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chloe-petrichors · 12 days

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seething, blooming // jace x reader

your father has always been something of an opportunist, but trying to marry you off to the blacks while he courts the greens? this is taking playing the game to a whole new level.

the rose discovers she is an instrument of war. —victor hugo.

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!tyrell!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon au (set after aegon takes the crown but before luke's death bc luke will never die in my eyes), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s), arranged marriage, mention parental death/death in childbed (reader's mother), love at first sight vibes, jace is a flirtatious little shit with his betrothed, tooth rotting fluff, love confessions. word count; 6k+ notes; one day i might write for another man. but that day is not today. jace velaryon u have my heart. i'm not majorly pleased w this fic but it's given me enough trouble and it's as good as it's gonna get! this was longer originally, and was meant to be a bit more political at first hence the blurb/quote choice, but i haaated some of the scenes so ended up scrapping 'em. she's not as long as predicted as a result but still an ok length i think. some of the scenes i scrapped were tragically the smut ones, so have this fairly pg one-shot with the promise of the smut-shot sitting in my drafts coming ur way soon. fair warning that the scrapping of scenes has fudged with the pacing a bit but honestly i can't take this fic sitting in my drafts any longer so here u go!! i have a taglist now, mostly cos eldrith keeps telling me i have to tag her in everything, so lmk if you'd like to be added to it! requests; are open !

the rising sun paints highgarden in shades of pink and gold.

you stand upon your balcony, finger curled loosely over the pale marble as you stare distantly out over the rolling green fields and blooming gardens. the faint bubbling of the river mander in the distance adds to the peaceful morning, the early wash of sunlight coaxing the sleeping world into life. a cool breeze carries the sweet smell of roses and you take a steadying breath, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your face up to the sun.

it's a morning that starts like many others. you’ve always risen from bed early, the slow blooming of morning stirring you from slumber more often than not. birds chirp and bees buzz and the river flows and you rise with it, like part of you calls to the breaking dawn.

if not for the thick sheaf of parchment discarded on your father’s desk, it could be a morning like any other. but the parchment is there, and this day will be like no other before it.

today, a dragon is expected at highgarden.

a targaryen has not stepped foot in the reach since before you were born. you don’t think even the princess rhaenyra – queen, now, according to some – had come this far on her marriage tour years ago. but your father has taken it upon himself to invite a prince to your home.

you love your father deeply, but in this you think he must be a fool. as lord paramount of the reach he is, in theory, the power of this kingdom. but anyone with a lick of sense knows that it’s the hightowers that the people look to; oldtown is home to the starry sept, the citadel and, perhaps more importantly, the dowager queen’s family line.

the tyrells have only been in power for a few generations, and people’s memories are long. too many know the truth of how house tyrell had been only a steward when the gardener kings had ruled before the conquest. and so too many see tyrell as a house grasping for power that should be beyond their fingers, and your father is apparently determined to prove them all right.

he’s been careful about his neutrality as war threatens to break out between the targaryen kin, brother and sister both claiming their right to the throne and the realm splitting down the middle. your father has not officially allied with either side, walking a careful tightrope to appease both. up until now you had assumed he sided more with the greens, but he’d sent your assumptions crumbling with only a few sheets of parchment.

your father has always been too ambitious for his own good.

gods, how you miss your mother. when she’d been alive, she’d tempered the worst of your father’s foolishness. she’d been a stark before she’d married, steadfast and sensible in the face of your father’s folly. she’d been a woman unlike any other you’ve known; ferocious and a little wild, but with a good heart and a warm smile for any she’d met.

she’d taught you how to be a lady, but so much more than that – she’d taught you to know your own mind. to know when to mind your tongue and when to speak, how to grow your roots so deep you will always stand tall, flourishing and growing like the most determined of flowers. she’d taught you a little of that northern ice, too, reminding you oft that for as much as you were a rose of highgarden you were equally a wolf of the north, and the wolf’s blood has always run thick in your veins.

she’d called you her little winter rose; delicate and steely and a rare bloom, indeed. she had loved you so fiercely you’d flourished with her tender care, just as the patch of winter roses she’d brought from the glass gardens of winterfell had bloomed ‘neath her careful ministrations. a piece of the north she’d brought south with her, a tiny bit of her home that she’d cradled and cared for until the day you’d lost her to the birthing bed.

your little brother is nearing six, now, and many moons have passed since the sudden grief of your mother had overwhelmed you. but, in recent days you have ached with her loss more often, wondering what she would think of your father’s plans, what she would say to soothe your storm of anxiety. with your looming marriage you find yourself missing your mother acutely, the grief a reopened wound in your chest.

because you are a betrothed woman, now, to be married to a stranger, a prince who is sure to be fighting a war against his kin in the moons to come.

the velaryon prince arrives on dragon back as the sun reaches its peak in the sky.

he dismounts his winged steed in an empty stretch of land a distance from the keep itself, and your father greets him there with a host of staff to accompany him back to the entrance courtyard.

your brother leo bounces in place beside you where you stand with the rest of the household in the courtyard, fairly vibrating with energy at the prospect of seeing a real-life dragon. since the news of the prince’s arrival was announced a sennight ago, leo has done little else but babble about dragons and magic and targaryens. you wish you could share his excitement, his sheer uncomplicated joy, but this visit comes with too many conflicting emotions for you to enjoy it at all.

you’ve always known you would not marry for love. you are the eldest child and only daughter of the lord of the reach – love has never been a factor you could afford to consider. you would do your duty and marry for your house, to seal whatever alliance your father deemed important enough. you’d resigned yourself to this fate as a young girl when your mother had told you in slow, halting words the fear she had felt coming south to marry your father.

but you’d not expected to marry a total stranger. you’d thought your father would at least do you the courtesy of allowing you to meet a suitor before betrothing you to them, but in his feverish ambition to sit his blood on the iron throne he’d promised you to a man you’ve never laid eyes upon.

you don’t want to be queen.

frankly, you think yourself a touch unsuited for it. your father has many times bemoaned your wildness, the wolfs blood that drives you to stubborn recklessness. though you’ve mellowed a little with age and experience, you think you’re still a bit too prone to chaos to be queen of the seven kingdoms one day. never mind the complexities added by the fact that queen rhaenyra’s claim is so fiercely contested, and her half-brother is the one currently physically sitting the iron throne.

thinking about the mess you’re marrying into too much makes your head ache, and the blazing noon sun does little to ease it. leo beside you continues to whisper rapidly about everything he knows about dragons, which is actually quite a lot considering his young age. you think absently you might need to have a word with the maester’s again; leo has wrapped most of the household around his finger, and the elderly maester is prone to indulging your brother when he fixates on a new topic of interest instead of sticking to his lessons.

the sound of hooves on cobble stones startles you from your meandering thoughts, and you straighten your spine as your eyes take in the unfamiliar man riding into the courtyard beside your father while your brother finally falls silent.

he’s handsome, at least; a tumble of dark curls brushing his shoulders, a sharp jaw and a strong nose. though you like to think yourself more than superficial, it eases at least some of your worries to know the prince is attractive to you. your mother had done you the courtesy of explaining what was expected of you on your wedding night after your first moons blood, and in secret since you’d perused the library for books detailing more lustful acts in an effort to satiate your unending curiosity.

you’re worried enough about completing your wifely duties without having to worry about finding the man lying with you repulsive, and so you allow yourself a few moments of relief at his pretty face.

your father dismounts first, gesturing for you to step forward as the prince gets down from his own horse. leo moves forward with you, eyes wide and shining with something akin to hero worship as he gazes at jacaerys. you have a wry thought that perhaps he should marry him since he is so clearly already enamoured, but you brush that aside as your father and the prince approach.

“i am most pleased to introduce my daughter, your grace, as well as my son and heir, leo,” your father says as they reach you, his satisfaction in his successful planning clear as he smiles smugly.

you dip into a perfect curtsey as leo bows a touch clumsily at your side. as heir it would traditionally be leo’s job to greet the prince, but when you send him a sidelong glance you see he is too busy making moon eyes at the darkhaired man to say anything, and so you take it upon yourself to speak.

“welcome to highgarden, my prince. we are honoured to host you,” you greet, finally meeting jacaerys’s eyes. they’re a warm amber shade, the noon sun turning them to liquid honey as he looks at you, and you feel your cheeks flush with the appreciation you can see in his gaze as he drinks you in. it seems he does not find you repulsive either, at least.

he sketches a quick bow, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel your heart start to race in your chest at his attention. “it is an honour to be here, my lady, and to finally make your acquaintance.” he smiles at you then, small and a little crooked but there, and your flush deepens. “i look forward to getting to know you better in the coming days.”

you swallow, hoping your budding attraction is not as obvious as you fear it is. your father is looking increasingly smug as he watches the interaction, though it seems to war with some paternal annoyance as jacaerys lightly flirts with you.

“and i you,” you return softly, a smile quirking on your lips.

“—can i meet your dragon?” leo bursts out, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, and jacaerys blinks down at him in surprise as you resist the urge to press your palm to your face.

“leo,” you scold immediately as your father chortles at his heir’s enthusiasm for dragons. “the prince has had a long journey. you should give him a chance to settle in before demanding anything of him.”

“right you are, my dear.” your father waves to the household steward before turning to the prince. “alyn will show you to your rooms, your grace, so that you might freshen up, and then we have a feast prepared for this evening to welcome you to highgarden.”

jacaerys nods easily as the greeting crowd begins to disperse, the maester corralling leo to take him for his lessons with fond exasperation even as the boy loudly protests. you mean to go walk the gardens, and so you stay standing in place as the prince trails after your father and steward alyn.

he pauses beside you, though, a slight smile on his face as you look up at him questioningly. your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his face, and it takes a moment for you to process his words. “i look forward to speaking to you further at the feast, my lady.”

you smile back at him, cheeks flushing once again as his eyes linger on your mouth for a breathless moment. “i shall save you a dance, my prince,” you return a touch coyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“only one dance?” he teases, eyebrow arching.

you hum, head tilting to the side in mock consideration as something like satisfaction gleams in jacaerys’s eyes. “i shall have to use the first dance to judge your dancing skills, your grace, before i risk promising you another.”

he laughs then, a little surprised but no doubt pleased as his eyes crinkle with his wide smile. “then i shall do my best to meet your standards, my lady.” he dips into a quick bow of farewell, then, as you finally take note of your father lingering on the steps to the keep with raised eyebrows.

“we shall see,” you return as you curtsey.

you allow yourself a moment to watch his retreating back, eyes dragging over the strong line of his shoulders before you internally shake yourself and head to the gardens, thoughts swimming with honey brown eyes and tanned, freckled skin and a slow dawning certainty that while this betrothal may be unexpected, you doubt it will leave you unsatisfied.

the feast is in full swing by the time the prince arrives at the hall.

the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune as couples twirl on the dance floor. you sit at the head table with leo and your father, watching with a careful eye as your brother cuts up his food. he’s only just mastered the art of eating his food without spilling half if it down his doublet, but as distracted as he is by the festivities and the prospect of seeing a dragon close up, you worry he’s at risk of making a mess of himself regardless.

so absorbed in your task you are, it takes a long moment for you to realise jacaerys has arrived. it’s only when your skin prickles with awareness that you look up from leo and catch sight of the prince winding his way across the floor to the head table, eyes fixed on you. your head tilts to the side slightly as you watch him move, graceful and controlled, through the crowd.

he’s in black and red again, just as he had been when he’d arrived. it seems your father had been right when he’d stated that jacaerys favours his mother’s house colours. you smooth your hand over the skirts of your dress, the deep wine-red of the material feeling less out of place now, before standing with your father to greet the prince.

you all exchange pleasantries quickly as the noise in the hall dims, people realising the prince has arrived. your father ushers jacaerys into the empty seat between you and your father as he raises his goblet to the hall before speaking in his booming voice.

you don’t pay attention to your father’s speech, too aware of the warmth radiating from jacaerys who stands only inches from you to focus. you risk a glance at him from the corner of your eyes only to find his dark honey eyes fixed on you, and you cannot help but smile to yourself even as you flush, turning your eyes back to the crowd.

rousing applause and cheers draw you back to the moment, and you catch yourself in time to raise your wine in toast with your father. you go to sit back down as the crowd returns to its revelries, but the soft brush of a hand on your arm halts your movement. you turn expectingly to the prince, a soft smile on your lips.

“yes, your grace?”

“would you do me the honour of a dance, my lady?”

your lips quirk into a sly smile even as you bob your head in a nod. “i suppose i did promise you one, did i not?”

“that you did, my lady, and i have thought of nothing else since.” dark honey eyes sparkle with mirth as he offers you his hand, and with a quiet giggle you take it and allow him to lead you to the dance floor.

you feel the heat of his hand on your waist like a brand even through the layers of your dress, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. you inhale deeply in an effort to steady yourself as you rest your palm on his strong shoulder, and are immediately overwhelmed by the woodsy scent of him as he claps your hand in his and begins to dance.

you start the dance in comfortable silence, both of you taking a few moments to get a feel for the other and settle into the steps, and when you feel comfortable enough you speak.

“how are you finding highgarden, prince jacaerys?”

“jace, please,” he entreats, and elaborates only when you blink at him in confusion. “my friends and family call me jace, not jacaerys. we are to be married, my lady. it would please me a great deal for my future wife to refer to me as such.”

you nod in acceptance, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his eager expression. “jace it is, then,” you say, and try not to feel the way your heart flutters at his radiant smile in response. “although you have not answered my question. how are you finding highgarden?”

he hums, twirling you as the dance requires and then pulling you closer before responding. “your father has been very hospitable, and it is certainly beautiful here. the grounds especially, though i’m afraid i’ve not had the opportunity to see much of them as yet.”

“a shame we shall have to rectify, i think.” you offer him a small smile as you press just an inch closer, finding yourself wanting to be nearer him. “perhaps i could show you the gardens on the morrow?”

“yes,” he agrees a touch too quickly, and you giggle as his cheeks turn pink. “that is to say— i should like that very much, my lady. very much indeed.”

you lapse into silence once more as the dance reaches its crescendo, and you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of his hands as the music pauses while the minstrels ready their next song.

jace seems to share the sentiment, it seems, as his eyes linger on your entwined hands for a long moment before returning to your face. “have i met your standards enough for another dance, then?”

you take a moment to pretend to consider it, eyes narrowing slightly as you hum. he shuffles on his feet as he waits for your response, and you find the nervous motion far too endearing.

“i suppose so,” you concede after a moment, grinning at his smugly pleased smile as he tugs you closer.

“and what about the dance after that?” he asks lightly, something cheeky in his eyes as the music starts up again and he sweeps you along the floor.

“you should not press your luck, jace,” you say imperiously, although the effect is rather ruined by the silly smile on your face as he laughs with you.

jacaerys smirks. “my lady, since meeting you, i have felt nothing but a lucky man.”

you smother a snort, shaking your head at his unrepentant expression. “you are incorrigible.” it comes out a touch exasperated and yet far too fond.

“yes,” the prince agrees readily, a sly twinkle in his eyes. “but i think you rather enjoy it.”

your startled laugh is loud, though thankfully not so loud as to be heard over the minstrels. “perhaps.”

after that, the night is lost to flirtatious banter and dance after dance in your betrothed’s arms as a seed of affection is planted deep in your heart. and when you wake in the morning after dreaming of nothing but jace’s lips and eyes and words, you can think only one thought;

gods, i am in so much trouble.

time passes in a slow trickle of syrupy summer heat.

as the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in jace’s company. you’re always chaperoned, of course, a household guard following at a respectful distance wherever the two of you choose to roam. you find the whole thing a touch ridiculous; jace is to be your husband. it’s hardly like spending time together alone would be a significant scandal in light of your impending marriage, but your father insists there will be no doubts about your honour before the marriage actually takes place and so ser dickon is assigned as your reluctant shadow.

the date of the wedding itself remains unset as you and jace start to know one another. your father wishes for the marriage to wait until the war is done – a last-ditch chance to keep his options open, perhaps. Or, if you are feeling generous, a way to try and keep you safe from the greens when war inevitably rages. jace’s mother wishes the marriage to happen as soon as can be arranged – a way to try and ensure further heirs with the uncertainty of war looming, you assume.

you find yourself hoping the queen’s will wins the day as time creeps on. jace becomes ever dearer to you the more you learn about him, and soon you think of your impending marriage with nothing but hope and warm desire.

because oh, how you want him. from the first moment you’d laid eyes upon him you’d been attracted to him, but the more you get to know him, the more your heart opens to him – the more you ache for him. for his mouth on yours, his fingertips on your skin, his voice in your ear. if you were a less reckless woman, a little less shameless, you’d be embarrassed of how easily you think of him in your moments apart.

but late at night when the candles burn low and you are alone in your bed, there is no shame to be found, only the wildness of your wolfs blood and liquid heat as your hand drifts between your legs and you find completion with your betrothed’s name on your lips.

beyond the desire, though, is a slow blooming affection. it feels like every time you learn something new about him or share a new experience together, another petal of tenderness unfurls in your chest. when your father had first told you about your betrothal, you’d not dared to hope for more than civility with your husband-to-be, but now you find yourself harbouring deep fondness on top of steadily burning desire, and you look to your future as his wife with little else but excitement.

you’re not sure if jace feels the same. you don’t doubt he desires you; his flirtation and the weight of his gaze on your form is too frequent a thing for you to think otherwise. but desire is not the same as affection, and though you hope desperately that the way he always seeks your presence whenever he steps into a room means what you want it to mean, you can’t be sure.

after a week passes, you both start to chafe at the relentless presence of ser dickon. it feels like every time you so much as think about inching closer to jacaerys, ser dickon is there with his stern glare of disapproval. and so, when one morning jace suggests taking you to meet his dragon, alone, you are quick to agree.

you leave your guard long behind at jace’s instruction; he doesn’t want vermax crowded with strangers, he explains, but you personally think he seems a little too gleeful at the idea of being alone with you for that to be sole reason behind his insistence ser dickon stays far away. you don’t say anything since you’re equally pleased to finally be spending some time with your betrothed without feeling others curious eyes on you.

your excitement starts to waver, however, as you and jace get closer to his dragon. you’ve only seen vermax from a distance before this, and though it perhaps shouldn’t the size of him startles you. he’s just so large and fierce looking, the sharp spines on his back catching your eye. the beast yawns as you slow to a stop, jace sending you a quick smile before he continues on to greet his dragon with fondness, and the glimpse into vermax’s open maw – gods, there as so many teeth – has your palms starting to sweat.

jace stands beside his dragon, murmuring soothing words in high valyrian that you don’t understand as his hand smooths along his snout. your heart races in your chest, nerves making your hands shake when faced with this great beast. you curse your reckless curiosity, your northern stubbornness that makes it impossible for you to refuse a challenge. you have no idea how jace can look so at ease, the line of his shoulders relaxed and the slightest smile on his face as he talks to his winged steed, but there he stands.

