forgotten. […] The mountains watched her, the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake. (acosf)

The mountains here aren't brutal and sharp, but they still have a powerful presence. Like the third sister. The mountains watched Nesta like a protective seer, and the river sang to her, as if guiding her onward to that lake, like Elain’s scent. Her scent is a sparkling river, a promise of spring, that guided Nesta to her. And what did Nesta find when she reached the source of that scent? Elain’s sharp angles, once like the Illyrian mountains after she was Made, were now replaced with softness. She glowed with health and her smile was bright as the sun. She also smells of jasmine and honey, which are soothing scents and herbs that have healing properties. 

Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber. Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court. Gone were the sharp angles, replaced by softness and elegant curves. […] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health. Elain’s smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf) 

In the span of a few pages, we're also told twice that this land is slumbering. Since it was once used for healing, it would make sense for healing magic to be at the core of its slumbering heart. Remember, the rawest form of healing magic is pure life and we just learned that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, was once blossoming with pure life. Elain’s wyrdcrown seems to mirror Stone Mother's creative powers in the form of sleeping buds:

She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)

This imagery of Elain’s power has always reminded me of the darkness of creation and rest Yrene receives guidance from while she bathes in Silba’s Womb, which she calls the slumbering heart of the earth. In the tog series, Silba was the goddess of healing and gentle deaths and Elain shares many connections with the healers who honor her. So, it’s possible slumbering simply means the land reflects the restful and restorative healing power of those who once lived on and fed the magic of the land. 

Slumbering or sleeping can also indicate dormant magic, which is something we’ve seen in both tog and cc. In tog, Dorian has raw magic and he can shape it into different things—phantom hands, shifting, healing, etc. His raw magic is sleeping in his heart before he explores it. 

“You have power in you, Prince. More power than you realize.” She touched his chest, tracing a symbol there, too, and some of the court ladies gasped. But Nehemia’s eyes were locked on his. “It sleeps,” she whispered, tapping his heart. “In here. When the time comes, when it awakens, do not be afraid.” She removed her hand and gave him a sad smile. “When it is time, I will help you.” With that, she walked away, the courtiers parting, then swallowing up her wake. He stared after the princess, wondering what her last words had meant. And why, when she said them, something ancient and slumbering deep inside him had opened an eye. (com)

We recently learned the Asteri poisoned the waters in Midgard with a parasite to feed off of the magic of its citizens. This parasite warped their magic and it is described as dormant and tethered as a result:

The Asteri had infected the water we consumed with a parasite. They’d poisoned the lakes and streams and oceans. The parasites burrowed their way into our bodies, warping our magic. (hofas) - Somehow, a barrier had been removed. One that had ordered him to stand down, to obey … It was nothing but ashes now. Only dominance remained. Untethered. But filling the void of that barrier with a rising, raging force— (Ithan’s magic, hofas) - Tharion withdrew. Lidia shook with rage and power. Tharion could feel it shuddering around him, rising up like a behemoth from the deep. What had that antidote woken in her? What had been taken during the Drop? And what had lain dormant, all this time? His water seemed to quail at it—like it knew something he didn’t. (Lidia’s magic, hofas) - Warm, bright magic answered. Healing magic, rising to the surface as if it had been dormant in his blood. He had no idea how to use it, how to do anything other than will it with a simple Save him. […] He willed that lovely, bright power to keep healing Ketos, though. (Ruhn’s magic, hofas)

Similarly, the Asteri pooled and imbued their magic in Wyrd to warp her purely creative magic. 

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. (hofas) - Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” (hofas)

Is it possible Elain’s sleeping buds, as a mirror of Wyrd’s original magic, represent what remains dormant, tethered?

“Or maybe it’s dormant, as the Cauldron is now asleep and safely hidden in Cretea with Drakon and Miryam. Her power could rise at any moment.” A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

In the scene above, Cassian and Rhysand are discussing Nesta’s powers. We learn that they aren’t dormant, which makes sense; they seem to represent the magic that the Asteri imbued into Wyrd to become a tool of death and destruction. That magic might be feeding off of Wyrd’s creative powers like a parasite and keep her half-awake, like the Fae in Midgard and, perhaps, the healing land: 

It was all so still, yet watchful, somehow. As if she were surrounded by something ancient and half-awake. As if each peak had its own moods and preferences, like whether the clouds clung to or avoided them, or trees lined their sides or left them bare. Their shapes were so odd and long that they looked as if behemoths had once lain down beside the rivers, pulled a rumpled blanket over themselves, and fallen asleep forever. (acosf)

Ancient, half-awake, behemoth. These terms are also used to describe Wyrd. The word behemoth in particular is associated with a primordial chaos monster in mythology and may be yet another potential hint that Chaos is Hel’s name for Wyrd.