“you can come closer now.” he turns to you, brown eyes shining with excitement and, yes, a hint of challenge.

he expects you to back out, you think, and that realisation has you straightening your spine and pressing your lips together. you twist your fingers in your skirts to hide the way they tremble as you step cautiously forward, eyes darting from jace to vermax and back. when you’re within touching distance of the velaryon prince, he reaches for your hand. the shock of his bare skin against yours arrests you for a moment, the slide of calloused fingers around your wrist startling in how easily it sparks desire in you.

you’re so distracted by the feel of him that you don’t realise until it’s too late that jace has tugged you closer, guiding your hand until it’s pressed to vermax’s scales, and then you’re too busy being surprised by how soft they feel to be annoyed that he’s so easily coaxed you into this position.

you still as the dragon rumbles, swallowing thickly as your fingers twitch against green scales. he blinks lazily at you, an alien intellect gleaming there as he seems to consider you for a long moment, and as you blink back at him some of the fear in your chest shakes loose.

because this is not just some beast, you realise. this is fire and blood and magic made flesh. there is life and intelligence in vermax’s eyes, not one you recognise but one you immediately respect. being this close to the dragon is a heady rush of awe and adrenaline; the knowledge that vermax could so easily harm you at any moment but is choosing not to because he trusts his rider. it’s staggering and wonderful and beside you jace is beaming, eyes shining with happiness at seeing you greet his draconic companion, and you are helplessly, hopelessly, wholly overwhelmed by your affection, your desire, by jace.

you kiss him.

it’s barely a kiss, more a breathless press of your mouth against his, and he startles at the sensation even as his arm loops around your waist. you break apart for the barest moment, nose sliding against his as you tilt your head, and jacaerys sighs out your name with heavy relief before he captures your mouth once more.

you’ve been kissed before, so you know the mechanics of it, but it’s never been like this. his lips move smoothly against yours as his hand flexes on your waist, drawing you closer until your chest is pressed against his. your hand tangles in his hair, fingers twisting in the soft curls and he moans with it, hand dragging up your back to cradle the back of your head tenderly as his tongue sweeps over your lips.

the gentle pressure of it has you gasping and he takes the opportunity immediately, tongue sliding against yours as heat pools in your core. your thoughts tumble wildly, incoherent as you can think of nothing but of how desperately you want more. the taste – the smell – the feel of him is drowning everything out that isn’t jace and you cannot resist it, do not even want to.

you want to kiss him forever, want his hand in your hair and his tongue in your mouth for always. you think he might even let you with how relentless he is, barely giving you a moments pause to catch your breath before consuming you in another desperate kiss.

you finally part only when vermax grumbles, cheeks blazing with heat as you step out of jace’s arms. jace murmurs lowly to his dragon in valyrian, and he nudges his great snout against jace’s shoulder in response before stepping away and curling down into the long grass to sleep. you take the moment to properly catch your breath again, hand pressing to your heaving chest in an effort to soothe your racing heart.

when you peek up at jace from beneath your lashes, you flush deeply at the sight of him. his curls are a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks pink beneath his tan. he looks almost debauched, and it sends a rush of desire through you. you suddenly can think of nothing other than him looking like this only flusher and skin glistening with sweat and in your bed.

the thought startles you into dropping your gaze to your feet, and you shuffle uncertainly. you feel – unsettled. you don’t think there’s anything wrong with sharing a kiss with your betrothed, and yet something like guilt curdles in your stomach as you worry at your bottom lip. you had kissed him. for all that he’d kissed you back, you worry that now he will think differently of you. think worse of you.

a knuckle tucks under your chin, then, lifting your face so that you meet jace’s eyes. you feel small and strangely vulnerable in the aftermath of your kiss, like you have somehow shown him something you never intended to, and the urge to shy away remains. but you are not a winter rose for nothing and so you tuck the doubt away as jace runs his thumb soothingly along the line of your jaw.

“i have been thinking of doing that since the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, a hint of shyness in the quirk of his lips even as he stares steadily into your eyes.

“oh.” you blink at him once in surprise, the uneasiness in you finally settling at the fondness in his gaze. “oh. that’s— good.” you curse yourself for your lack of wit in this moment as jace snickers. “i-i mean, i’m glad that it was not… unwelcome.”

your betrothed looks at you with deep affection, then, cupping your cheek and ducking down to press a fleeting, butterfly-soft kiss to your mouth before reluctantly parting from you. “it was most welcome, my lady. most welcome, indeed.” his eyes sparkle with mirth. “i find myself looking forward to the next time you greet vermax, if this is the kind of response such a thing garners.”

“jace!” you narrow your eyes at him in pretend annoyance, even as you smother a giggle with your fingers. “you should not expect me to indulge in such desires again, then, if you persist in being so smug about it.”

his laugh warms you as the two of you fall into easy banter, leaving vermax to his rest and returning to the ever-watchful ser dickon, and all the while all you can think of is how much you cannot wait to kiss him again.

as the air cools with the dying light of day, you lead jace to the gardens.

in the week since your first kiss, jace has oft tugged you into shadowy corners for more kisses any chance he’s had. his desire for you is matched only by your own for him, and as your confidence in your mutual attraction has grown, you have been equally as likely to pull him into a dark alcove to trade sweet words and sweet kisses in secret.

it’s thrilling and exciting and wonderful, but as the week passes you find a growing doubt whispering in the back of your mind.

while you cannot doubt jace desires you, not when he is so relentless in chasing after your smiling mouth, neither of you breathe a word of any feeling between you beyond attraction. perhaps it is reckless of you, foolhardy to fall for him so quickly – but then you are your parent’s daughter, all wolfs blood and deep roots, and you know no other way of being than this.

so you take him to the gardens as the moon rises in the sky, sneak past the night guards and out into the fresh air. you guide him through the blooming flowers and swaying trees, stopping along the while when the fancy takes one of you to stop and examine an interesting bloom or inhale a sweet scent. at least three times he stops you to slot his mouth against yours, to swallow your breathless giggling with feverish kisses, and each time he does it takes longer and longer for you to disentangle yourselves from each other.

eventually, with swollen lips and mussed hair, the two of you reach the winter roses. your effervescent mood becomes sombre as the moon shines on the blue flowers, turning the petals almost silver, and jace seems to recognise the change in atmosphere, a seriousness overtaking him as he watches you approach the flowers.

“my mother planted the first of these roses,” you tell jace as you kneel at the edge of the flowerbed, uncaring of the risk of dirt on your dress as you brush fingers over the pale blue petals tenderly. “winter roses, they are, from the north. from winterfell. she was born a stark, you see, and when she was betrothed to my father the only thing she asked was to be able to bring a few blooms from the glass gardens. she used to call me her little winter rose when i was a child, and she would bring me here and show me how to tend to them.”

jace kneels beside you, glancing at the side of your face before turning to look curiously at the blue flowers. “they’re beautiful,” he tells you sincerely.

“i’ve always thought so, too,” you agree almost absently, stroking the petals in an effort to calm your racing heart. “everyone told my mother she’d never be able to get them to grow so far south. they’re very rare, you see, and need very particular conditions.” your lips quirk up into a fond smile. “but my mother, for all that she became a tyrell, was always a stark at heart. stubborn, you know. and now look at them, thriving.”

you gesture out at the carefully tended rows of roses. “nobody else comes here, now, other than the gardeners and me. i think… i think my father finds it too hard, being here. it makes him miss her too much. so i come here when i need to be alone. or when i wish to be reminded of her. it's the one place in the world where i feel i can be wholly myself, without any pretence or worry.”

jace’s gaze is fixed on you, now, eyes almost black in the faint moonlight as understanding dawns on him. “thank you for bringing me here.”

you nod once, climbing back to your feet, and jace follows you. he watches you so intently, like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he dares to look away. you feel a little like you might, feel tenuous and vulnerable and a breath away from cracking your chest open.

“i’ve never brought anyone else here,” you confess quietly, flexing your fingers with nerves as jace’s lips part in surprise. “i wished… i wished to share this with you. to share who i am, myself, with you, i suppose.” you laugh a little self-deprecatingly. “however pretentious that sounds.”

“it doesn’t,” jace denies immediately. you sense he wants to say more, but he seems to understand that you’re building to saying something yourself, and so he stays quiet, expression earnest and open and fond as he gazes down at you.

“i know it’s perhaps too soon – we have only known each other a few weeks. but i… when i first found out we were betrothed, i was so scared. i worried you would be some arrogant princeling, and i dared not hope for anything more than civility between us. i’ve always known i would not marry for love, but i did not ever consider i would marry a man i had never met.”

you pause for long enough to suck in a breath, feeling a little like the floodgates have opened and you simply can’t stop speaking, can’t stop the feeling pouring freely from you. “and then i met you, and you were so unlike anything i’d expected. i know we still have so much more to learn about each other, and i know that things are— complicated, with the war, and that our marriage may be a ways off yet, but still— i find myself feeling for you, and i cannot hide it anymore. i don’t wish to hide it from you anymore.”

you let the open affection in his face buoy you as you steel yourself, pressing your shoulders back in a mimicry of confidence. “i wanted to show you this part of me, this place, because i….” you hesitate for a breathless moment, biting your lip, before gathering every scrap of courage you possess and diving in headfirst. “i am falling in love with you, jacaerys.”

you inhale the sweet scent of the pale blue petals deeply, let the familiar scent soothe you as jace stares at you with wide eyes. the winter roses are something that, until now, have been so uniquely yours. as you’d told jace, none other than you and the gardeners comes to this corner of the gardens now. the staff that tend so carefully to the flowers know to leave you well enough alone if they stumble across you, skirts splayed on the ground and fingers diligently caring for the roses. you’ve never even brought your sweet little brother, though you can admit that’s for practicality as much as anything else – his childish energy is a bit too boisterous for these delicate blooms.

bringing jace here, bringing him here to confess the deepening affection you harbour for him, feels raw. feels like you’re tearing your heart out of your chest and offering it up to him for perusal, hands bloody and soul bare. feels like saying ‘this is all that i am and all that i have been and all i will ever be and i hope, i hope, i hope it’s enough.’

jace finally, finally speaks, sighs your name, soft and sweet and tender, and hope blooms in your chest.

“oh, my sweet lady,” he murmurs, crowding into your space as he cups your cheek, and the smell of woodsmoke and dragon and jace floods your senses. “i am falling so unbelievably in love with you. only, it does not feel so much like falling as it is like choosing it, like walking into love with you with my eyes wide open and seeing nothing but you.”

it's almost unbearable, the blazing heat of his gaze as he presses his forehead against yours, and it makes you tremble as your hands clutch as his elbows in an effort to ground yourself to this moment, to him. “our betrothal was decided for us without care or consideration for our own desires,” he says, lips brushing against your own with every whispered word. “i know that as well as you, but i need you to know that if i had the choice i would choose this. i would choose you, your stubborn heart, your fierce spirit, your gracious soul.”

his hand slides from your cheek to your hair, holds you so tenderly like you are something precious, and it steals your breath from your lungs as you revel in his unbridled affection. “i care not when we marry, if we marry, in truth, because in my heart you are already mine just as i am already yours.”

he kisses you, then, a desperate and greedy thing, as if he can no longer restrain himself from devouring you whole. and you are just as needy, hands fisting in his doublet as you press yourself against him and somehow finding yourself wishing to be closer still. the world narrows down to him and him only; his mouth, his hands, his hair. you can think of nothing else, and do not wish to, because in this moment you are wholly yourself and he is wholly himself and it’s enough, it’s wonderful and delicate and it’s enough.

and, there beneath the moonlight and amongst the winter roses, deep and enduring affection, the kind of love the bards sing songs about, takes root.

taglist; @eldrith

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace x reader #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys vaaryon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys targaryen fanfic #jacaerys targaryen imagine #my writing

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annievrse · 2 months

Text

types of kisses

multiple bsd x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb includes: dazai, chuuya, fyodor, ango c/w: suggestive content: chuuya & ango [mdni], fyodor calls reader dorogaya, dazai calls reader bella. a/n: oh em geee fifth post this week??? no ok ngl i'm feeding u before i lock in for my last semester :o surprise!!

DAZAI —ᡣ𐭩 you're so pretty kisses

"don't look."

"can't," dazai says, and you shake your head at the dismissal of your joke. he has a blindfold on, so you'd expect him to be a little suspicious and, by extension, unwilling to participate in your dumb antics.

the setting sun blankets dazai in a warm orange, making his skin glow and his hair the colour of rich chocolate. you're sitting on the floor, facing him, when you fumble with the ribbon as you glance at him. you've always known his beauty despite his distaste for such compliments.

once the baby pink satin is tied, you push onto your knees and waddle over to him.

you bump into him slightly, and he cowers away, hands up in front of his face. "what was that?"

"me, idiot. now be still."

dazai sighs loudly before relaxing, though his shoulders are still near his ears when he feels you pick up a chunk of his hair.

"you're not cutting it off, are you?"

you scoff, tying the hairband that holds the bow around the brown strands. "i would die if you cut your hair."

dazai nods. "good to know."

rolling your eyes and huffing in faux annoyance, you finish tying off the band and lean back to get a better look. you make a sound close to a squeal after you position it and then sit back down. you're basically bouncing with excitement.

"and... open!"

dazai rips the blindfold off with lightning speed, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "what did you do to me?"

tilting your head, you giggle. "nothing."

dazai looks to the ceiling before standing. he makes a beeline for the bathroom, and when he gets there, he groans.

you cheer when he returns to the living room. "you look so handsome!"

dazai's eyes widen, and his cheeks turn pink, his gaze everywhere but on you. "shut up."

you beckon him over to sit back where he was previously, the light a deeper amber than before. you stare at him; if this were a cartoon, you'd have hearts for eyes. he looks exquisite.

"stop looking at me like that, it's creepy."

"baby, you look so pretty."

dazai shakes his head. "you're the pretty one here, bella."

you lean forward and press your lips against his forehead. "my pretty baby."

dazai scoffs, but it's weak. you get back up on your knees and wrap your arms around his head, kissing the top of his head. his large hands grab your hips, and he pulls you closer to him. you lift his chin with your fingers and smile widely.

kissing his lips, you feel dazai relax under you. pulling back slightly, you press your lips to both his cheeks, forehead, temples, and nose. he scrunches his face, and a laugh escapes him, the sound calming your racing heart.

"you're the prettiest ever, osamu." you know he'll never see himself the same way, but you'll continue to tell him for eternity.

dazai sighs and nods. with his hand on the back of your neck, he pulls your face down to his. "whatever you say, bella."

CHUUYA —ᡣ𐭩 angry kisses

"—fuck," chuuya chokes out when you shove him against the wall. your fingers are twisted in the fabric of his dress shirt, his coat and vest strewn across his office.

"you said you'd come back uninjured," you say, and the grip chuuya has on your hips tightens. you bring his mouth back to yours, the kiss is hard and hungry as you pin him still as best you can with your pelvis.

chuuya pulls away slightly, his breath heavy and warm against your nose. "you think i go into things planning to get hurt? dumbass."

you furrow your eyebrows at his snarky response, but you're caught off guard when he flips you around, your shoulder blades hitting the wall. you glare at him, but your gaze hardly holds the malice you intend.

chuuya's eyes flicker between yours, and his fingers soften against your waist. your hands slowly unravel from his shirt, and you exhale softly, running your palms up his chest.

"i hate seeing you hurt," you whisper.

chuuya sighs and kisses your cheek. "i know. but i can't help it if some idiot shoots me."

your breaths mingle between you, and you finally acknowledge how swollen his lips are. you run your thumb over his bottom lip and watch it bounce back. your face warms smugly.

"i'm sorry, okay?" chuuya mumbles bitterly, but you see through his attitude. you smile and card your fingers through his hair.

"good."

slowly, the fire returns to his irises. "good?"

you nod, eyebrow raised. "you wanna go again, big boy?"

a sound comes from deep in his throat before chuuya steps back, detaching himself from you completely. he tilts his head and looks you up and down, and you pull at your clothes to straighten them out.

"don't get shy now, doll," chuuya smirks, pulling his bolo tie from his neck. "the fun's only just beginning, no?"

FYODOR —ᡣ𐭩 hello kisses

the front door of the safe house clicks shut silently, but you hear it from your spot in the living room anyway.

fyodor told you he'd be home in two months. it's only been one and a quarter, and this is the first you've heard the main door open. fear clutches your stomach and you shakily stand from the lounge.

"fedya?"

you try to steady your voice, but being alone, you feel helpless. taking one step toward the side table, you snatch the candle stand—it's better than nothing, but only if the intruder is human.

shuffling continues out of sight, and you tip-toe to peek around the corner. being stuck in this house has you reading countless novels, many horror. and it's a well known fact that the person who investigates first always dies, but here you are, feeling (almost) unstoppable with your brass weapon and a dream.

"dorogaya?" the familiar drawl has you dropping the candle holder, the clang of it against the wood floors deaf on your ears.

you laugh in shock as you rush toward fyodor. his cheeks are pink, but you believe it's because of you and not the winter wind outside.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. your breathless voice makes him shiver. fyodor laughs deeply, and his arms circle your waist, quickly picking you up. you bury your face in his neck, holding onto the feel of him so warm and familiar.

"mission finished early; had to see you before the next one."

he spins you around before placing you back down. you blink away tears and curse when one slips, but fyodor's there to wipe it away with his gloveless thumb. nudging his hand away, you push up on your toes to kiss him, your hands in his hair while his fingers press into your cheeks.

the house is silent around you, but you can't stop smiling, and fyodor's face displays the first genuine grin he's had in months. he pulls you closer to him, his heart rate slightly higher than usual. "hello, dorogaya."

you choke out a laugh amidst the onslaught of tears that decided to break past your waterlines, and the sound is music to his ears. "hi, fedya."

ANGO —ᡣ𐭩 heated kisses

"i have to get back to work."

you roll your eyes and pull ango closer by the lapels of his jacket. your lips explore his jaw, and his fingers desperately clutch the fabric of your coat.

"baby, please shut up," you say, pressing your lips to his. he groans into your mouth and sticks his knee between your legs; the feeling has you stuttering against him. pulling away to look down at where you rest on his thigh, ango throws his head back against the wall. you take it as an opportunity to press kisses down the column of his throat.

a strangled whine leaves his lips, the sound making your stomach flip. you push his jacket over his shoulders, and he does little to contest. when you lean back to glance at him quickly, ango has his eyes screwed shut.

you giggle breathlessly and whisper his name.

ango looks at you lazily before dragging his eyes to his wrist, where you know he's checking the time. the storage closet you pulled him into is unlike anything you've done with him before, but it didn't take long for him to warm up to the idea despite his usually stern nature.

"we have loads of time," you run your hands down his torso toward his belt. you can tell ango wants to disagree, but when you kiss him again, he turns to putty.

pushing his glasses over his hair, you continue your attack on his mouth, nibbling and nipping at his bottom lip. ango gathers you in his arms, pulling you higher on his leg and pressing your chest against his.

you pull your face half an inch away from his, panting, and swallow. his dark eyes follow your throat bobbing, and his tongue darts out to the corner of his mouth.

"god, i don't think i can go back to work." you giggle against his mouth and nod in agreeance, feeling the obvious bulge in his pants.

"be quick," ango mumbles, his chest heaving. he looks otherworldly when he's drunk on you. his hands slide up to your neck, and before you can do anything, ango presses a dizzying kiss on your lips.

"nevermind, we're going home."

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seeingivy · 6 months

Text

picnic

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

(^^make sure you check since this was a double upload and I posted the last one very recently :D)

dear head of the cullen clan, keep evening plans open – im getting off work early and we’re going on a picnic. coldest regards, the head of the volturi (ps. am expecting a very wholehearted appreciation for the fact that it’s coldest regards and not warmest regards, because they are, in fact, vampires and therefore cold. because they don’t have a heart and such.) (extra ps. this is a link to a shared spotify playlist. i’ll add a song and then you add one. we’ll keep it going.)

you snort.

dear aro of the volturi (does he have a last name???), so much to unpack in one email, yet again. you really know how to keep a girl on her toes. first and foremost, you are SOOOO ran through. so offended that i wasn’t the person who got to put you on to twilight and whoever it was, I HOEP SHE DIES! if you’re team jacob, you’re a freak. second, SO VERY FLATTERED that you think i would be carlisle. a little haunting that you think YOU would be aro…but it’s ok cuz former companions to enemies back to lovers in our case would be kind of crazy??? third. done and done. i just added a song so hurry up bc i have like ten other songs i want to add and i am #impatient see u after work pookie :D, carlisle cullen (very appreciative of the cold regards. you are a king among men.)

his response back is very prompt.

Never call me pookie again. (very offended that you think i’d be stupid enough to be team jacob. and direct your murderous rage towards yuuji and my mom, who forced me to watch it in theaters with them.)

you wait for sukuna at the park two blocks down the apartment complex. the sun is hours away from dipping into the horizon, the chilly wind rustling through the trees. you realize now that the red skirt and white sweater might betray you in a few hours but decide that you’ll simply have to steal his jacket when he gets here.

and you would have already but he’s twenty minutes late.

and while this part of the city is extremely safe, sukuna’s ever constant fear of people attacking you on subway trains and stabbing you in alleyways has instilled an acute fear of strangers in you, which is why you’re gripping the sparkly pink pepper spray he bought you very harshly in your palm right now.

you think it’s sweet that he bought you a pink one.

but of course it’s severely ironic that you almost used it on him.

because he scares the living daylights out of you, by placing his hand around your shoulder from behind.

“hey. i’m sorry i-”

“jesus fuck-”

you instinctively hold the pepper spray up to his face, your hands shaking in front of you.

“i’ll use it, you pervert!”

sukuna leans his head to the side, which is when you’re finally able to log that it’s actually him standing in front of you and not a stranger, and you drop your hands in embarrassment.

“i mean, i’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t doll face but–”

“oh my god, sukuna. i thought you were trying to rob me!”

“i’m smarter than that. the only thing inside your purse is lip gloss, which has very little value to me.” sukuna responds, dropping the little basket at his feet and taking the little stalk of flowers out of the top handle.

“i’ll have you know that it’s actually sold out in every store right now. so you could make bank if you sold it.”

“don’t tempt me. and for your sake, i’ll accept the apology you didn’t give me for just trying to rob me of my eyesight and for calling me a pervert? i’m getting really tired of the age gap jokes, y/n.” sukuna responds, as he lifts your hands at your sides and places the stalk of flowers in your hand.

you give him a big smile as you press your nose to the flowers, the scent fresh in your nose. and sukuna props down, setting a billowing white blanket on the ground before he taps the spot next to him and signals for you to sit next to him.

“who needs eyes?” you joke, as you squeeze his hands and set the flowers down next to the little basket.

“me, dipshit. how else am i supposed to look at you?”

you cover your hands with your cheeks as you watch him place all of the little things inside the basket next to you, laying them out perfectly. it’s albeit a weird assortment – two wine glasses, perfectly wrapped sandwiches, a mini-cake, and strawberry lemonade.

“well, stop perceiving me. this is so weird!” you murmur.

it’s enough to catch his attention and stop him in his tracks.

“what?”

the question makes you pause. and a little embarrassed. it was a little harsh to say while you were joking.

“oh, i mean…i didn’t mean it like that! i was making a joke about perceiving because eyes…vision…and i almost took your vision away! and you perceive with your eyes, because how else would you see…”

sukuna smiles, before shaking his head, and continuing spilling out the last of the contents – a set of gouache paints and two little small canvases. and he drops to his feet, yanking his shoes off, before sitting flat on the blanket and gesturing for you to join him.

“there’s no way in hell that was what you meant. but we’ll ignore that for the time being.” sukuna responds, hiking his legs to his chest and gesturing towards the spread he just put out.

you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“you look very pretty today.” sukuna responds.

“thanks! you too!”

he narrows his eyes.

“uh huh. well, pick what we do first. the paint, the sandwiches, or the weird wine glass cake.”

“the wine glass cake? like from tiktok?” you ask.

“correct. i’m really bad at…cute dates. so…i did some research.”

sukuna refuses to look at you. because after admitting it, he’s suddenly busied himself with reading the back of the box of paints, like it’s the most riveting, intriguing thing he’s ever read in his life.

but the pink flush that’s creeping down his neck betrays him entirely, as you reach forward and push the little box down. and sukuna’s already glaring at you.

you place your chin on the top of his knees, reaching for one of his hands and smiling.

“you did research for a date?”

“you can choke on your spit.”

you grin.

“you really know how to turn a girl on.”

“you’re filthy.”

you grin.

“and you’re actually so precious, i–”

“don’t call me precious, y/n.” he whines, as he reaches forward to flick on your forehead.

you smile as you sit by his side, tucking the folds of your skirt under your leg as you reach for both of the wine glasses and hand him one.

“so how humbling was it to have satoru explain all this to you?” you ask.

he sneers.

“don’t even ask. he’s like the biggest nuisance i’ve ever met in my life. top ten worst moments of my life.” sukuna responds.

“i’m flattered you humbled yourself to him for me.”

“i actually asked suguru. they’re like…two peas in a pod, they can’t do shit without each other. the paints and stuff they gave me and the nice basket too.”

“that’s sweet of them. remind me to send them something later to thank them.”

sukuna scoffs.

“no need. they were more than happy to give it up for you.”

“ah yes. i hear they’re big fans of this camping bag story. the scouts honor and the fake story we had to tell them makes a lot more sense now.” you respond.

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“okay, you know what? sue me. i was like sixteen sleeping next to a girl for the first time. god forbid i enjoyed myself. and i don’t know why they’re all so hyperfixated on that story because it was a very normal thing to assume when you’re asked that question.”

you snort.

“and you say you’re not a pervert…”

sukuna leans forward, his eyes flitting down to his lips before he looks back up at you. and he can tell that you’re in a mood, that you’re trying to push his buttons by annoying him.

“you know i despise you right?” he whispers.

you grin, leaning in.

“is that right?” you whisper back.

“oh yeah. you irritate me.”

there isn’t even a shred of earnestness in the words he’s uttering. you know he doesn’t mean them.

“keep going.” you respond, as he presses a warm kiss to the side of your cheek.

“you’re a nuisance.” – a kiss to your forehead.

“an irritation.” – a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“like a fucking thorn in my side.” – and a kiss to the sweet spot right in your neck and his hand snaking up your thigh, which makes you nearly keel your head back from the sensation.

you place your hands on his cheek and pull him back, face flushed and his eyes nearly glazed over.

“are you crazy?” you whisper.

“what?” he asks.

“we’re in public, dumbass. you can’t just start trying to rile me up.”

sukuna leans back, obliging.

“so you admit it? i was riling you up?”

“oh, shut up.”

you reach for the sandwiches and unpeel one for sukuna. before he takes it, he places a tiny white box in your lap.

you frown. first the fancy date but the jewelry too?

“sukuna. you didn’t–”

“just open it. i’m impatient and i’ve been waiting all day. and i actually think you’ll like it. otherwise, you’re ungrateful and rude and you hate me.” sukuna responds.

you give him a tight lipped smile before you open the little box and actually smile.

it’s a dainty silver chain – the exact same as sukuna’s from the chain-links, but the build is a little thinner. and right at the center, a little charm of a star.

you reach forward for his chain, dangling around his collarbone. and surely enough, in addition to the original charm he had of an interlocked circle, there’s a star charm added right next to it.

“you always reach for it. when you’re talking or when we’re kissing. figured i’d get you your own since you’re such a big fan.”

“you are so…”

“perfect? sexy? the father of your children?”

“i was thinking adorable. can i answer d for all of the above?” you respond.

sukuna grins.

“survey says yes, princess.” he responds.

you yank the chain from the little box and hand it to him, before turning around for him to secure it on you. his fingers tickle against the nape of your neck, accompanied by a warm kiss, before he taps your shoulders to signify that he’s done.

“you know. you really are perceiving me right now.” you respond.

“and how’s that?”

“i know you’re obsessed with me and pay attention to every word i say.”

sukuna smiles.

“obviously.”

you jab at his side.

“i mean, i know you’re doing this because i mentioned picnics yesterday and always feeling left out. sure you could put two and two together that he never really bought me any nice gifts or anything when i said he ruined my birthday.”

“okay, captain obvious. and?”

you shove him once more, before leaning your head against his shoulder.

“well, i appreciate it. i know the whole…cutesy painting date isn’t your thing. we won’t have to do it again. and that you…you’re trying to make this whole thing special for me.”

sukuna scoffs.

“i’m offended. first and foremost, i always like to eat with you. every time i think that there’s no way you can amaze me more, you find another way to spill food on your clothes.”

“hey! that’s not true.”

“you already spilled on the blanket. second, this is a very violent way to eat cake. you literally mess up all the layers by doing that and destroy the piping on the cake which i can admit, i am a fan of. and third, i’m going to paint us as worms, which seems enjoyable to me.”

you curl your nose.

“worms?”

“yeah. what were you going to paint?”

“i don’t know. but it certainly wasn’t going to be worms. like the park or flowers or something.”

“boring. i’m going to paint us as slimy worms. and because we made it on this date, you’ll have to agree to put it up in the apartment, even if it’s ugly.”

“sukuna.” you whine.

“especially if it’s ugly. it’s a testament to our love.” he responds, dramatically placing his hands on his chest.

“you know, you’re so right. worms have been a really defining feature of your relationship.”

sukuna leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your lips and an additional one on your cheek.

“you just get me, princess!”

and he breaks the little joke by lifting one of your hands to his lips, and pressing a kiss on all four of your knuckles before pressing your hand to his cheek.

“and i have to do special things for a special person.”

you return the gesture, lifting his tattooed fingers to your lips and doing the same.

“you know…you’re really good at this type of thing.” you murmur.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean, being a boyfriend. and…and being supportive about everything. sometimes i feel like i’m trying really hard to be the best but…just comes naturally to you.” you respond.

sukuna shrugs.

“don’t know if i’m perfect but…loving you has always come really easy to me. i don’t really have to think twice about it because these are actually just things i want to do for you.”

you groan.

“see! that’s what i’m saying! you always just…say sweet things, do sweet things. sometimes i’m convinced i’m not even half deserving of it, just because sometimes i don’t reciprocate that back.” you respond.

sukuna leans forward.

“you know, you actually do though.”

“as if.” you groan.

sukuna pauses, before leaning his cheek against the tops of his knees and looking out at the expanse of grass in front of you. you follow his line of vision – to the dog running in the distance, the wide, billowing trees, and the little flower truck on the side – which you now realize is where sukuna copped the flowers from earlier.

“i mean, this type of thing. that we have, or…or the way i act around you. it means a lot to you because, you…you’ve never had this before. right?”

“yeah.”

“well, i haven’t had you before. i know you see me as perfect, but…but when you say that i can tell that you don’t mean it the way my mom or…or yuuji think that i’m perfect. in the untouchable way.”

you lean forward, cupping the side of his face.

“sukuna. you’re so touchable.” you joke.

“you’re disgusting.”

“you love it.”

sukuna smiles.

“yeah, i really do. it does actually mean the world to me that you think i’m perfect how i am and don’t think i’m larger than life.”

“if anything, your ego could be smaller.”

sukuna leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“and…and even the other day. i know you were acting squirrely and weird when yuuji was near us and heard us bickering, but i was half convinced that you were going to take his side at the end, when he started saying that stuff about me. because it is true and i have acted a certain way in the past…and, you would have every right to agree with him if you wanted to.”

you frown.

“no, i wouldn’t. you’ve never treated me like that and i know you’re being earnest when you say these things to me. this would be a very elaborate way to get into my pants if that was what you were trying to do. and i know it’s not.”

sukuna smiles.

“that’s what i’m saying. every other person for me has never given me that benefit of the doubt, but you always do. you were the person who thought to tell me that my grandpa died when you all came to get me and you were the one who wasn’t mad at me. the things you do for me are the same, in equal magnitude, as what i do for you. if this makes you feel good, or…or on top of the world, you have to know that’s how you make me feel too. i’m half convinced that you’re basically made for me at this point the way you get everything right on point.”

you lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his lips.

“i really think you’re made for me too, ryomen.”

sukuna groans, dramatically leaning his head back, before nearly pushing you over and peppering kisses to almost every surface on your face.

“quit fucking saying my name. you have no idea what that does to me.”

“i mean, i think i have an idea.”

sukuna clamps his fingers over your mouth, before pressing a few more lingering kisses to your face and pushing off. and subsequently, picks all of the grass out of your hair as you roll your eyes.

and after that sukuna, admittedly, very aggressively uses the wine glasses to portion off little slices of the cake and makes it a point to finish off yours when you can’t stomach the sweetness. and true to his promise – sukuna paints the two of you as worms, but at the park, stargazing.

it’s a little silly, the way he paints it. you were expecting it to be more gory or gross, but it’s so corny that it makes you smile. because he draws the two little worms, but distinguishes between the two of you, by swiping some of your pink paint and adding a little ribbon to the one that’s supposed to be you.

sukuna explains the stars. because before sukuna had dragged you out of that shitty bathroom bar, it’s what megumi and yuuji said in his drunken mess – he had pointed at two little stars and likened them to him and megumi.

and you’re almost positive that at the time, sukuna found it utterly ridiculous. but now, he understood it – the sentiment. that you and sukuna were two little worms, and two stars, and two little flowers too.

and to his promise, the two of you decide to place the little canvases you drew at the end of the kitchen counter.

it’s only then that you realize that you have to go the whole ten miles for sukuna the way he had done for you – countless times again. and that if you were going in blind in trying to make something special, you’d have to take a page out of his book and do some research.

and there was only one person who could really help you, who you’d rather die than humble yourself to than ask for help.

regardless of that, you still call sammy the next morning.

next part linked here

an: they're about to do it. anyways....there is a very real playlist to match the one that they talk about in the fic -- and it matches the way it described in the fic! so it's interleaved, the first song is a song that sukuna would have added, the second one that y/n added, the third sukuna, so on and so forth. it's linked here! happy listening babies

second an: thank you for the love on the last chapter. it makes my heart really warm bc all of that was actually based on a REAL MAN and real things that I have felt/have said to me and just having people comment that they felt seen by it or it made them feel a certain type of way actually made me really happy and so warm. this blog was one of the first things I did after I stopped being really, really sad and i'm glad that i'm able to share a little joy here and there, if that's what this fic is for you. anyways this is long and sappy and gross and actually I just love you all for enduring the ouchies and the sillies with me a little bit 💌

third an: double upload bc yall were so patient with me :D

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani79 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

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riaki · 9 months

Text

guys pls consider… lifeguard!gojo bit inspired by a post i saw a long time ago from @/shotorus, thank u sel + inez !

lifeguard!gojo, who signs you in for a pool session and gives you the wrong time-slot wristband because he’s too busy gawking at you with hearts in his blue eyes to notice he registered you to swim for 12pm-2pm. when, in reality, it’s 4pm in the afternoon and the hot sun is slowly sinking in the sky.

lifeguard!gojo, who mistakes your polite attempts to correct him as signs of disinterest; he sees things through romance-tinted glasses. of course he can't keep a wounded pride, and so he makes it his saturday afternoon goal to win your heart. after all, who in their right mind would reject him in all his dashing chlorine scented glory?

lifeguard!gojo, who reintroduces himself all suave and cool and he thinks it's working mid-hair slick-back— until he gets smacked in the face by a stray rubber ball, and his sunglasses go flying. it leaves a red spot of hashmarks on his nose, like the ball was a cookie cutter and he was the dough. but he doesn't mind, because he got to hear your pretty laugh as you pick up his shades and hand them back to him, albeit at his own expense. you even say a cute thing or two about the chipped popsicle sticker on the frame.

lifeguard!gojo, who's unreasonably (and immaturely) upset over the fact he can't seductively rub sunscreen into your back because you already have beforehand. but he's not complaining; it smells good when he's forced a little closer to you to avoid a rampaging train of kids running across the pool deck. he should yell at them, but the smell of summery citrus and sea salt wafting on the humid breeze distracts him.

lifeguard!gojo, who pours every ounce of his remaining energy into gettin your attention the entire time you're there— with loud whistle blows from the scribble-adorned plastic whistle hanging from his neck, grabbing your attention, only to just offer a charming wink in your direction. or, squeezing idle small talk between every lap you swim, teasing you with a lazy grin on his lips from under his shaded lifeguard stand when you complain about the heat of the blazing sun.

lifeguard!gojo, who ropes his poor, exhausted snack stand friend with the blonde hair and dark shadows beneath his eyes into helping him— when you give up on swimming laps and begrudgingly let him convince you into going down the waterslides as if you’re a nine year old with neon pink inflatable buoy rings around your arms.