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

-

As they walked up those steps and entered a space that was a near-mirror to temples back home—indeed, its layout was identical to the last temple Hunt had stood in: Urd’s Temple. […] “The Temple of Chaos is a sacred place,” Apollion said sharply. “We shall never defile it with violence.” The words rumbled like thunder again. (hofas)

-

But the Cauldron. As if some great sleeping beast opened an eye. The Cauldron seemed to sense us watching. Sense us there. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, and I believe Wyrd saw Elain as a kindred spirit and gifted her the language of creation with the hope that she could be the key to her freedom, her healing in body and spirit. Those original creative powers could include a deep connection with the earth (earth magic), divine sense (seer abilities), fluid form and movement (travel and shifting), and healing, pure life and world-building power. Elain might already be testing the boundaries of that creative magic, learning to shape it into different things (explaining her mysterious appearances).

Elain may also need to bring her sisters together to help Wyrd. They represent the three faces of the Mother together and have been marked by her from the beginning of the series. When Feyre physically healed the Cauldron with the help of Rhysand, she cupped her hands and became the first face of the Mother. Nesta became the second face of the Mother when she healed Feyre and Nyx with the Trove. And the healing lake appears to hint at Elain's role, the third face of the Mother:

Nesta cleared the hill that Cassian had mounted ahead, and a sparkling, turquoise lake spread before them. It lay slightly sunken between two peaks, as if a pair of green hands had been cupped to hold the water within them. Gray stones lined its shore. (acosf)

This is our first earthen depiction of the Stone Mother. Someone with green fingers or a green thumb is skilled at gardening. Gardeners provide gentle order to pure, blossoming life with their green hands. And we already know, thanks to Rhys and Feyre, that Elain won’t hesitate to get her hands dirty—stained green, even—for a pretty result. 

When Elain's creative magic rises in her story, will it flow like a sparkling river, unfurl like a bloom, to awaken the soul of the earth? Could it soothe Azriel’s icy rage and bring true spring and healing to Ramiel, softening its sharp angles when its heart, Wyrd, is finally restored? Only time will tell.

Forgotten

The land is also described as a place time had forgotten and, as I mentioned earlier, it's where Azriel shared the story of Nephelle—the one who had been passed over, who had been forgotten—while he tended to Feyre's wounds after a fall during flying practice.

Nephelle, who had been passed over, who had been forgotten…She outraced death itself. […] And yet her too-small wingspan, that deformed wing…they did not fail her. Not once. Not for one wing beat. (acowar)

Nephelle wanted to be a warrior, but was turned away due to her small wingspan. So, she made herself indispensable as a cartographer and excelled at finding the most geographically advantageous positions for their armies. And now that hofas has been released, we know earth magic can be used to locate the best geographical locations:

…those with earth magic were sent ahead to scout lands [...] Not only the best geographical locations, but magical ones, too. They could sense the ley lines—the channels of energy running throughout the land, throughout Midgard. They told the Asteri to build their cities where several of the lines met, at natural crossroads of power, and picked those places for the Fae to settle, too. But they selected Avallen just for the Fae. To be their personal, eternal stronghold.” (hofas)

Those with earth magic are deeply connected to the land and their creative power flows freely in places where the natural magic in the land is untethered. Is it possible Nephelle excelled at finding the best locations because she possessed earth magic? And could that come into play in the next story if Elain possesses earth magic as part of her creative powers?

Despite being perceived as weak, Nephelle outraced death itself with her small wingspan to save Miryam. Her miraculous rescue inspired the Night Court's philosophy toward training: 

I raised a brow. Azriel shrugged. “We—Rhys, Cass, and I—will occasionally remind each other that what we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength. And that the most unlikely person can alter the course of history.”  “The Nephelle Philosophy.” (acowar) 

We saw this philosophy in action at the final battle with Hybern when Elain raced against death itself and appeared out of nowhere with Truth-Teller to protect her family. Like Nephelle, she was and still is passed over, forgotten.

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. (Nesta's memory of Mama Archeron, acosf)

-

"Go back to Feyre and your little garden." (Nesta to Elain, acosf)

-

Elain said, "Then I will find it. I might require some time to...reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today." "Absolutely not," Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. "Absolutely not." "Why?" Elain demanded. "Shall I tend to my little garden forever?" When Nesta flinched, Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." "Then go off on adventures," Nesta said. "Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron." (Elain and Nesta's exchange, acosf)

-

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court…It sucked the life from her. (Cassian's observation, acosf)

These quotes hit differently with the release of hofas. @offtorivendell and @willowmeres seem to be on track with their theories that the warped magic of Hewn City affected Elain's creative magic. What if she reflects the magic of the land around her, and when that magic is warped or tethered, her physical appearance mirrors it? Is this another sign she will be able to use the language of creation to unearth Prythian’s secrets, forgotten by time? And maybe, like the legendary Nephelle, the things that Elain is viewed as weak for—her little garden, a symbol of her care for and connection to the land, and her appearance, a reflection of what was forgotten—actually become her family's biggest strength.