lifeguard!gojo, who forces nanami (snack stand man) to ‘accidentally’ send you down the slide early— you’re caught up in the surprise, the sound of rushing water and kids shouting and a cicada’s buzz filling your ears— and before you know it you’re tossed into the bottom of the pool by the stream of water, disoriented and panicking until two steady arms fish you out of the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who ‘rescues you from drowning’ holding you bridal style to his chest with his sunglasses balanced on the edge of his nose, letting you catch a glimpse of his uncanny blue eyes hidden beneath his dripping white hair. his whistle lanyard hangs loosely around his neck, drawing a line down the center of his toned chest.

lifeguard!gojo, who can’t help but double over as he laughs obnoxiously— boyishly when he gets to watch your face flush cherry as you scramble to get out of his arms and fall straight back into the refreshing water with a splash.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s forced to reconcile with what he thinks is defeat when he gets you kicked out of the pool early because of his earnest registering mistake— and in doing so, you forget your ring on the pool deck. it's just your luck— you don't even realize it until the sun's almost set and you’re halfway home.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning up and getting ready to close for the night when he spots a gleam of silver reflecting the hazy purple sunset, and he recognizes it as your jewelry (even though that was the first time he ever met you). of course he'd remember it— he'd been absentmindedly staring at your fingers, burning them into his mind; imagining how they'd feel in his damp hair.

lifeguard!gojo, who slips your ring into his pocket after trying it on and marveling at how small your hands must be in comparison to his.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning out the gutters, waist deep in the pool, when he hears your voice again— pretty like birdsong in the spring, dew gathering on the fragile petals of blooming petals.

lifeguard!gojo, who waits for you to come in— the gate was unlocked— and watches as you kneel on the concrete deck, elbows on your knees as you smile down at him. you look really cute, with your hair falling over your face like that, framed by the dying sunlight.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s a little disheartened when you tell him all you came back for was your ring, and not him. or his phone number.

lifeguard!gojo, who disappears beneath the water for a moment— then resurfaces from the pool dripping wet, hair clinging to his face while he acts as though he'd found your ring at the bottom of the pool. "it's stainless steel, yeah? don't worry about rust." he reassures you with a chuckle when you panic; he thinks it's cute.

lifeguard!gojo, who holds the ring just out of your grasp when you make a grab for it, laughing as you almost fall right into the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who tells you he'll only give it back if you give him your phone number in exchange as he climbs out of the pool and sits next to you, on the gutters, the sound of rushing water filling his ear.

lifeguard!gojo, who, sitting by your side, focuses on the way the pool looks with the lights turned on, an ethereal underwater dreamscape distorted by the incessant moving water. a way of distracting himself from how beautiful you look in the painted sunset.

lifeguard!gojo, who gets his first taste of you when you ask him to face you; you muffle his yelp of surprise, but it doesn’t matter because you taste even better than you smell, a sweetness like crystal rock candy and blueberries on his tongue when his lips meet yours.

lifeguard!gojo, who takes the opportunity to catch your wrist and slide your ring back onto your finger with a quick lingering kiss to your cheek; his lips are a little wet from his earlier pool dip, but the dreamy look in your eyes tells him you don’t mind.

lifeguard!gojo, who sees you out, still riding on the thrill of your lips; the pride in his chest now that he's got your contact saved on his phone with an excessive amount of heart emojis and a (˘ڡ˘ς) next to your name.

lifeguard!gojo, who can't wait for the next time you come back to the pool, and who ignores the angry slew of texts from his boss scolding him for leaving the gate unlocked in favor of the selfie you send him.

you: [ one image attached ]

lifeguard boy 🛟🤍 : GAYATTTTT LET ME HIT PLSPLSPLSS 🙈🙈😝😝😝😋😋🤞🔥🔥🔥⁉️‼️🔞💯💯😼😻💺💺🗽

bonus: nanami gets u two popsicles to share tagging @sugumimi NAOMI I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U WERE TALKING AB my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

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0cta9on · 7 months

Text

Masterpiece

length: +5k words

Genre: Fluff

Kiss Of Life Julie x Male Reader

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

The art club room was quiet, as it usually was on most afternoons. It was your only source of relief from the stress of grades, your parents, and daily life in general. Last year, when you were a junior, it used to be bustling with life, but after all your seniors graduated and your failure to recruit new members thanks to your social ineptitude, you were the art club’s sole member this year. It’s not like you minded - painting was easier when it was quiet and you practically never ran out of supplies since you were the only one using them.

You set up your canvas atop an easel and grabbed a tube for every paint color in case you needed it. The light of the sun shone through the window, inviting you to look outside for inspiration. With a deep breath and a clear mind, you gaze through the window pane in search of your next subject. A couple seconds of gazing turns into a minute. One minute turns into two. Two minutes turns into five. Five minutes turns into half an hour. Nothing. Looking out of that window five days a week for more than a year has completely drained the view of any inspiration. The wooded area beyond the school grounds has remained unchanged, and the school’s soccer field wasn’t exactly an enticing subject to paint. With a disappointed sigh, you decide to pack it in early tonight and head home. However, right as you start to pack up, you hear the door open abruptly.

“Oh, sorry, is this the wrong r- Woah.” The prettiest girl you have ever laid eyes on steps through the door, examining the various paintings adorning the walls of the art room with awe. “Oh my god, these are beautiful. Did you paint these?” she asks, directing her attention towards you.

You flinch, startled by the sudden question. “U-uh, a couple of them…” you manage to murmur out. Painting was one of the things you considered yourself to be good at. For others, it was studying or sports. For you, it was skillfully using a brush to fill a blank canvas with what you considered art. However, none of your pieces could even compare to the beauty of the girl standing before you.

“Wow, you’re really talented,” she says, flashing a wide grin at you that makes your heart skip a beat. “My name’s Julie, I just moved here recently.” She extends a welcoming hand towards you, which you ungracefully accept with a shaky hand.

“Th-thanks… I-I’m Choi Woohyuk. U-um, what are you doing here?” you ask her, silently praying that she is here to join the art club.

“Oh right, I was trying to find the room for the hip-hop club, but I guess I got lost.” Julie chuckles cutely at her mistake. Your heart sank a little, but her warm smile lifted your spirits instantly. A warm blush graces your cheeks as you mentally trace every detail of her face, afraid that she would disappear forever the second you blinked. Her silky auburn hair perfectly framed her face, the glistening pink hue of her lip gloss coated her plump lips which curled into a smile that made your heart soar, and the slight puffiness of her eyes made her look endearing, like a cat that just woke up from a nap.

“Uhh, Woohyuk? Are you alright?” she asks with a worried expression. You shake your head, embarrassed that you were caught staring.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. The hip-hop club is two doors down,” you answer, averting your gaze for fear of getting caught in another trance.

“That’s so close! I should stop by here every once in a while, this place is cool,” Julie giggles as she backs up towards the door, never breaking eye contact with you. “Thanks, Woohyuk! I’ll see you around!” she waves before shutting the door.

You stand there in silence, taking in the brief yet memorable interaction. Without hesitation, you set up your canvas and your paints once again, reinvigorated with a new passion.

______________________________________________________________

You end up getting home an hour later than usual. Your parents had some stern words for you upon entering the door, but they believed the lie you told them about helping out a teacher after the art club ended. Truthfully, you lost track of time trying to paint Julie, but no amount of skill or experience could truly capture her essence. Was it creepy to try and paint a girl you just met? Maybe. Definitely. But this was the first time in a while that you felt truly inspired to paint, and with the school festival right around the corner, you needed something breathtaking to display amongst your other mundane pieces.

That night, you stared at the dark ceiling of your room, finding it impossible to sleep. The shadows began to shift, morphing into indecipherable shapes like different shades of black and navy spilled on a blank canvas. The splotches took a familiar form until you saw Julie’s magnificent face staring back at you. You couldn’t help but laugh as you contemplated whether or not you’d gone insane. No artist is ever fully sane, you thought before succumbing to the exhaustion and drifting gently into a peaceful slumber.

______________________________________________________________

As usual, you find yourself in the art club room after a particularly rough day of classes. If you weren’t daydreaming about Julie, you were dozing off in class and dreaming about her instead. To make matters worse, nearly all of your teachers called you out for not paying attention, adding another layer of embarrassment. You set up your equipment, hoping you’ll be able to forget about everything once you start painting.

Just before the paint touches the canvas, you hesitate, glancing at the door with bated breath. As stupid as it was, you strained your mind, half convinced Julie would walk through the door if you willed hard enough. You get your hopes up as you hear footsteps walk by, but ultimately, you’re met with silence and disappointment as the door stares back at you as if taunting you with its stillness. A mix of emotions goes through your head as you look back to your blank canvas.

She wasn’t coming back, and you felt like an idiot for getting so attached after one meeting. Rather than sitting around moping, you decide to cut yourself some slack - you would be surprised if someone didn’t fall in love after one look at her. With a sigh, you bring your brush back to the canvas, this time letting your heart do all the work instead of your head. Your arm moves with a mind of its own, tracing invisible lines and painting with pure intuition. This was the feeling you loved most while painting: Letting yourself get lost in the process without worrying about the final form. No planning, no second guessing, no expectations. In your heart, you knew that no matter how it looked, this would be your masterpiece.

Before you knew it, you were done. You straighten your spine, the pain in your lower back a sign of hard work. Looking back at your now-filled canvas, you see a pair of eyes you hadn’t noticed before. Then, you see lips, shining as if they were coated with lip gloss made out of stars. Then, it’s strands of auburn hair, cascading down like a waterfall of reddish brown.

A face. You made a face. More specifically, it’s Julie’s face. And it was beautiful.

“Is that me?”

A voice from behind you makes you jump, inadvertently knocking over your mini table full of supplies. Blotches of paint spray all over the tile floor and onto your pants. You look up at the source of the voice only to see the same familiar face on your canvas: Julie Han.

“I-I-I… U-um, i-it’s not…” You struggle to explain yourself, not a single eligible word escapes your lips. Somehow, Julie had managed to come into the art room without you knowing. You didn’t know how long she was there, but it was obvious she had seen your painting. There was no use hiding it.

During the commotion, paint had sprayed all over Julie’s legs and her shoes. You quickly grab a pack of wet wipes from the cupboard and offer it to her, your eyes glued to the floor.

“S-sorry…” you utter under your breath. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for her to yell at you or call you a creep. The weight of the wet wipes left your hand, leaving you isolated with nothing to support you. You could do nothing but wait as your vision of the tiles on the floor began to blur together, creating an ugly blotch of black that glared at you with the sting of disapproval.

Like a ray of light in a dark tunnel, Julie’s voice shot through your worries. “That’s an amazing painting, Woohyuk.” You jerked your head up and saw her gazing at the canvas with deep admiration, too busy enjoying your work to care about the paint on her.

“R-really? Y-you don’t think it’s… creepy?” you ask. At this point, your heart stopped beating and you wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you before you faded into the afterlife.

“Creepy? Not at all, this is really cute. No one has ever painted me before. It’s really flattering.” Her eyes twinkled as she winked at you. Whether it was a trick of the light or just your imagination, it didn’t matter. “Sorry for startling you, I wanted to stop by after hip-hop club since I didn’t get the chance earlier.”

You took a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of the art room fill your lungs to help you calm down. “I-it’s fine. Sorry about your shoes…” you murmur with an apologetic look on your face. Julie glances down at her once-white shoes, now covered in a misshapen rainbow of color.

“It’s cool, I kinda like them better this way,” Julie says. “Why don’t you sign them?”

“W-what?” you asked, completely bewildered by her request.

“Don’t artists sign their paintings? It’s just like that, except I get to wear them every day.” She flashed you a bright smile that you just couldn’t say no to (Not that you would ever say no to her in the first place). You sheepishly grabbed a paintbrush and a tube of black paint, nodding at her. Julie stamps her foot on the stool you were using, and your neck immediately snaps to the side in an attempt to avoid accidentally looking up her skirt, eliciting a hearty laugh from her that rang through your ears.

“I’m wearing shorts underneath, silly,” she says, chuckling at you. With a careful glance, you see that she is in fact wearing black shorts underneath her skirt. A wave of embarrassment turns your cheeks pink as you dip your brush into the black paint. The closer your hand got to her shoe, the more you began to tremble, making it impossible for you to produce an eligible signature.

“Am I making you nervous?” Julie teased with her sweet voice. You could only awkwardly chuckle in response, resorting to grabbing your wrist with your free hand and settling for a subpar signature. It certainly wasn’t your best work by any means, but the smile on her face as she looked down at her paint-splattered shoes made it all worth it.

“Thanks, Woohyuk! I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow!” She gave you one final wink before disappearing behind the closed door, leaving you stunned for the second day in a row. To you, Julie Han is an enigma. Not only was she absolutely gorgeous, but she was also eccentric, optimistic, and kind. How could someone so perfect appear in your life all of a sudden? Was this compensation for the years of suffering you have endured until now? It was simple - you were completely and utterly infatuated with her. As you cleaned the rest of the paint mess on the ground, you couldn’t help but contemplate whether you should be delighted at the prospect of seeing her again or terrified of the uncertainty surrounding the future.

______________________________________________________________

The math teacher’s unexpected illness and the lax attitude of the substitute gave you the perfect opportunity to sketch out your next piece during class. Sure, the painting of Julie you created yesterday was amazing, but you needed more than a single painting to showcase at the school festival next week. Unfortunately, it was difficult trying to capture her solely through memory and the sub doing nothing to control the now rowdy classroom only added to the difficulty. Suddenly, your notebook was forcefully torn away from you.

“Yah, Choi Woohyuk, what are you drawing?” Oh Yechan, the jerk who had been bullying you all throughout high school, chuckled as he gawked at your sketch with his stupid friends. “Isn’t this that new girl, Julie? What the fuck bro, are you stalking her or something?”

You felt the heat creeping up your neck with anger and embarrassment as the rest of the class started to pay attention to what was happening. The substitute had earbuds in, completely oblivious to the scene unfolding before him. All you could do was clench your fist and pray for a miracle.

“Not gonna lie, she is kinda hot though,” Yechan says, snickering. “We’re in the hip-hop club together, I might consider asking her out at the next meeting.”

His words only make you angrier as your jaw clenches and your fingernails start to dig into your palm. “G-give me my notebook back…” You try your best to sound confident, but all that comes out of your mouth is a frightened stutter. Yechan smacks you in the head with your notebook, causing it to fall on the floor next to you. The sketch of Julie was crumpled and torn just like your self-esteem at this moment.

“You wanna say that again, you little shit?” He growls into your ear, spewing his hot breath in your face. You gulped, wanting to shrink and disappear forever.

“He said to give him his notebook back, asshole.”

A hush fell over the room as a sweet yet stern voice was heard from the doorway. You glance over and see Julie, glaring angrily at Yechan as she stomps toward him.

“J-Julie, what are you doing he-” Yechan’s words are cut short with a smack to the face, courtesy of Julie’s hand. A chorus of “Ooohs” escaped everyone’s lips, and even the substitute became invested in this scene of petty high school drama. You could only sit there and watch, both relieved and embarrassed by Julie’s intervention.

“As if I would ever date some asshole like you,” she spewed before turning to you with a concerned look. “Are you okay, Woohyuk?” The caramel tones of her voice made you feel at ease as if nothing bad could ever happen when you were with her. Like a guardian angel arriving at the most dire times, Julie always found a way to make everything better. At that moment, you knew you wanted to be with her, to spend more time with her and get to know everything about her, but a voice in the back of your mind was telling you that you were inadequate. You couldn’t even protect yourself from one bully, what good could you do as her boyfriend?

Julie grabbed your notebook off the ground and handed it to you. “I’m sorry about your drawing. It still looks really good though, you even got my eye shape and everything,” she compliments, giggling. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as a warm blush coats your cheeks.

“I-it’s just a sketch-”

“YOU BITCH!!” Yechan suddenly reels his arm back and you instinctively stand up in front of Julie, protecting her from the punch. The last thing you feel is a sharp shock to the jaw before your vision fades to black.

______________________________________________________________

As your eyes creep open, you are greeted by an abstract silhouette of colors. Reds, browns, and creams were lazily pushed together against a background of bland gray to resemble some sort of human form. Confusion hit you first, but as your vision began to clear, the colors and shapes became less fuzzy and more recognizable until you could make out a vivid picture of Julie looking down at you. Her face was close enough for you to see your reflection in her eyes and the smooth texture of her skin.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Julie chuckles. “You had me worried there for a second.”

“Where am I?” You ask her as you sit up. A shooting pain hits your jaw, reminding you of the events that occurred before you blacked out, and your gaze falls to the floor as a wave of embarrassment hits you.

“You’re in the nurse’s office. The sub and I dragged you here after he sent Yechan to the Principal’s office. I heard he’s gonna get a month-long suspension,” she explained. You couldn’t help but feel slightly irked as this whole thing could have been avoided if the sub had done his job in the first place.

“A month isn’t long enough,” you commented, earning a small chuckle from Julie. Suddenly, she took your hand in hers, lazily caressing the back of your hand with her thumb. You felt your breath catch in your throat and you had to mentally remind yourself to breathe before you blacked out again.

“You were really brave back there,” she said, flashing you a smile of admiration. “Thank you.”

“I-I didn’t really do anything. You were the brave one,” you pointed out. Getting punched in the face wasn’t exactly an act of bravery in your book. Julie, ever the optimist, saw things differently.

“Well then, I guess we make a great team,” she jokes. The two of you share a laugh, alone in the nurse’s office of all places, sharing this intimate moment. You would gladly spend the rest of eternity in this small room if it meant getting to spend every second of it close to her like this. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end as the nurse walks through the door.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she says nonchalantly. “If the both of you are fine, then you two are free to head back to class.” The urge to lie and tell her that you were still feeling a little dizzy just so you could spend a little more time with Julie was strong, but Julie had already started walking to the door.

“Sorry Woohyuk, I have a test next period that I really don’t want to make up. I’ll see you after school, I promise!” With a bright smile so big that it makes her eyes look closed, she waves goodbye to you before shutting the door behind her. You admired how she smiled so freely and so fully as if nothing bad could ever happen to her. It became a precious gesture that you wanted to protect by any means necessary.

But what could you do? You were just a socially awkward painter, and she was everything. All you were good for was becoming a human punching bag for others. It was obvious how this story would end - your one-sided feelings would stay hidden and Julie would go on to date some other guy that could give her everything she could ever want. It was painful, but it was the truth.

Or so you thought.

______________________________________________________________

Thankfully, the rest of the day went by without any further incidents, and you were once again walking the familiar route to the art club room. Suddenly, a voice from behind you echoes through the hallway.

“Choi Woohyuk!” You turn around to see Julie skipping towards you with a childlike giddiness. “Let’s walk together!”

‘S-sure,” you utter, trying to mask your enthusiasm. As the two of you walk side by side, Julie links arms with you, sending a shockwave through your body, which she notices and giggles at.

“I’m not making you uncomfortable am I?” She asks teasingly.

“N-not at all.” While you were happy with the contact, you weren’t sure what to make of it. Was this just a friendly gesture she did with all of her friends? Not wanting to get your hopes up, you decide to change the subject. “Soooo, you heading to the hip-hop club today?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna quit the hip-hop club.”

Bewildered, you turn to her. “W-what, why?”

“I’d rather not be in the same club as that jerk Yechan,” she cringed. “Besides, I think it’s time that I try something new. Like painting.”

Her last words stopped you dead in your tracks. “W-what do you mean?”

Julie giggled cutely at your confused expression. “I wanna join the art club, and I want you to teach me how to paint.”

It felt too good to be true. On the outside, you were completely frozen, but on the inside, you were screaming and jumping for joy. “W-why?” You ask, attempting to stifle a grin.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be fun,” she answers simply. “I thought you would be happier since you’re basically obsessed with me.”

“I am not-” The warm blush that spread across your cheeks was answer enough; you were in fact obsessed with her. Julie grabs your hand and starts pulling you towards the art club room.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go, Woohyuk!” Hand in hand, the two of you run through the hallways, your laughter echoing against the walls. You received some looks from students and teachers passing by, but you didn’t care. Instead of suppressing your smile like you usually do, you allowed yourself to smile as freely as the girl whose hand you were holding. The girl who showed up out of nowhere like a bolt from the blue. The girl who you were in love with.

______________________________________________________________

In the week leading up to the school festival, you and Julie spent practically every second together. You would meet up during the passing period just to talk for five minutes, and during class, you hid your phone underneath books just to send her a quick text. After school, you would give Julie painting lessons while working on your own pieces for the festival. To others, her work could be considered elementary or sloppy, but to you, they were masterpieces that deserved to be displayed at art museums for the whole world to see. Some days, Julie would be your muse and pose for you, giving you new ideas and teasing you if you stared at her for too long. On one particular day, Julie was uncharacteristically quiet as she was completely focused on painting a vase of flowers you set in front of her. You found the way her eyebrows furrowed to be particularly adorable.

On the weekend, you even went on a little museum “date” with her to help familiarize her with famous pieces and techniques. While you insisted that it was purely educational, Julie didn’t cease to poke fun at you when she caught you looking at her instead of the paintings. On the day of the school festival, the two of you had successfully made enough paintings for an exhibit. While you were extremely proud of the pieces you and Julie made, you couldn’t help but feel nervous as you waited for people to stop by the art club room.

Julie noticed you being quieter than usual and gave you a worried expression. “Are you okay, Woohyuk? You don’t look so hot.”

“I-I’m fine,” you reassured her, but she wasn’t convinced. She led you to a nearby chair for you to sit on.

“You can talk to me, y’know. I’m here for you,” she said in a soothing tone. Her voice had a way of calming you down even in the worst of times.

“I’m just… nervous, I guess. What if no one shows up? We worked so hard this whole time, but if no one shows up, it’ll be such a waste.” Your head falls into your hands as you let out a deep sigh. Julie runs her hand gently through your hair in an attempt to provide you comfort.

“It’s not a waste at all. We had a lot of fun, and you taught me a lot about painting,” she explains before pausing in contemplation for a moment. Suddenly, her cheeks became tinged with a light shade of pink as she turned to you. “L-look, I was gonna give this to you later, but I think you need it now. Close your eyes.”

You raise an eyebrow at her in bewilderment. “What?”

“Just close them, Woohyuk!” She exclaimed.

“O-okay…” You decide to do as you're told instead of arguing. A couple seconds of nothing passes until the unthinkable happens: a soft warmth grazes against the flesh of your cheek, gentle and fleeting. The feeling lasts for less than a second, but the sensation lingers on your skin. You open your eyes and turn to Julie, whose light pink cheeks evolved into the red of a ripe tomato.

“J-Julie, did you just-”

Your words are interrupted as a couple walks through the doors.

“Hello, are you guys open?”

Julie jumps up from her seat, almost too eager to leave your side. “Yes, hello! Welcome to the art club, please have a look around!”

Slowly but steadily, the room starts to fill with more and more people, a larger crowd than you anticipated. For the next few hours, you and Julie would go around to each person, answering their questions and explaining your works of art. It was nerve-wracking given your track record with social interactions, but Julie’s presence alone was enough to keep you afloat. While you were happy so many people were there to check out your paintings, you weren’t able to ask Julie about what happened earlier.

Once the crowd died down a little bit, you went up to Julie to talk to her, but a girl with long black hair beat you to her.

“Julie!!!” She exclaimed as she embraced her. The two girls excitedly jumped up and down, squealing with excitement.

“Oh my god, I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow!” Julie beamed.

“I wasn’t about to miss my best friend’s first ever art exhibition! I can’t believe you made all of these, they’re so good!”

“Actually, I didn’t make all of them.” Julie beckons you over, flashing a wide smile at you. “Woohyuk, this is Natty, my best friend from my old school. Natty, this is Woohyuk, my art teacher and my… friend.” You noticed a small hesitation before she said “friend”, but the conversation moved on before you could dwell on it for too long.

“Oh, Woohyuk? So this is the boy you’ve been talking about, Julie. Not bad,” Natty says, winking at Julie. In response, Julie slaps her friend on the shoulder, eliciting heavy laughter from her. You could only stand there awkwardly, confused and out of the loop.

“A-anyways,” Julie interjected, blushing profusely. “I’m gonna give Natty a tour of the school, are you okay being here by yourself?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something first,” you utter nervously.

Julie looks at you with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, is it okay if we talk later? I promise I’ll be back within an hour.”

The urge to ask her about what happened earlier was strong, but it was impossible to say no to her, especially when she gave you that look. “O-okay, I’ll see you in an hour then. Go have fun,” you reassure her, trying to hide your disappointment. Julie gives you one last look before exiting the room with Natty, leaving you alone with the few remaining visitors left.

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Moonlight casts abstract shadows against the floor of the art club room. Everyone else had gone to watch the performances from the various music-related clubs, yet here you were, sitting on the floor of the art club room, waiting for the girl of your dreams to walk through the door. You had been waiting exactly two hours, 43 minutes, and 12 seconds for her to come back (you started counting ever since she stepped out of the doorway). You weren’t mad that she took longer than she said she would, nor were you sad that she isn’t there yet. You were just… waiting.

The silence gave your thoughts the space to roam freely in your mind, yet you were only focused on one thing. It hadn’t left your mind ever since people started entering your art exhibition. You so desperately wanted to know what it meant. More specifically, you wanted to know what it meant for the future. Was it a chance at a new beginning? Or was it just a mistake? Negativity and doubt began to seep through your brain like ink spilled on a blank sheet of paper. Were you meant to live the rest of your life in this unrequited love?

“Woohyuk!” Julie bursts through the door and runs to you, kneeling beside you. “I am so so sorry, Natty started talking to these boys from the rock club, and I couldn’t just leave her alone y’know, and then the concert started and I was gonna leave but Natty forced me to stay, and I’m so sorry Woohyuk, and-”

Without hesitation, you gently grabbed the back of Julie’s head and pulled her closer, planting your lips against hers. The rest of the world fades into oblivion, leaving the two of you suspended in this intimate moment. If Heaven was real, it existed in the way her soft lips felt against yours, perfectly gentle like a brush gliding effortlessly against the canvas. Every fiber of your being was focused on this silent exchange of love. As you finally pull away, breathless and invigorated, Julie stares back at you with stars in her eyes.

“Julie. I like you. I’ve liked you ever since I laid eyes on you. I like the way nothing ever seems to bother you. I like the way you’re so eager to learn and try new things. I like the way your eyebrows furrow when you’re focusing on a painting. I like the way you smile so freely. I know I’m not that strong or brave, but I want to be the one to protect that smile. You are so precious to me, and you have made my life so much better just by existing. I want to be with you and go on more museum dates and create more art with you. I really, really like you, Julie.”

An eternity passed as you waited for a response from her. The darkness made it hard to clearly decipher the expression on her face, but you could still see the universe reflected in her irises. Rather than embarrassment or anxiety, you were filled with determination. You weren’t going to waste your time anymore - if there was ever a time to confess, it was now.

Julie’s answer came in the form of a warm embrace, her arms tightly wrapped around your neck. “What took you so long?” She cried, her voice muffled by your neck.

The confidence you felt just seconds before was quickly replaced with worry. “J-Julie, are you crying?!”

She pulls away from you, revealing her teary eyes and a cute frown. “I was waiting for so long for you to confess, I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore,” she pouted. You gently cup her face in your hands, wiping away her tears with your thumbs.

“I was worried you didn’t like me at all.” Laughter filled the room as both of your worries quickly melted away. You give Julie one little peck on the lips to seal the deal, reiterating your feelings towards her. She sinks into your arms, resting her head on your chest, your heartbeats syncing into a singular rhythm. The moonlight casts its silver glow down on Julie’s shoes, painted and signed by you.

#kiss of life #julie han #kiss of life julie #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #julie x male oc #kiss of life julie x male oc #julie x male reader #kiss of life julie x male reader #fluff #julie fluff #kiss of life julie fluff

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archangeldyke-all · 1 month

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okay i’ve seen people talk about werewolf sevika but what about werecat sevika like she gives off such cat vibes she’s an introvert who so would love sitting by her window or on her porch watching things also i’ve always headcanoned that she literally purrs when you scratch her head so werecat sev just makes sense to me

YES i fucking LOVE THIS

this is what i think sevika would look like in cat form btw hehehehehe (send me cats u think sevika would look like too! i want to see all ur ideas)

men and minors dni

it all starts with a loose lab-cat. singed had pumped the thing with shimmer and underestimated its strength. he returned to the lab the next morning to a broken glass cage, quickly followed by hissing and hollering coming from the bar.

sevika stepped on the cat's tail where it had been sleeping beneath a table. in return, the cat sunk it's claws into sevika's calf-- four deep scratches running down her leg-- dripping half blood red, half shimmer pink.

singed told her she'd be okay.

he told her to go home and sleep it off and that she'd be fine.

singed is a fucking liar.

the next full moon, sevika turns into a cat.

not a panther, or a lion, or a fucking tiger or something cool. a fucking house cat. and a tiny one too.

she didn't tell anyone. who could she tell? singed would just try to strap her to a lab table and start experimenting on her. silco would probably just laugh. jinx might be her best bet if she wanted answers, but she fears that jinx would do something horrible like pet her or something.

so she just... deals with it.

the more full moons that pass, the more used to it she gets, and the more she can transform herself at will without the moon's powers.

she kinda likes being a cat. it's useful as fuck in the undercity, with all it's steep walls and drop-offs. it gives her crystal clear vision, even in the deepest darkest streets; it gives her great instincts, even in her human form, and...

there's nothing quite like finding a stray beam of sun and curling up for a few minutes to snooze on a peaceful day. both in her human and cat form.

which is how she meets you.

you live on a high floor of a big apartment building in the lanes. it's miserable climbing up and down the stairs multiple times a day, but the nice thing about it is you're high up enough to get some direct sunlight in your home for a good few hours a day.

you don't have a cat-- your landlord would kill you. but you keep a two little pots of catnip and catgrass growing on your fire-escape, a little tin of water and some tuna or chicken when you've got scraps to spare.

you've got a few cats that come to visit you a few times a week, all varying levels of friendly.

the white stray visits every afternoon to snack on your plants, sometimes bringing a skinny orange friend along with her. you let them be, watching fondly through the window as they groom each other.

there's a fat tuxedo cat that you know has an owner somewhere in the neighborhood, that seems to know when you set out food scraps-- always there in a flash to gobble them up. he's friendly as hell, meowing incessantly at your window until you open it up for him and let him come in to get pets for a few hours before returning home for dinner.

there's a new litter of calico kittens you've caught sight of. you think there's five or six separate kitties, but you can never keep track because they grow so and change so much between your sightings of them.

and then there's your newest visitor.

she's a unique cat, silver eyes, only three legs, her left front leg missing completely. there's blue scratches running down her left side, shimmering in the sun when the wind blows her fur away enough for you to see them.

and she doesn't eat any of your plants, or drink any of your water. most of the time, you come home and find her sleeping in a ray of sun. and every time when she wakes up and realizes you're home, the cat will jump up on your windowsill and simply watch you; her tail twitching occasionally in the wind, purring loud enough for you to hear through the little window as her silver eyes follow your every movement inside.

.....

sevika's fucked.

she's so, so, so fucked.

she's been fucking stabbed, twice, and she's loosing blood so quickly that she's starting to see spots.

the men who stabbed her are chasing her, and she's leaving a trail of blood right to herself. no matter how fast she runs, she's not going to lose them.

she's so woozy that she almost forgets that she's got fucking magical powers. she ducks into an alley and quickly transforms, before sprinting away. that takes care of those idiots beating her to death-- but it doesn't change the fact that sevika's dying.

she doesn't know where to go.

the last drop is way too far for her to get there before she bleeds out. she's got no friends in this neighborhood-- and people down here don't have the spare time, money, or sympathy for a dying street cat.

wait.

she knows someone who likes street cats.

someone sweet, and pretty, and always smiling and talking to her like she can speak human language. she can, but she knows your other cat visitors can't-- and it just makes her like you all the more- - the idea of you talking to some clueless cat, just like you talk to her.

she makes it to your fire escape just before her three legs give out.

and while her vision starts to fade completely, the clouds overhead move and a beam of sun shines down on her, the smell of your cat plants wafting over her as the wind blows.

well, sevika supposes. if i'm gonna die i guess this is the nicest place to do it.

you come home and find a dead woman on your fire escape... which isn't a total surprise in this neighborhood.

it's only when you go out to prod at her that you get really freaked out-- because she's not dead, just barely breathing.

you scramble to pull the woman inside your apartment, spreading her out on your bed and nearly throwing up at the sight of two deep stab wounds in her sides.

you've got some shimmer stored in your medicine cabinet in case of emergencies, and you quickly slide the liquid down her throat before scrambling to find something to stitch her side together with.

you aren't sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing when she starts blinking awake, groaning in pain and weakly trying to shove you away from her wounds.

"hey hey hey, wake up." you say, shaking her shoulders. she grunts and scrunches her face up. when her eyes blink open, your stomach twists.

you've never seen eyes that silver besides on the cat that comes to visit you. they're different on a person. much more attractive.

"uh..." you say, trailing off for a second suddenly realizing that the woman beneath you is very naked. and now that you're looking at her, the blue scars on her left side seem awfully familiar. you clear your throat. "uh, wake up." you say again, gently smacking her cheek.

she gasps awake when you start stitching up her second wound. "fuck!" she shouts. and then, she seems to process where she is. "fuck." she says.

you gulp. "uh, i'll get you a blanket." you offer.

sevika nods numbly as you-- the woman she's been shamelessly peeping on for the past year-- stumble out of your bedroom.

"i thought you were dead, honestly, and then you started moving and i got really freaked out. gave you some shimmer-- i hope you don't mind." you ramble as you walk back into your room, throwing a blanket over sevika. "is there anyone i should call for or...?"

"you're even prettier up close." she says. then she cringes.

fuck she didn't mean to say that. it must be the blood loss. and the shimmer. and your pretty eyes.

"uh..." sevika watches as you start to back away like you're scared, and she huffs before she gathers all her energy and transforms into her cat form. "what the fuck?!" you squawk as the woman in front of you disappears in thin air.

and then, a little lump under the covers starts to move.

and the three legged silver eyed cat comes crawling out, two new wounds on her side.

"what the fuck?" you ask, immedietly reaching forward to pet the cat in front of you. you don't consider that the cat is a woman-- it's your natural instinct-- you see a cat, you pet it.

but then the woman's back and your hand is in her hair and she's blushing all the way down to her tits which you can see because she's still naked.

"wha--"

"i'm sevika."

"hi, sevika." you giggle, slightly hysterical. sevika's blush gets even darker. "i'm--"

"i know." she cuts you off, then bites her lip in embarrassment and presses her head harder against your hand, like she's a cat. well, you suppose she kinda is. "i... sorry for stumbling into your life like this. i thought if i died as a cat i died in real life." sevika shrugs. "guess the whole nine lives thing is true, though."

"i don't--"

"i can leave, if you give me a pair of sweats or someth--"

"no!" you squeak. sevika smiles, and now you're embarrassed. "i-i mean... you're injured. you should stay until you're better..." sevika raises an eyebrow at you. "plus... you're kinda cute."

she grins. "as a cat or...?"

"fuck off." you giggle, crawling into bed beside her. "you've fucking... been watching me for a year! it's only fair i get to interrogate you, too, you creep."

"i-i'm not a creep!"

"you've seen me naked!"

"you didn't seem to mind at the time..." sevika pouts.

you can't believe how ridiculous this whole fucking situation is. sevika's blood drying into your mattress underneath the pair of you, but her skin is becoming more vibrant as the shimmer works through her system, flashes of pink sparkling in her silver eyes. she's practically purring as you scratch her scalp. you burst into laughter, and sevika grins up at you.

when you finally catch your breath, you shake your head and look down at the only sorta-stranger beneath you. "so, what are you... a werecat, or something?"

sevika groans before bursting into laughter with you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #i love werewolf sevika so much don't get me wrong #i just love the idea of 'scary' sevika turning into a sweet little kitty cat too she'd be so pissed f;laskjdf;lksj

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i-heart-emos · 9 months

Text

“ Can I try some”/ Luke Castellan

Pairing: luke x Ares!reader

Summary: your getting ready for a date with Luke when he sees u putting on makeup

Warning: nothing except it’s my first writing so it might be a little cringe

____________________________________________

You and Luke had both been very busy lately. With u being the head counselor of the Ares cabin and him being the head of Hermes, you guys had a lot of responsibilities. In between training and everything else we had no time to even hang out. So one afternoon while I was eating lunch with Luke when he abruptly turned to me. “ hey love wanna go on a date”. I laughed slightly “And where would you take me lover boy”. “ on an amazing picnic tonight at 7:00”. “We’ll ok then”

I smirked giving him a quick peck on his cheek walking up. Later “wait Clarisse does this look good” you say gesturing to you outfit. Clarisse rolls her eyes “y/n for the hundredth time you look fine”. I’m sorry I say shaking my head “I just want everything to be perfect I mean this our first date in months”.