#hofas spoilers #elain archeron #maasverse theory #the language of creation #wyrd and her sacred land #the healing lake and land #secret slumbering forgotten #where Rosehall is tucked away #azriel shadowsinger #elriel #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #three faces of the mother #marked by wyrd #wyrd = cauldron mother fate #she is the stone mother #nephelle 🤝 elain #the nephelle philosophy #our greatest weakness can be our biggest strength

[callmissrogers]

There You Are Sweetheart. | Steve Rogers x Reader One Short.

Summary: Y/n just wanted to bring her sister a package. What she didn't expect was being picked on by two soldiers or being rescued by a handsome stranger.

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 1,909

Warnings: fluff and some goofiness. Y/n does get harassed by some jerks, but nothing happens. Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: very minimal editing and gold stars to anyone who catches what this is a reference to.

It's beginning to feel like spring. The cherry blossoms have sprung into bloom, and Y/n has a date to bring her sister, Felicity, a package that was delivered to her house whilst Felicity was away. On the way there, her horrible sense of direction has her taking a wrong turn and into the pathway of some soilders on their lunch break. Will Y/N end up in some sort of trouble, or will someone dashing come to her rescue? Read to find out.

Hey! I'll be at on a coffee shop today at 3... Could you bring me my package then? It's a little hole in the wall place by all the fancy vintage stores you like.

Of course, Felicity would want to meet at a coffee shop. Y/n was positive her sweet younger sister couldn't survive even a couple of hours without a caffeine kick.

She looked around her office (which was really her apartment) for an excuse to stay in, but couldn't find any. All of the outfits that needed tailoring had already been tailored.

Plus, really, she hadn't seen her sister for a while, and they needed to catch up. Y/n just hated going out in the late afternoon. It meant that she'd likely be heading back during rush hour and would end up eating dinner late. If there was anything that y/n didn't appreciate, was having her routine messed up. . . She was well aware that she lived like a little old lady sometimes.

Closer to time, she got dressed in an outfit that was fit to be seen in. Her baby pink lounge set was incredibly comfortable for working long hours at home, but it was hardly a fashion statement.

The coffee shop in question was about 15 blocks away from her place, so she decided to walk. Admittedly, this probably wasn't the best idea in the world. Y/n has a tendency to get lost in her local grocery store.

So, with an earphone in one ear, she listened to her favorite oldies playlist, as life was better when it had a soundtrack and was on her way.

A few blocks down, she took a left down an alley that was its own hole in the wall. It held a bar favored by military members and directly across from that there was a karaoke pizza joint. Y/n always thought that made an odd coupling.

Tho, a part of her wondered if the college girls who favored the pizza place went there just for the chance of getting with an army man without any understanding of what military life was really like.

She was musing on this when two soldiers stepped out directly in front of her and thereby blocked her pathway.

"Um. Excuse me." She gasped, trying to get around them.

"Looks like this little mouse lost her way," one of them joked, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

She shook her head, "Oh no, I'm not lost."

The second soldier peered down at her with a grin on his face and then said, "This little mouse looks thirsty. We should take her to get a drink."

Y/n was beginning to get nervous, and she had no idea how she was going to get out of this situation. She had never had any issues cutting through here before, but now she was wishing she had taken the route that passed the pet store instead.

All she could think to say was, "No thanks, my sister is waiting for me." Hopping that by knowing she had some place to be that they would just leave her be.

But they just shared a glance, laughing to themselves before the one of the right replied with a "We've heard that excuse before." Then the one on the left winked at her and said, "She's actually pretty cute for a mouse."

His pal chuckled and then reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, "How old are you anyway? Live close by?"

Now they were both getting uncomfortably close, and y/n had a terrible vision about being stuck having to sit in this bar with them until they had gone from just tipsy to black out drunk.

"Leave me alone!" She tried to yell, but it came out as more of a loud statement.

"You see, your personality scares all the girls."So I think she's cuter when she's scared."

She was done for, body stiffening up, hands trembling, trying not to drop the package.

"There you are, sweetheart," someone said behind her. Only when someone tucked their arm around hers and pulled her from the soldiers' grasp did she realize that the stranger was talking to her.

But she certainly didn't know anyone who would call her that. That much she was sure of.

"I'm sorry I'm late." He said, gazing down at her. She had to crane her neck just to look him in the eye. He was a tall, blond headed man with strong features. His bright blue eyes bore into hers with concern.

Did she know this man? No. No, she did not. But all she could manage to do in response to his saving her from these two was to open and close her mouth repeatedly.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." Her rescuer continued acting like they knew each other. Not only knew each other but were in some sort of relationship.

Oh boy, was y/n's head spinning now.

"Hey man, we were just talking to your girl here." One of the soilders tried to explain.

Her rescuer looked at the pair and then said, "Really? It looked to me like you were trying to force a lady into drinks after she said no. Time to learn some boundaries, gentlemen. We'll be going." And then he gently led her up and out of the alleyway, only stopping once they were completely out of sight of the bar.

"Are you ok?" He asked, his head tilting to get a better look at her face. This man had to at least be 6"2, and he made y/n feel positively tiny.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "I will. I will never take that street again. That's for sure."I'm sorry that it did. Letting off steam is no excuse to treat a lady that way."

"Thank you. . . I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along like that." She said, pulling the hem of her cardigan sleeve.

"I was just doing what anyone should do in a situation like that,"

"But. Can I ask-- No nevermind." She mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

"No, no. Go on, please, " He encouraged, actually seeming eager to hear her out.

"Wh - why'd you pretend to be my boyfriend or something?" She asked, feeling really, really stupid.

Now he was blushing.

"To be honest, ma'am, it was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment." He said with a nervous laugh.

When her phone chimed, y/n pulled it out to see a text from Felicity.

where are you?

"Well, I thought it was smart. . . You're very much the gentlemen." She said with a smile, feeling much more relaxed than she had a moment ago.

He looked like he was about to say something when her phone chimed again

Beginning to freak out a bit, sis. Are you ok?

Y/n sighed, looking from the phone screen up to her rescuer. "I should... I should probably get going. My sister's getting worried about me."

"Where is it you're headed? If you don't mind me asking." He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. How was it possible for someone to look so at ease and yet so uncomfortable at the same time?

"She wanted to meet at a coffee shop a few blocks away from here." Y/n replied, adjusting her bag and trying to look anywhere but at him.

They made quite the pair.

After shifting from foot to foot for a moment, he said, "I could walk you."

Y/n didn't know why, but that small gesture made her smile in the biggest way.

"Really? You don't have to."Ah. Well, now I'm invested after all. I've been looking for you all day." He said, matching her smile. If she could read his mind right now, she'd know that he just congratulated himself for coming up with something that was smooth as a response

So he offered her his arm again, and the pair made their way to the coffee shop.

Meandering past store fronts and other businesses as they went.

"This is it." Y/n fianlly said, stopping in her tracks.

It was a coffee shop that looked like it hadn't aged for about 60 years.

"I love this side of town," He said as a response.

"Things feel a little more normal here." "More normal?" Y/n asked, not understanding what he meant by that statement.

"That would be a very long story that we don't have time for at the present moment." He said again, smiling down at her.

"Oh. I see." Y/n giggled at her own confusion. This man saved her, escorted her to meet her sister, and now adds some mystery to the mix.

"I'll let you go. Don't want to worry that sister of yours anymore." He said with a tip of his head and he started to walk away.

"Wait!" Y/n blurted, forgetting herself. He turned to face her again, judging by the expression on his face, he was surprised by her sudden outburst. Then his brows shot up as if to say, "Go on."

"What's -whats your name?" She asked, willing herself to hold onto this bold feeling long enough to get this out.

He smiled and then said, "Steve Rogers."

Y/n's eyes widened, and her boldness melted into total embarrassment. Perhaps she was drugged or something to be out of her mind enough to not realize she had been with not just some kind stranger off the street, but rather CAPTAIN AMERICA. And he had called her "sweetheart", even if he hadn't really meant it, he had still said it.

She would dream about that for the next month while she hemmed dresses.

"Miss. Miss!" Steve said, having come closer again to get her attention. Y/n jumped when she realized he was right in front of her.

"Sorry. I'm y/n y/l/n. "

"Well, y/n y/l/n," He said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a pocket notebook he scribbled something down and then gave it to her. "If you happen to be free this Friday night. There's a restaurant in this neighborhood. Very old timey, like me. . ." He said nervously, laughing again. "We could have a meal, I could tell you that story and I could learn more about you. I mean, aside from the fact that you have a sister and listen to 'Sh Boom' when you walk around the city."

He had noticed what she had been listening to?

All y/n could do was squeak a "yes." Before running back into the coffee shop and slamming the door in his face.

Felicity looked up in surprise, "What took you so long? Are you ok?"

Y/n sat down and, in one breath, said, "I think Captain America just asked me out on a date, and I said yes."

NOTE: I wrote this in one sitting, and at first, I thought it was sweet. Now, I think I might have actually made it corny. I'm going with it anyways but please let me know what you thought of it. Thanks!

Note 2: Part 3 of 'That's my Girl' will be coming out soonish keep an eye out!

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