As you get up to go to the bathroom you grab you makeup bag. You turn to clarisse one more time.” Ok but simple makeup or” you asked. “I swear I’m gonna beat you if you don’t stop asking me questions” she says groaning. “Ok ok I’m sorry I’m going”. As your almost don’t with your makeup. You Start working on your mascara.

You end up making funny faces trying to get it on your lashes. You hear a chuckle behind you. You whip your head around to see luke. “ why are you laughing at me” you say. “Oh nothing your face it’s just a little funny”.

“We’ll whatever” you say jokingly rolling your eyes. “No no I didn’t meant it like that it cute I swear just carry on”. As you continue the rest of your makeup he starts looking more intense.” Observing there I see” you say with a slight laugh.

Can I try some. You look at him with a smirk. Ok then you say lightly grasping his chin pulling him closer. You can see a slight tint of pink painting his cheeks. As you grab you eye lash curler he pulls back. “What’s wrong I didn’t even start” you exclaim. “ that thing looks like a torture device”. He says looking scared. “Cmon your so dramatic luke”. “Ok but if you slightly hurt me with that I’m never speaking to you again. Ok whatever you say.

“But you gonna need to stay still” you say grabbing his chin once again. You curl his eyelashes and put mascara on him and a little highlighter blush and lipgloss. “Ok and your done” you say with a wide grin. He look in the mirror and smiled. “ wow I’m hot as a girl too” he says pretending to to push his imaginary long hair.

“Whatever you tell yourself” “oh cmon your telling me I don’t look fine” he says smirking “ to be honest Luke I think your cuter as a guy. “Well I’ll definitely take that”. “Hey you guys have been in here forever you guys aren’t-“ Clarisse walks in giving the weirdest look “ you know what I’m not even gonna ask” she says exiting the room.

You and Luke look at each other as you burst into a fit of giggles. “Well I’m gonna wash my face now” he says “oh yea do that before we scare the rest of the camp” when he finally finishes he look at me and give me a peck. “Ready to now love” he says holding out his arms. “Never been more” you say grabbing he of his arm and walking out both of you smiling as the sun sets.

#fanfic #luke castellan #pjo series #cute #oneshot #luke castellan x reader

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teddynivvy · 3 months

Text

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ keep on loving you

pairing: neighbour!ted nivison x reader

warnings: smut!!! unprotected sex + creampie. mentions of alcohol consumption. afab!reader, no pronouns used. 2.6k words.

a/n: part 2 to starry eyes - please read that first for context!! this one is spicy and v v slightly angsty... tysm to everyone for reading + reblogging the first one, u are so appreciated. i hope u enjoy <3

⟡⟡⟡

and i'm gonna keep on lovin' you 'cause it's the only thing i wanna do i don't wanna sleep i just wanna keep on lovin' you.

Ted was never good at apologizing.

He never knew what to say, or how to say it the right way. Stumbled over his words, tripped over himself and went on tangents, usually resulting in the other person losing sight of what he was even apologizing for.

He feels like he got hit by a train when he wakes up the next morning - a mix of the alcohol from last night and the disappointment of how it ended, due to his own stupidity. A familiar hand on his chest and his vision hazy, the lapse in judgement to think for a second that maybe he’d made all this up. To go back to something comfortable, something easy. Until he heard the bathroom door click and realized how he could so easily fuck this up before it even started, and how he was worried he’d driven you away from him.

You weren’t doing much better across the hall, questioning what the fuck happened.

Had you misinterpreted this entire situation? Every movie night, dinner at his place, accidental nap on his couch? The nights spent sat on his balcony taking drags from the same joint, laughing into the night air and leaning back, stealing meaningful glances when you could. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you most of the time, the way the moonlight laid across your cheeks as you leaned against the chair, turning to meet his eyes through half-lidded glances. You would’ve kissed him right then if you could muster the courage, but instead, you caught yourself and bid him goodnight, usually getting back to your respective apartment and mentally cursing yourself. But, maybe you’d been right.

The few drinks you’d had, paired with the crying you did in the comfort of your own bedroom that night, were resulting in a pounding headache. You’d ordered yourself some food and planned to spend the entire day on the couch, hopefully avoiding Ted as much as possible. You’d already heard him open his door once this morning, where you’d looked through the peephole to see him in his pyjamas, going out towards the parking garage. You ducked behind your door, worried he might have seen you, letting out a heavy breath.

The day floated away as you curled up on your couch watching TV, avoiding looking outside, or really doing much of anything. It was hard enough to peel yourself off the couch to take a shower and put on fresh clothes, light a candle in your apartment, and try to think of a game plan to avoid Ted, possibly for the rest of your lease. The thought made your heart hurt.

Just as the sun was setting, bathing your apartment orange and pink from the sky, your phone buzzed on the table. A few seconds went by as you read the name on your screen, eyes widening to make sure it was correct.

[Ted (neighbour)] 8:08pm

Hey, are you home?

You blinked at the message, not sure what to do. Your heart fell into your stomach, as your mind started to consider what he might need from you. It would be so easy just to ignore him for tonight.

[You] 8:10pm

Yup

What’s up?

[Ted (neighbour)] 8:10pm

Can I come over?

Your stomach twisted as you held your phone in your hand, the message sitting unanswered. If you were being honest, the last thing you needed was to see Ted right now.

[You] 8:13pm

Sure

You heard Ted’s doorknob turn a minute later, followed by a soft knock on your door. On the other side, he looked disheveled - obviously unshaven, hoodie over his long torso as you pulled open the door, catching him in the middle of pushing his glasses back up on his face.

“Hey.”

“Hey, come in.”

You moved to the side and he stepped into your apartment, hands pushed into his pockets as you latched the door and avoided eye contact. You opened the cupboard to get out two mugs, looking up for the first time to see him already looking at you. “Do you want some tea?”

“No, thanks.”

You nodded and turned the kettle on for yourself, trying to fight back the emotion in your throat.

“Did you need something?”

You don’t mean for it to sound so harsh coming out, the bite in your voice coming out as frustration, immediately regretting it when you see his glassy eyes.

“No, uh… no. Sorry, am I bothering you? I can leave.”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly. “No, sorry. Long day. Hungover.” you laugh dryly as the kettle boils behind you, pouring some hot water into the mug.

“Me too. Can we talk?”

You motion him over to the couch to sit, where he nestles into the corner and rubs his palms on his sweater. Nervous.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry about last night.” It comes out like one string of words, and you can tell he’s been holding it in all day.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” You take a sip of your drink, nearly burning your tongue, but not caring because it covered up your hurt voice.

“No… there is. I… fuck.”

You wait patiently to let him speak, wanting so badly to reach out. Touch him, kiss him, comfort him.

“The girl you saw me with was my ex. There’s nothing there. No feelings or anything. I’m sorry you saw that.”

Ted gulped down his nervousness as you shrugged.

“I mean it just looked like you were flirting with a girl at a party. Nothing wrong with that.”

Being nonchalant was killing you - but it was true. There was nothing between you - not yet, not spoken - and Ted was free to do whatever he wanted. You just wished what he wanted was you.

“Sure but… fuck.” His hand wiped his mouth, another nervous gesture. “Can I ask you something?”

You sat farther into the couch. “Shoot.”

“Is there something here? Between us I mean?”

You felt your cheeks get hot. Like you were gonna be sick, every emotion you’ve felt over the last few months on the tip of your tongue.

“I thought so. Yeah.”

The air that hangs in your apartment is suddenly thick with tension, your confession hanging in the balance. You could feel his eyes on you as you stared into your tea cup, following the steam and once again, avoiding eye contact.

“But like, it’s whatever, you know?” You started to word vomit. “Like if you don’t… if you don’t feel the same way it’s no hard feelings. We can just be neighbours and hang out like… it doesn’t have to change anything.”

He exhaled, his smirk creeping onto his lips.

“I think I fell in love the moment I saw you bringing boxes in. The first day you moved in.”

You wanted to choke, chest constricting at his confession, your ears and cheeks getting hot.

“What? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“So, in that case,” you rested your cup on the coffee table and inched closer to him, tentative. “Your ex… is that someone I should be worried about? Do you still have feelings for her?”

He shook his head no, almost laughing to himself. “No. I… well, can I be honest?”

You nodded.

“I thought this,” - he gestured between the two of you - “would never happen. Got scared.”

You smiled to yourself, looking away for a second, biting back a smile. “So you made no moves on me and then gave up when I didn’t confess my love out of nowhere?”

Ted lets out his signature laugh at that, finally breaking the tension. “I guess.”

“Great plan, Ted.”

His hand came to find your thigh, his face not far from yours now. “It worked out, didn’t it?”

His lips captured yours in a sweet kiss, plush lips against yours as his hand found your jaw. You could tell he wanted more, so much more, but took it slow. His other hand on your thigh, making it up to your waist as you moved closer and let your hand find his hair. Your fingers threaded through the brown locks, tugging on them slightly to earn and gentle moan from him.

He pulled away to put his forehead against yours, slightly out of breath as the rim of his glasses pressed against your nose. You could feel the laugh bubble from your throat as heat pooled in your stomach. The sun was painting his skin a soft orange colour, your eyes meeting his as your hand came up to his jaw to feel his stubble.

“You’re so pretty,” is what he says, a whisper against your lips. “I’ve been waiting so long to tell you that.”

You pulled him in closer by his t-shirt and crashed your lips into his once more, moving forward to your knees. He sat back into the couch as you laid against him, feeling his arms wrap around you to keep you close. His tongue slipped into your mouth tentatively, welcomed by you as you moaned into him, feeling yourself start to get warm.

“Ted,” you pulled away, breathless as his hands started to grab at the skin of your hips and back.

“Yeah, what’s up? Do you wanna stop?”

You giggled into his sweater, blushing, smelling his scent on the fabric.

“No. Uh, actually…” you looked in the direction of the stairs. “Did you wanna maybe… go upstairs?”

His eyes widened, a smile on his lips as he nodded, pressing one chaste kiss to your lips before sitting up.

“Lead the way.”

⟡⟡⟡

You hadn’t really anticipated having Ted in your room, but he didn’t seem to mind. Your unmade bed, clothes from last night on the chair as he gently laid you down to your sheets, back hitting the mattress with a soft “thud”. You smiled into his lips as he kissed you once more, arms under your body to bring your head up to your pillows. He toyed with the hem of your thin tank top, broad hand against the side of your body as he pushed it up. An open mouth kiss to the skin of your hip and rib, before his mouth found itself around your nipple, sucking on the sensitive skin.

You felt yourself move against him, in need of some friction between your legs. You were so needy for more - having fantasized about this for months. His broad hand kneading the skin of your other breast, kissing and licking at you, the rim of his glasses pressing to your hot skin as you toyed with his hair.

“You’re so perfect,” he smiled, coming up to kiss you again. You leaned forward for him to pull your top over your head, watching his cheeks get red at the sight of you before him.

“I feel very naked compared to you,” you laughed, watching him bury his face into your skin before sitting up. He pulled his hoodie off with his t-shirt, abandoning it on the floor with your clothes, before laying back at your side.

“Better?”

“Mhm, much better.”

You found yourself attached to him again, hands down the front of his jeans, feeling the bulge straining against his boxers. It made you shudder, the weight and feel of him being hard for you, before you started to rub over the thin fabric. He mewled into your neck, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear as you rubbed lightly, his own hand coming to slide down your shorts in between your folds.

It earned a gentle groan from you at the contact, paired with his lips, his touch was intoxicating. Rubbing your clit as you gently found yourself exploring his waistband, your hand finally finding his heavy cock. His moans were euphoric when you finally made contact, his teeth moving to suck a hickey into your neck. You felt yourself buck into his hand, needed evermore friction between your legs, and to feel full of him.

“Ted, can we…” “Hm?” “I need you. Please.”

He wasted no time standing up, pushing what was left of his clothes down, as you pulled your shorts off to meet the growing pile of clothes. He climbed right back on top, grabbing the underside of your thigh to open you up, positioning himself at your ready entrance.

“This okay?” He asked nervously, cock heavy in his hand, pressing forward as you nodded. You felt yourself take a gasp at the feeling of him, filling you up, fully and completely. His hand came down to your side as he began to move, allowing you to slowly get used to his size.

Your arms found his shoulders, nails digging crescents into the skin there, as his lips found yours again. The sun had gone now, the room a pale blue, like so many nights spent together on his patio. The glow of his skin looked so perfect, groans as he sped up falling into your mouth like honey, warm and dripped with lust.

His hips rutted against yours just right, feeling your orgasm build easily. Your hands found his back as you slightly adjusted, wrapping your legs around him to force him into place, holding the back of his neck as he deeply and slowly fucked into you. Your gasps filled the air as you lightly smiled, kissing the shell of his ear.

“I could hear you,” you panted, “through the walls. I could hear you moaning.”

He turned to look at you, eyes dark with lust as he bit back a smile. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“What did you think?”

“I wished it was me,” you admitted, feeling him bottom out inside of you with a whimper. “I wished it was me you were fucking Ted, I wanted it so bad.”

He groaned into your neck at your confession, jolting his hips, and you knew he was close. You were too.

“I wished you’d just come over,” he whispered. “I was thinking about you every time. Everything about you. Fuck, I just wanted you.”

His words, paired with the way he was pushing up against your clit at a punishing pace, was enough to send you over the edge. Waves of pleasure as you tightened around him, arms pulling him as close as possible, gasping into the skin of his shoulder. He was close too, keeping the same pace to finish you off, before speeding up slightly and spilling everything he had into you.

His mouth found yours once again so you could swallow his moans, gentle whimpers mixed with groans of your name, ringed hand squeezing your thigh to keep it tightly locked around him.

When you could both catch your breath, you rubbed his back gently, kissing his forehead before he gingerly pulled out. You winced at the loss of contact, as he flopped over to your side, hand rubbing on your thigh. It was so serene - this moment of closure, rubbing his back and feeling his warm skin against yours, flushed cheeks and gentle laughs as you shared a few more soft kisses.

“I fell in love with you the first time I saw you too, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah? Hmm.”

He squeezed your thigh once more, bringing his hand to yours to grab and bring to his lips. Kissing each of your knuckles, looking up at you with a warm gaze.

“So... we could’ve been doing that for months?”

You giggled as you felt your face get hot.

“I suppose, yeah.”

Ted smirked as he pulled you close to him again, holding you against him, pressing kisses to your neck and chest.

“I guess we have to make up for lost time. Don’t you think?”

You nodded, pulling him into you again.

“We better start now.”

#ted nivison x reader #ted nivison smut #ted nivison fanfiction #chuckle sandwich x reader #chuckle sandwich fanfiction #nat writes

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daddyfordaeddy · 2 months

Text

Pairing: Yunho x f! Reader

Genre: Smut, very very light angst, established relationship, E for explicit

Warnings: Mentions of drinking/being inebriated, peer pressure, jealousy, smut warnings under cut

Word count: 1111

Smut warnings: Oral (f receiving), somnophilia (consensual, discussed beforehand but not shown), fingering (f receiving), cunnilingus, dom/sub (yunho dom yn sub)

This is for the jealousy collab with @flurrys-creativity (green-eyed, misguided), @sanjoongie (pink with jealousy, speak up), and @mingsolo (enough, before you go)!! Tis the first of two hehe i hope u like! The Jongho one will just be hurt/comfort, posted on @daemour ♡

You swear you didn't mean to. It's not often you go out with friends, and your FOMO was going strong after missing out on so many planned club dates. But you did try to say no, honest you did. Having someone write on your tits while you're drunk is not a fun time, and you made sure to chew out your so-called friends for letting that happen to you. But it doesn't mean you don't still dread facing your boyfriend.

Yunho, with so much patience for you, understanding, and love he has for you, sent you twenty texts and three calls after your friends posted your shame on Instagram. You told him it wasn't your idea, that you were coming home after sleeping off your drunkenness, and you know deep down he isn't truly mad at you. But it doesn't mean you'll get off scot-free.

He's been trying to get you to stand up for yourself more, and this counts as a huge setback in his book. You know you're in for some trouble when you finally reach your shared apartment door as the sun is rising.

Carefully, you creak open the door to see Yunho sitting on the couch, a barely-buttoned blue sleepshirt and black frames perched on his nose. His eyes are shut and you let out a slow, quiet breath at the sight of your boyfriend napping on the couch. You know you deserve whatever upset he directs at you, but it's nice to get a moment of peace after a long night of arguing with friends and trying to find your way back by yourself.

You set your back on the ground softly before heading to the shower to get the smell of weed and alcohol off your body. As you slip into pyjamas, you can hear the soft pad of feet on the hardwood floor, and you know that Yunho has woken up. Before you can turn around and apologise, you feel his slender arm wrap around your waist and pull you into his side. "Hey, baby," he whispers, pressing his face into your neck and pressing a soft kiss there. "We'll talk more in the morning. Let's go to bed first. And then we’ll find you new friends."

Happy for the break before the unavoidable conversation, you nod in agreement and let him lead you to the bed, settling down and turning to cuddle into Yunho's warm chest, letting your eyes flutter shut.

The last thing you feel before falling asleep is his lips on your forehead.

When Yunho wakes up, he stares at your small, sleeping form curled up by his side. The sight of you is so sweet he almost forgets his annoyance, but after you sigh in your sleep and turn over, one of your shirt's buttons pops open and he can see a hint of marker that you couldn't scrub off last night on your plush chest. Heat blazes in his heart again and he tsks, shaking his head and sitting up properly and undoing your shirt completely to look over his boobs.

How dare your friends pressure you into that? Yunho grits his teeth for a long moment before leaning down to lave his tongue over the flesh of your breast, kissing your nipple. You moan quietly and turn a bit in your sleep, but you do not wake and Yunho raises an eyebrow.

The two of you had talked about this, and both of you agreed to allow each other to play with the other when asleep as long as there’s no coitus occurring. The idea of waking you up to his mouth on your cunt burns in his mind until he makes up his mind and slides down the bed until he’s almost level with your legs, the only thing covering them is the almost-sheer shorts.

As Yunho’s breath ghosts over your thighs, he pushes your shorts to the side, not even bothering to take them off as his eyes train in on your pussy. Carefully, slowly, Yunho presses his long fingers against your cunt, sighing low in his throat as your velvety folds part and his fingers kiss your hole. Your legs twitch but a snore escapes you and Yunho chuckles before pressing his lips to your clit.

You’re soft and warm, and Yunho can’t help but press the flat of his tongue against your clit until you let out a soft moan. His eyes flick upwards but you’re still asleep. But waiting has become boring now, not when the sting of your activities last night still pinch his heart.

He pushes his fingers in your hole, feeling your slick gather on his fingers and he sucks your folds between his teeth, groaning at the sweet-salty taste of you on his tongue. Without further ado, he pulls his fingers out and then pushes them back in, curling them just right to your sweet spot and then–

Fingers fly down and grip his hair as you finally awaken, a loud moan slipping out your mouth as your thighs clench. “Yunho–” you gasp, but Yunho can’t bring himself to look up, focusing on swirling his tongue around your clit so well that your thighs shake and he can feel you dripping out around his hand. “Shit–”

You’re close already, Yunho thinks, and gives you one harsh suck as well as twisting his fingers so perfectly. There’s a sharp tug to his hair and Yunho lets you pull his head up as you come, cunt clenching so hard around his fingers as you come, moaning loud with your head thrown back.

“Morning,” Yunho rumbles low in his throat, his teeth glinting in the sunlight. “Have a pleasant night?”

Your face is flushed and Yunho thinks if he leans in, he could probably feel the heat radiating off your skin. “I– it was okay,” you squeak out, and Yunho shakes his head.

“Try again. Was it a nice night? Did you like it when another man touched your chest?” He punctuates his question with his fingers pumping once in and out of you and you lick your lips and moan softly.

“N-no,” you fix your mistake. “My chest is yours only.”

Yunho nods, pleased. “That’s right, baby. Let’s see…he signed your chest with eight letters? Let’s make that eight orgasms okay? Can you do that for me?”

He’s giving you an out, but you find that perhaps you don’t want that out, because you nod eagerly. “Yes– God, yes.”

“Good girl.” He twists his fingers again, and your hands scramble to grip the bedsheets. Yunho smiles down at you, reminiscent of a predator stalking his prey. “Remember, you’re only for me.”

#ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho fanfiction #yunho fanfic #yunho smut #yunho #jeong yunho

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siriussslut · 5 months

Text

casual: mary macdonald

“knee deep in the passenger seat, and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?”

warnings: explicit smut, oral sex, semi-public sex, and worst of all- a situationship

masterlist

okay guys let me know if you want me to make this a multiple part thing cuz there are quite a few lyrics about sex in this song + it could end with them getting together. hope u enjoy! 💞

———————————————————————

“hey,” mary slides into the driver’s seat beside you. she’s in a short, pink, floral dress with an empire waist, accentuating her breasts. not that they need to be accentuated. your gaze drops to her exposed cleavage.

“so i was thinking we could go see the movie and then stop at…” she trails off when she sees where you’re staring. she smirks. “or we could just stay here.”

you’d rather it honestly. it’s much harder being “casual” on a literal date. and casual’s what mary wants, isn’t it?

“or we could just stay here.” you repeat. you’re in her car, parked in an open garage.

“we can’t go inside, my family’s home.” she’s staring at you like she wants to eat you. like she’d unhinge her jaw just to swallow you whole.

“well we have- room.” you gesture to the car. you don’t really. it’s a small, old beetle, but you two have made do in tighter spaces.

she grins, climbing onto you. she straddles you, pressing your lips together in a kiss.

“you’re so hot,” she mumbles in between kisses. her dress is short enough that it doesn’t cover beneath where she sits, and mary’s almost always wearing a thong, so her bare ass is pressed up against your thighs.

“you’re so hot,” you say back, squeezing her ass. she reaches for the chair levers as you kiss. her tongue slips inside your mouth just as she pulls, pushing the chair as far back as it goes.

she breaks away, sliding down before the seat. you spread your legs, knees sticking up, one poking out the car. you help her unzip your shorts, tossing them aside. she pulls your underwear to the side, lips slick and red, plump from kissing. “fuck, you’re so wet.”

she removes your underwear, tossing it along with your shorts.

“what if someone sees us?” the garage door is about three-quarters up, the setting sun bathing the two of you in shades of pink, red, and orange.

“then you better come quick.”

you moan the moment her lips connect with your pussy. she licks between your folds, collecting your desire on her warm tongue. “you’re so delicious.” her nose bumps into your clit as she talks into your lips.

you press your hand against your lips, stifling a whine so loud her family would definitely hear.

she licks her way up to your clit, engorged and waiting. her lips wrap around it as she uses to fingers to spread open your hole.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” she says around your pulsing bud, slipping two fingers inside your cunt.

your fingers tangle in her curls, pushing her face deeper into your sopping pussy.

she kisses your clit, before sucking on it like candy. her fingers thrust in and out of you, filling the garage with pornographic squishes.

she’s devouring you like you’re her last meal, all while fucking you at a brutal pace. through dancing spots, you see an older man turn the corner of the street.

“m-mary,” you mumble in a fucked-out daze. “someone’s getting close.”

she loosens her oral grip on your clit to talk into your pussy, soft and silky. “then come. come into my mouth, baby.”

she presses kisses on your clit, nibbling gently with her teeth. as the man nears, something inside you snaps. you moan into your hands, barely succeeding in muffling the whimpers of mary’s name.

you close your legs as he gets close enough to see, still riding the high of your orgasm.

#mary macdonald #mary macdonald smut #mary macdonald x reader #mary macdonald x reader smut #marauders #marauders smut #marauders era #marauders era smut #marauders girls #marauders girls smut #marauders era girls #marauders era girls smut #smut #harry potter smut #hp smut

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trendywaifus · 6 days

Note

Okay,how Nicole demara with an S/O that loves taking care of her and helping her out with her business.

i’ll make this a hc!

— getting spoiled by you is an experience she grew to absolutely adore (she won’t admit that).

she’s looking at her nails, grumbling about how it’s time to get it done. the polish is peeling from her nails and it’s starting to annoy her. you gently grab her hand, bringing it up to your lips to kiss the pad of her fingers. nicole’s already red, pink lips parted with surprise as she verbally questions what you’re doing.

“ do you want me to pay for them, nicole? we can get them done today. “ you offer, kissing her pointed finger one more time before letting them go. secretly over the moon by your gesture, she shyly averts her lowered gaze to somewhere else that isn’t you.

“ y-yes, i would like to, (name). “ she trails off, stifling back a dopey smile on her face. she’s def gonna brag and show off later.

— when it comes to doing little side gigs like selling drinks, food, or whatever, you’re the one who’s prepping the items. nicole’s the one setting the prices. nekomata, and the other two are either doing their own thing or helping out in some way. for some reason, you sell the most between you and nicole and it annoys her. it annoys her because you’re very easy on the eyes, so people are naturally drawn to you and find the need to flirt with you while you’re trying to do business. you’re hers, damnit. does she have to stand by you so those pesky people can stop the funny business, buy her stuff, and go?

“ meow, it seems like they’re at it again.” nekomata comments, looking at the growing line of people waiting to buy a popsicle from you. nicole merely grumbles, quietly watching everything from afar as you politely hand the two women cold treats.

“ oh before we go, you have such a beautiful smile. are you single? “

“ no, i’m not. sorry. “

“ aw, well i hope to see you around, cutie! “

nicole’s brows twitch.

you wave goodbye at the two women before welcoming a group of men. one of the men shoves a guy from the back to the front, appearing awkward and fidgety. “ erm, can we all get a popsicle? is there a deal going on? “

“ mhm, since there’s like 5 of you. 5 for 10$. “

“ damn. 5 for 10$? “

“ u-um, i’ll take it, “ he stutters, digging in his beach short’s pocket for his wallet. he hands you a ten dollar bill and you give him the pack of popsicles.

“ al-also, i’ve been watching you—not like a stalker or anything! but like—“

“ meow? you totally sound like a stalker.” nekomata remarks, hearing the conversation closely. “ what? nekomata! what are they saying other there? i can hardly hear anything because of these damn seagulls!” nicole snarls, adjusting the visor on her head to block off the sun from her eyes.

“ the guy is hitting on (name), but, he’s. . not scoring. “

“ good! (name)’s is my partner, anyways! they better go search somewhere far away to find someone perfect like them, hmph! “

— i can imagine you and nicole being the best duo when it comes to collecting money from scamming clients.

the four, beaten up men kneels in fear as you tower over them with a smug smirk on your face.

“ so boys, “ nicole comes up behind you and rest a hand on your shoulder with her other hand on her hips, “ we now have an understanding, right? “

“ y-yes—yes! we do! please, no more! “ one of the men begged, clasping his hands together desperately.

“ good~ make sure you pony up the cash by tomorrow or we’ll make sure you won’t be able to piss straight for a month. “ nicole threatens, smirking menacingly at the men. they all let out noises of fear and nervously bobbed their heads.

with an arm wrapped loosely around her waist, you add on, “ you better listen to my girl, or i’ll make it two months for your goofy asses. “

#nicole demara x reader #zzz women x reader #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader

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mopopshop · 3 months

Note

wait i sent a request like two days go where reader had a kid from a previous relationship would u mind writing it with Paige instead 😭

Found Family (Paige Bueckers x OC)

summary: At 21, You are balancing motherhood and new love. After getting pregnant at 17, you co-parent with Caleb, Rya's mostly absent father. Now dating college basketball star Paige Bueckers, Paige steps up as a mother figure to Rya.

might make this a series 🫣 like an assortment of little fics and blurbs from their life, i’d love for yall to give me requests about this family and like situations for me to write but just lmk🫶🏾

hope you guys enjoy!!

It's a warm Saturday morning, and the sun is filtering through the curtains, casting a golden hue on the bedroom walls. You can hear the faint sounds of Rya giggling down the hall, probably escaping from her room to grab her tablet. Beside you, Paige stirs, her arm instinctively wrapping around your waist.

"Morning," she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep.

You turn to face her, smiling softly. "Morning."

Paige stretches, her blonde hair a mess from sleep, and you can't help but think how beautiful she looks, even in these quiet, unguarded moments. She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before sitting up. "I'll go check on Rya."

You watch her leave the room, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. Paige has been a rock in your life, not just for you but for Rya too. At 21, you never imagined your life would look like this, but with Paige, it's better than you ever could have hoped for.

After a few moments, you decide to join them. The smell of pancakes fills the air as you make your way to the kitchen. Rya is sitting at the table, her eyes glued to her tablet screen, a half-eaten pancake on her plate. Paige is at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.

"Mommy!" Rya's face lights up when she sees you, and you can't help but smile. Her happiness is infectious.

"Hey, baby," you say, giving her a quick hug before moving to Paige's side. "Need any help?"

Paige shakes her head. "I've got it. Just sit and relax."

You do as she says, pouring yourself a cup of coffee and watching the two of them interact. Paige is so natural with Rya, so loving and patient. It's something Caleb never quite managed, he and you had a coparenting agreement, but his presence in Rya's life has been sporadic at best.

"Paigey, can we go to the park today?" Rya asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

Paige looks at you, a silent question in her eyes. You nod, and she turns back to Rya. "Of course, we can, kiddo. After breakfast, we'll get ready and head out."

Rya claps her hands, beaming with joy. You can't help but feel a pang of guilt. You wish Caleb could see this, could be a part of these moments and be a dad to Rya. But then you look at Paige, and the guilt fades. She's stepped up in ways you never expected, becoming an additional mother figure to Rya without hesitation.

After breakfast, the three of you begin to get ready for the park. Rya dashes to her room to brush her teeth and find her favorite sneakers, while you and Paige tidy up the kitchen. You rinse the last of the dishes as Paige sneaks up behind you, hooking her chin over her shoulder and wrapping her arms around your waist.

"Ready for a fun day?" she asks, her breath warm against your neck.

You lean back into her embrace, a smile spreading across your face. "I guess, it’s hot as hell out there though."

Paige chuckles, kissing your cheek before letting go. "Cheer up, it’ll be fun. I’m gonna go help Rya with her outfit," she says, heading down the hall.

Once the kitchen is clean, you go to your bedroom to change. Opting for a cute Skims athletic set and after you head to Rya's room to grab her.

Paige is in her room, seated on her bed and sporting a basic t-shirt with basketball shorts while Rya’s dancing around the room. She's already picked out her outfit—a bright pink dress and her favorite sneakers. She looks up at you with a toothy grin. "I'm ready, Mommy!"

"Almost, sweetheart. Lemme brush your hair first," you say, grabbing a brush and gently working through her tangles.

Once you finish Rya bolts from her room to the front door, bouncing on her toes, her excitement palpable. "Let's go, let's go!"

You grab your bag, making sure you have everything you need—snacks, water, sunscreen. Paige helps Rya with her small backpack, and you all head out the door. The walk to the park is filled with chatter and laughter, Rya skipping ahead and pointing out every interesting thing she sees.

"Look, Mommy! A butterfly!" Rya exclaims, chasing after it with her arms outstretched.

You smile, watching her with amusement. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Paige chuckles beside you as Rya stops suddenly, bending down to pick a small flower. She runs back to you, holding it up proudly. "For you, Mommy!"

"Thank you, baby," you say, taking the flower and tucking it behind your ear.

Paige grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "You look even more beautiful now."

You laugh, nudging her playfully. "You’re so corny"

Rya resumes her skipping, pointing out a bird perched on a tree branch. "Paigey, look! A bird!"

Paige nods, waving at the bird. "Hi, Mr. Bird!"

Rya giggles, imitating Paige. "Hi, Mr. Bird!"

At the park, Rya takes off towards the playground, her joy uncontainable. You find a shady spot under a tree and take a seat on the bench. Paige sits beside you, her hand finding yours, fingers intertwining.

"This is nice," you say, leaning your head on her shoulder.

Paige kisses the top of your head. "It is. We need to do it more often, i’ll start begging Coach to give us more days off”

You laugh softly. "Good luck with that."

Paige smirks. "I have my ways."

You watch Rya climb the jungle gym, her laughter ringing out as she makes a new friend. After a while, Rya runs back to the blanket, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Mommy, Paige! I made a new friend! Can we have a picnic now?"

Paige smiles, opening the picnic basket. "Absolutely. Let's spread out the food."

You help Rya sit down, and she starts excitedly unpacking the snacks. "Look, Mommy! I brought my favorite cookies!"

You laugh, feeling the warmth of the moment. "Good job, baby."

The three of you enjoy the assortment of snacks, sharing stories and laughter. Rya munches on her cookies, happily chattering.

"Mommy, guess what?" Rya says between bites of her cookie. "My new friend likes the swings too! We took turns pushing each other."

You smile, nodding. "That's great, Ry. Did you have fun?"

Rya nods enthusiastically. "So much fun! And she said I can play with her again next time."

Paige chuckles, taking a sip of water. "Sounds like you made a good friend, Rya."

Rya looks up at Paige with wide eyes. "Paigey, can we come back to the park tomorrow?"

"We'll see, kiddo," Paige replies with a grin. "Maybe if we get all our chores done."

Rya pouts playfully. "Okay, I'll be super helpful!"

You laugh, reaching over to ruffle Rya's hair. "I have no doubt about that."

Paige shifts the conversation. "Man, I forgot we still have that paper to finish for US Lit”

You sigh, nodding. "I know, I've been dreading it. I haven't even started the conclusion yet."

Rya looks between the two of you, curiosity evident on her face. "What's a paper?"

You explain, "It's something we have to write for school, like a long story about a certain topic."

"Oh," Rya says, thoughtfully munching on another cookie. "Can I read it when you're done?"

Paige laughs. "Maybe when you're a bit older, Ry."

The conversation flows easily and eventually, the snacks are gone, you all start packing up. Rya helps by collecting the wrappers and putting them in the trash bag.

After the picnic, you decide it's time to head home. Rya's energy starts to wane as you walk back, and she holds onto Paige's hand, yawning.

"Think someone needs a nap," Paige says with a knowing smile.

Back home, you tuck Rya into her bed, brushing a kiss on her forehead. Rya mumbles sleepily, "Love you, Mommy. Love you, Paigey."

"Love you too, babes," you both reply in unison.

With Rya down for her nap, you and Paige retreat to the living room. You both have coursework from the university to catch up on. Paige grabs her laptop, settling on the couch, while you take a seat at the dining table with your textbooks.

"How's that paper going baby?" Paige asks, glancing up from her screen.

"Slowly," you admit with a sigh “It’s just so.. goddamn boring”

“Need me to come over there and entertain you?” Paige says mischievously

“No you horndog, do your work”

Paige laughs, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. But I'm here if you need a break."

The next couple of hours pass in a comfortable silence, the soft sound of typing filling the room. When you both finish your work, Paige stands up, stretching her arms. "I'm gonna start dinner. Any requests?"

You smile, feeling a wave of gratitude. "Whatever you feel like is fine."

Paige grins and heads to the kitchen. You tidy up your study materials and join her, helping with the prep. The kitchen fills with the delicious aroma of spices and home-cooked food.

Dinner is a relaxed affair, the three of you sharing the meal and talking about the day. Rya, now well-rested, is full of energy and stories. After dinner, you go through your nightly routine. Paige handles the dishes while you give Rya a bath.

Rya giggles as you wash her hair, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Mommy, can I have a bedtime story tonight?"

"Of course," you say, wrapping her in a fluffy towel and carrying her to her room. Paige joins you, sitting on the edge of Rya's bed as you read her favorite storybook. Rya listens intently, her eyelids growing heavy.

When the story ends, you kiss her goodnight. "Sleep tight, baby."

Paige leans in, adding her own goodnight kiss. "Sweet dreams, Ry."

With Rya asleep, you and Paige retreat to your room. Showering before you change into comfortable pajamas, the day's events catching up with you. Paige pulls you into her arms, and you nestle against her, feeling safe and loved.

"Today was perfect," you whisper.

Paige kisses your forehead. "Every day with you and Rya is perfect."

With that you drift off to sleep, your heart full.

———

#women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa #wnba #wlw #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers blurbb

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ladybirdswritings · 8 months

Text

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: Spending more time with the miserable Mr. Snow, against your will, only proves to you exactly why he is a man you have sworn to loathe for all eternity. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: so happy you all loved the first part — so i guess i’m continuing ahaha. as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated! also, feel free to lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

two

The mist of September’s end and October’s greeting is a thick, heavy blanket in the air. You only scowl at it as you pick up your tiered skirt from where it drags against emerald moss and dirt. A storm is nearby.

You would melt into this very soil if you could. Become one with the lilacs and peonies if it meant you’d never be prevailed upon to marry again by the force of your mother.

Mama is unwell. As always but, with more fervor now. The dance was most successful for Jane. She and Sejanus have been exchanging kind letters with pomegranate stained kisses garnishing the print. Even so, mama is viciously unhappy.

The cherrywood cabinets slam louder when you pass, and her eyes narrow at any mention of the gathering. Perhaps your behavior was a great embarrassment for her. If only you were as divine as Jane.

The house is lively, far too lively for your liking at this settling hour. Sisters here and sisters there. They busy themselves with the grand piano and awful singing. It isn’t long until one of the twins rushes forward with a sealed envelope clasped tightly in hand.

“Mama! It is for Jane!”

You snatch the paper from her palm, worrisome that she will ruin it with how tightly she squeezes. Beyond this, you are most eager to see the development in your own personal romance novel starring your dearest sister. Mama slaps your hand away in turn, tugging it back into a monstrous grasp that nearly shreds it to minuscule little pieces.

You see the breath halt and dwell comfortably in her throat, unwilling to part or falter. This is most important to her, trivial matter as it is.

So long as Jane is happy…

You gaze on at the girl with petal-pink cheeks and bright eyes — her smile is a thing of beauty and joy at the mere idea that Sejanus Plinth could admire her.

“Mama! What does it say!”

Her hands tremble like hummingbirds now, and your frown stitches itself promptly upon your pretty face. Oh no, he is certain to have changed his mind.

At least he was kind and gentleman enough to inform dear Jane by letter.

That joy, excitement and eagerness once swimming within your mother’s eyes has dissipated to sheer horror.

“When did we receive this?” She whispers, a ghastly and terror laced sound.

“This morning!” One of the twins happily offers, twirling her chocolate ringlet tight enough to knot.

Mama cries out a sound of agony, shoving the paper hard against Jane’s chest — enough so that she stumbles. She is a frantic thing, running round your quaint living space like that of a farm animal who has lost its head.

You are fueled by your own confusion, constricting your mind to only wait upon Jane. She shakily reads the crumbled thing — hesitance becoming her. Her eyes shift then; a look of joy, excitement, fear — then dread.

“What is it?” You whisper, watching as mama mutters nonsense and brushes the collection of scattered breadcrumbs from the countertop — eyes wide as the moon aglow at midnight.

“Mr. Plinth and his sister, alongside Mr. Snow and sir Plinth’s dear — rich uncle, have all planned to meet with us this evening. They’ve taken a carriage, and have made arrangements to arrive by sundown.”

Four pairs of eyes, in perfected unison, glance into the grassy plains where the sun has begun to set.

You do not intend to giggle at the irony, perhaps it is a thing fueled by nerves just as your mother. Yet it floats from your sweet lips like a prayer, slender fingers rushing to suffocate it.

It is undeniably numerous, however. How could it be anything but?

The way your dearest blood all melts at the brim for the gaze of three men whom are only important by cold silver is a thing of great mystery to you, something you do not understand. It is not just mama and Jane and the entirety of your own family however. No, it is all of society. You only wonder what it would be like for a woman to reach beyond the horizon line — to be great. To not be forced upon a man of all creatures to be of true importance.

Mama rushes past, so quickly your hair becomes unruly. She presses her palms firmly against your cheeks — your face piecing together like a swift minnow from the nearby fish pond.

“Oh heavens — if you do even the littlest act so to embarrass me, I am certain to die of great illness. My nerves are far too weak, you must behave for me! Be as sweet Jane is. Sir Plinth’s uncle is of the richest gentleman in Newbury, 5,000 a year! You must converse with him, do it for your dearest mother. Oh! And brush that wild hair from your face, girl. He will think you to be a witch — keep guard at the window.”

Her words are a tangled, knotted mess of all the things you despise. Even whilst tucked away into a place where you do not truly listen, you know well she is asking you to be social for gain of a husband.

You frown, grateful when the headless chicken runs off from you again. Your hand fussses with the wisps rested amongst your forehead — and you obey mama’s orders by sauntering to the creaky old chair that faces the fogged front window.

The fog is a veil, a curtain hiding from you only dread. You are grateful for it now, though it does no good for your locks and tresses. Your eyes dart to the torn book beside you — and you consider disobedience as an alternative to this state. You know well what will happen if you stray, so you do not dare it.

It is an awfully timely and punctual arrival — perhaps ten ticks of the grand, tower clock before the stallion’s snouts peek through the fog. Just as the golden halo sets beyond them.

“Mama!”

You call, but she only waves you away with a busy hand as she continues fussing with the knit table mat. You will not bother it again. You shrink, hiding all but curious eyes behind the lace curtain.

Sejanus is grinning, nervously you think. Then the scowling sister, a small, old creature with a sunken gaze — and the miserable one. They approach, you sink further.

“God Sejanus, smile any more for the poor thing and your pockets will start betraying you.” Grace sneers, voice sewn tightly with disgust at the less fortunate situation your family finds themselves in, glancing around at the quaint, pathetic home. It is as if she believes one breath of hers will cause it to collapse to the soil — to her polished feet.

“Please Grace, she is the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Oh, uncle, her eldest sister is very agreeable as well. Don’t you agree, Snow?”

Oh, he’s asked the cold thing who’s far too proud and rich for a humble party. You’re curious.

“Perfectly tolerable, I suppose. But not pretty enough to tempt me.”

Oh…

Your mischievous, sneaky grin melts into that of a hard line — ample with annoyance. How arrogant of him to say. As if his blonde locks and blue eyes make him any different than the handsome officers that pass by now and then. As if he is some prize. You scowl, Grace’s laugh an unpleasant sound.

Four hard knocks and you are quickly up to your feet.

Mama rushes to you immediately, slapping your hand enough so that it stings greatly and fades the color crimson.

“You were meant to watch! Places, take your stance girls!”

It takes beyond the greatest force to drag your feet to stand beside Jane. Mama checks each forced position anxiously before she tugs the door open wide — with a horrible, eager grin.

“Welcome!”

They trail the moss and dirt onto your oak floors, not bothering to wipe it away on the torn cloth you call a carpet. No need, they believe. The house is pathetic already as it stands. No dirt shall make it any less worthy than it already is.

In unison, a curtsy of greeting becomes all of you. Prim and proper and perfect just as mother groomed you all to be. For preparation of husbands.

Good god, the blonde looks even more dreadful now. Cold eyes darting to the old, harmless hound that chews on a racket ball. He winces at the sight of dust and chipped oak wood furniture surrounding. He looks down upon this place as if it is beneath him.

He far from belongs here.

“Sit, please sit! I’ve already prepared us supper!” Mama practically pushes Sejanus with most nervous palms, and his shadows follow suite.

Though you dream of running through the open door and fading into the mist to never be found again — you obey; sauntering into the archway with tired eyes and reluctant feet.

“My lady…”

Oh.

The short man with bushy brows and coal colored, untamed locks pulls your seat back enough so that you may sit upon it. To your dismay, the miserable one takes place in front of you. His eyes are cast downward to the far from fine silverware laid before him.

“Thank you sir.” You whisper, the chair feeling as though it is determined to suffocate you the longer you sit upon it.

“Oh, Jane — everybody, please meet my uncle, Mr. Casca Highbottom of Bristol.”

You only nod at the grinning old man, and mama rushes back like a midnight breeze through the archway — setting plates filled to the brim with but all of the food left for the entire month. Even so, it remains poor to a gazing eye. Though it matters not how little garnishes the porcelain, for when you catch gaze of miserable Snow pushing his few peas around in disgust, you cannot help but narrow your sight.

How can he be so proud? Certainly, if a humble gathering invited you in for a warm meal in this awful mist — you’d be most grateful for even a singular pea on your plate. Let alone twelve.

Grace laughs at the sight of Snow displeased — placing a soft palm against his knee beneath the cherrywood table. He spares her laugh a glance, and his lip twitches in what appears to be an amused smile. They talk lowly to each other, you notice it from where you peer behind your glass. She must be fond of him what with the way she touches him and leans closer with each word he speaks. You cannot possibly imagine why. Perhaps they are just alike. Rich, rude things.

“So — I dare ask if any suitors captured your heart at the party then?” Grace, she speaks to you now. You snort, ready to offer words of disdain and disgust toward the lot of men and their sweaty palms. Your mother’s cold glare silences you.

“No… they did not.” You mutter in quick defeat.

“Hmm, how dreadful…” it is mock sympathy, noticeable to both you and Jane.

Tension thins to a mere string lacing the table together. Silence blanketing even more so than the mist as worn silverware and mama’s embarsssing tangents erupt in painful harmony. You are grateful for Jane who manages to pry her eyes from Sejanus for a single moment so to save you from mama’s disapproving glare at your silence. She is selling you to the short man, it seems. She has been for the entirety of this meal.

“It is not as though gentlemen do not flock to my dear sister…” Jane starts. “It is simply that she is far too preoccupied with her books to notice them. She is an avid reader, adores her novels you see. She possesses great talents because of it!”

You hoped Jane would be so kind as to avert the attention. Yet it remains stable upon you, the available wife — as cattle with clipped ears. You feel as though you are livestock being powdered and pressed for the market. If the short man is buying, you’d rather be butchered.

He is awkward and stout and his jokes are uncomfortable as they are just rude. He is far from a gentleman and all the reason you deny each hand bestowed to you in the first place. For reason of men like him.

“You write?” Snow inquires.

Those cold, devoid eyes are locked upon you — and despite wishing to send him away to never return so you may be free of his arrogance, you only peer up at his gaze through fanned lashes to see them commanding an answer of you. Awaiting one.

“Occasionally, sir.”

His gaze doesn’t falter, nor does the gaze of Mr. Highbottom, even as he presses a boiled potato to his tongue.

“What of?”

What a silly question, you think. What else would a woman of your age and lack quill about?

It baffles you to find him curious. Perhaps he does not wish to seem obviously rude any more so than he simply is — perhaps he is only creating small talk.

“What else, sir? My thoughts and desires, my ideas. Romance — dramatics…”

“Oh but she just despises poetry!” Mama interjects, as if to end the conversation and refocus it upon your eligibility. Even when she speaks, Snow does not spare her a single glance. His eyes, they still rest upon you.

“You do? I thought poetry to be the food of love.”

You dare a snort then, suffocating a fit of laughter with a spoonful of food. You take your time chewing it, only offering more words when you realize that the conversation does not seem to be at its end. No. It cannot be. Not when he looks at you in a such an expectant manner.

“A poet writes of women in the gaze of all men, which I do not believe to be a true show of adoration. Perhaps it is the food of love — if you want to suffocate it. Stone it till it remains no longer.”

His next words come quick, immediately almost. As if he is grasping at the first chance to reply, much to Highbottom’s dismay whom snaps his mouth shut after losing the opportunity. Every eye in attendance is on the both of you.

Do they think you to be an enigma? You wonder…

“What do you recommend then? To encourage affection between two people…”

You do not know why he asks you this, but you can only assume it is because he wishes to embarrass you. Grace’s sharp gaze morphs into that of an amused smirk. Why would he ask the only woman seated what encourages affection when she cannot obtain it on her own?

You are certain then of his intentions. To mock you in front of Plinth’s sister, his uncle. In front of your blood. He does it so subtlety that if you were not bright as you are — you would most certainly miss it. He is a fool, a great fool because miraculously — you can reciprocate.

“Dancing… even if one’s partner is only tolerable.” You almost sneer with a tilt of your head and raise of your sharp brow.

If something truly clicks within him, it is most quickly dissipated. Most tricky to see. Sejanus clears his throat, and Highbottom — rude creature, erupts into a fit of laughter with a mouthful of food. Your mother is nervous, she joins him.

Grace only gasps, and Jane’s soft features are laced with confusion at the thing only you five are lucky enough to understand.

You remain stoic, challenging his eyes and his tense, twitching jaw with proudness.

“Shall I fetch dessert mama?”

Your mother nods through fits of forced laughter, and you take the opportunity to lift upon your feet. The chair scrapes against the creaky panels and nearly topples as you rush into the quaint kitchen and away from him.

It brings you joy knowing that he has nothing further to say.

You are smiling, terribly overflowed with pride as you place canned, sugared peaches upon ten porcelain plates. How proud he must have felt to speak lowly of you, a girl he spared little words to at a party he refrained from dancing at for it was too poor for his liking.

You disliked him then — but a chat with miss Lucy-Gray Baird while passing by in town confirmed all of your prejudice. She claims to have been treated most coldly by him whilst he was courting her. He offered his hand, then fled into midnight when he grew bored of her. Only the next morning.

He is as any other man is. A heartless hound. His behavior in your small home only further proves your prejudice is with more than enough reason.

You take longer than you should selfishly, and when you return — your gaze locks upon Sejanus who is entirely enamored by the sapphire gaze of Jane.

Mama aids you in placing down the plates you juggle. It is a poor dessert, but one that is most delectable.

“Oh well, your daughter is most precious. Funny, too! How uncommon for women.”

“Oh please uncle, we all have our wit. She is just peculiar, I daresay.”

Mama laughs at Grace’s words, and you only offer a polite, tense smile before being seated once again. It is you now that pushes your food around your plate, fading into the mist truly as you remain silent.

They speak of things you care the least bit for — all irrelevant matters to your mind. You are grateful when wine is poured, you nearly inhale it and garner a slap on your hand once again from mama.

You need it to get thought this.

Highbottom and mama speak of you, she tells him lies. How much you wish to be wed, how eager you are to find a lover. All contradictions of Jane’s earlier lick of truth. The rich fool believes her, his eyes cast upon you like poisonous darts. Slowly suffocating you.

Sejanus is preoccupied entirely by Jane — and the miserable one chats lowly with the scowling sister.

“Well, how about some music and dance? Lizzie, off to the piano!”

Your youngest sister lifts — eager to press her hands against the keys. It will be a mediocre melody but one that offers enough sound so to dance. You wish to stay glued to the table as they leave you to the living space — but mama tugs at your braid harshly, you have no choice other than obedience.

Sejanus kindly offers Jane a hand — and you feel as though you will just sink entirely into the floor as Highbottom approaches. Your heel turns you swift as you try and find even a small bit of space in this little home.

A navy vest with a crimson rose tucked into its pocket cages your escape. You never thought to see the day you’d be grateful for the cold blonde who cuts in front. You nearly collide with him.

“Dance with me.” He commands.

How baffling…

You do not notice the tension settled within your features until your brows ease in confusion. Your chin is pointed upwards — enough so that he can be equal to your gaze.

“Are you asking this of me — or ordering sir?”

His jaw ticks once more, but he does not follow up with any more words. The cleared throat of the short man behind you is enough reason to pick the far less uncomfortable poison. You’d rather be fueled by annoyance as opposed to discomfort and dread. One dance is all.

“Fine.” You mutter, sealing your fate and betraying your swear to be far away from the man whom you loathe entirely.

He is a pale thing up close. Birth marks kissing silken skin, soft as the moss kissing your shoes. You are grateful that this dance does not require touch — only the occasional closeness.

You follow him to where Sejanus and Jane stand — his head nearly reaches your ceiling. His palm hovers over yours, eyes downcast on your pretty features. Grace is scowling, again.

Your fingers twitch as Lizzie begins the sonnet, and you follow his lead.

It surprises you greatly, how well he dances. Though his mouth is a hard line, and his eyes are like round lumps of charred coal. He is noiseless.

“Are we to dance in dread and silence, Mr. Snow? I dare comment on this awful weather, now you may follow with a remark about the food. How much you despised it.”

You catch a glimpse of him, a suppressed twitch of his lips. As if the words offended him. Maybe amused him. You step forward and then back, frayed skirt floating against the movement. He follows suite.

“I could comment on how you dance. I am happy to inform you it is more tasteful than how you cook. Please do advise me on what more you want me to say to you.”

You stumble by his words — and his eyes dart to your clumsy feet. They are stable soon enough, circling him like a shark in vicious waters. His words upset you.

“Mama and Jane prepared the meal. I only prepared the peaches; but I do believe that if a family was kind enough to welcome an abrupt attendance with a warm meal — I would not be so complacent about its contents. You see — we are not all so fortunate to have garnered inheritance, Mr. Snow.” A cold melody, but one he would be a fool to ignore. It is all true.

Now it is him that halts. He steps forward, dipping his head low. Your eyes wander to his gloved palm — it clenches then flexes outward; all evidence of his annoyance with your words.

There you both stand, Sejanus and Jane alongside the twins, mama and Highbottom swirling around you. You do not know where Grace lurks.

You both are still, he stands a tower above you. His eyes pour heat into your own, admonishing you — offended with your words. It is as if the room is only filled with the two of you, the lace of connection between you just your anger. Even in your short time being familiar, it is strong.

“Do you imply that my inheritance is all the reason for my success?” He forces through clenched — perfect teeth.

“Perhaps I do sir, miss Baird of Newbury certainly agree—”

The hand that lays against your side is snatched into his own. He squeezes it tight now, eyes wide and swimming with disapproval and frustration. It has been resting at the surface, but bound to crack.

“Oh I’m certain she does. I am sure she told you the many tales of her troubles and woes brought upon by her time spent with me. You won’t speak to her again.”

It is you that steps forward now, so laced with upset that you do not notice your poor and worn shoes are stepping upon his tip toes. Up upon the rich and shined leather. Your chin is pointed upward, your stance tense.

“You command me as if I am wed to you sir, but I am not. You have come here, unannounced and unhappy with your humble plate as if we are all but a quaint inn with poor maids. Just because we gather little and obscure and we do not have pockets as generous and full as yours does not make us beneath you, Mr. Snow.”

The music halts, and your eyes shift quickly to find a concerned Jane gazing on — alongside your horrified mother. How crazed you both must look now. Stepping upon his toes with palms clasped — anger and upset becoming you both.

You release his gloved hand and part your soft lips to dismiss yourself — yet a strike of lightning cracking from above the grayed sky is a gift given, a distraction from beyond. Yet alongside it? A curse.

The horses startle, lifting to their hind legs before running far and fast with the carriage. Grace cries out from where she sulked in the shadows, and Sejanus alongside his uncle run after the wild beasts. Your sisters and mama follow.

“What are we to do!?”

“Grace, please be calm. We will fetch them.”

“We cannot travel in these conditions, boy.”

“You may rest here!”

Dread is a serpent that wraps tight round your throat — making the pounding of your heart halt entirely.

It is all a blur, but by the end of the lively conversation it is decided. They will stay. They will all stay. You bow your head, crossing your arms round the beating at your chest so to protect it.

“Excuse me.” You whisper, so low it is taken with the breeze from the open door before rushing up your dilapidated steps; knowing full well that the hospitality offered by mama, selfish reasoning or not, is the last thing a man like Mr. Snow deserves…

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