#a spot of tea and scones

[demonic0angel]

DP x DC: Alfred dies, and becomes a ghost. Being a responsible sort, he has Batman call up the expert in ghosts, Danny Phantom to help explain his new condition.

Phantom politely clapped his hands. "Welp. You're a 100% certified ghost!"

Batman stared. "... I'm sorry, what?"

Phantom gestured to Alfred, who was glowing green and floating as he set out the tea and teacups.

Phantom received one with a quiet thanks and he took a sip of the tea with obvious enjoyment. "He's a ghost. You said he died, right? He must have had such a strong obsession that it tethered him to the mortal plane. His core is pretty well-developed, most likely because he experienced so many moments of death and spent so much time around the dead. It also helps that Gotham City is prone to spirits and ghosts, especially since Lady Gotham likes you and your family so much. All of it means that because Alfred died here, around you guys, he became a ghost."

The amount of information Phantom gave almost made Batman's head spin.

"So... what now? Do we need to do anything?"

Phantom smiled and dipped his head before shaking it. He turned to Alfred. "I'll write you a permit and some time in the next two weeks, you should go to the Ghost Zone to ask for an audience with the King. Usually, ghosts aren't allowed in the mortal realm, but since you're only to stay in the Wayne Manor, I'll allow it as a favor to Batman. Still, it's best that you at least make it official for easier paperwork."

Alfred nodded curtly, rubbing his spectral fingers together.

Batman visibly softened and looked at Phantom with a grateful look. "Thank you."

Phantom smiled. "No problem! Thank you for taking care of my siblings."

Batman blinked. What siblings?

Before he could ask, Phantom blipped out of existence.

Batman stared at the spot where he used to be before he turned to Alfred. "... do we know what siblings he's talking about?"

Alfred nodded. "I have an idea."

Batman waited for an answer. There was none. Alfred continued to set up the refreshments for Bruce, who sighed and took a scone.

Well, he supposed he'd have to ask his children for answers.

[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here / masterlist

Six thirty in the morning might be your favorite time of day. 

It’s the before.

Before anyone else comes in, before the morning rush, before the chime of the front door’s bell, before the shop is filled with lines of people, before it all upends you.

At six thirty in the morning, you sit in the back, perched on the prep table, with a fresh cup of coffee. You leave the side door open, screen separating you from the world, fresh air mixing with the smell of strawberry basil scones, cinnamon coffee cake and mini kolaches, fruited with whatever jam you’ve managed to throw together. Steam rises, semolina spills, the sun dawns, and the world wakes… all well after you’ve had your breakfast.

This corner of the city is busy, and the shop always hums like a well-oiled machine in the dregs of a rush, the front counter team churning out specialty coffees and teas effortlessly. It’s cyclical, similar faces every day, morning commuters rushing in and out, locals settling in a nook with their laptops and lattes, people swinging in for a quick bite. You hide in the back, usually, elbow deep in sudsy warm water with your mountain of dishes, answering the occasional shout of 'do we have more of-' and 'just sold the last-'

This morning in particular, cranberry orange scones, pumpkin muffins and mini quiches are the only things left cooling on the speed racks, waiting patiently for their turn to be placed in the display case, an endless cycle of replenishment lasting until the rush dies down, morning fading into afternoon, triple shot monstrosities turning into decaf coffees. 

It’s laborious, this routine. Five, six, sometimes seven days a week, going to bed with the sun, rising before it. Your wrists ache from rolling dough, cutting dough, scraping dough. Your back weeps when you lift the bowl from the mixer stand every morning, and your joints fare no better. You need new boots, and new insoles for your new boots, and probably a new standing mat, though you know your boss will never go for it. 

You’re tired.

The exhaustion settles into your bones easily today, wearing you down until you’re allowing your eyes to close, wilting atop the butcher’s block- 

The shop phone rings. 

You heave yourself down and swing through the double doors to the front, scrambling for the classic corded receiver, nearly fumbling it in your hands. 

“Hello?” Shit. You always forget to answer with the shop’s name. You’re not exactly the customer facing part of the operation. “Galaxy’s.” You correct and… wait. 

There’s no response. 

You think you can hear someone breathing, something rustling, but it’s too faint and difficult to make out. 

“’Lo?” You try again, but still, there’s silence. It’s an unending moment, you on one end… who knows what on the other, and you hold your breath, straining to hear, to listen. 

The line clicks dead in the next second. 

Odd. 

The shop girl is chewing gum. 

You’ve told her a million times not to chew gum when she’s working the counter, but clearly, she’s never heard of norovirus, and you’re not the boss, or the owner, so being the broken record only gets you so far. 

“There’s someone out front to see you.” She snaps it between her front teeth, and your molars grind together like stone. 

“Who?” You toss a clean towel on the stainless steel table in the middle of the kitchen with a frown. You don’t really get visitors here, most of your friends are in the same industry, and either work the line too late to be up in time to even get coffee somewhere, or are already at work, buried beneath a bain-marie and the never-ending sound of a ticket printer. 

There’s dried, caulked dough caked to your fingers, shoved up underneath your nails, and you brush them self-consciously against the ratty old apron stretched across your waist. 

The surprise lingers on your tongue, and then explodes when you spot the massive dusky blonde from the other day, the one who was with the guy who split the coffee all over your favorite dress. He’s too tall, and too broad, and too imposing, everything in your sense of self-preservation screaming at you to run when he notices you approaching, gleam of a predator sparkling in his eyes.  

Still, somewhere, tucked away, it thrills you, the idea of them, the balancing act, two halves of a whole. He’s etched from stone, strong and steady, while his partner is saporous, vibrant, and riotous, crystal blue eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun. 

You wonder what they're like. What they talk about. What they do.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Your skin prickles once you fall into his orbit, immobilized by the molten toffee pooling around his irises. You float for a second, tracing his knife’s edged jaw, the fullness of his lips, imperfect pieces puzzled together to make a masterpiece, and then crash back to earth quickly, realizing you’re standing in front of him… staring. 

“Uh. Hi.” What is he doing here? How did he know where to find you?

“Sorry to barge in on you at work.” He starts immediately, wallet appearing from his back pocket like a magic trick. “Wanted to make sure we settled up.” Thick fingers hold a folded nest of notes, and you stare down at them, slowly processing what he means.

Cash? 

“Oh, I… I have… venmo. Or we could use apple pay, you didn’t have to come all the-“ 

“Don’t have venmo.” His mouth tilts, and you go with it, head listing to the side like a wayward buoy. “This is easier.” He pushes it into your hand, peeling your fingers back to enclose the money in your palm, heat sparking up your spine. 

“How did you know where I worked?” You blurt, unable to keep it at bay any longer. The question singes, settles uncomfortably in the sparks between you. 

“Saw you in the back yesterday, when we were in for a cuppa.” Oh. Suspicion sheds, snakeskin left behind on a cold, dusty trail, suspension of disbelief settling in the back of your mind. Sure. After all, this is where you ran into them last week, on your day off. They do come here. 

“Well. Thanks.” 

“It’s our pleasure. Hope the stain came out okay.” 

“Oh, yeah. It’s… still at the cleaners.” This is absolutely false, but he doesn’t need to know that. The spare bills will probably go towards your energy bill, and the ruined dress will go in the trash. 

It is what it is. 

“Couldn’t help but notice when I was comin’ through the parking lot that the back door is open.” His voice swoops low, dropping into a rumble, and you blink, lips parting. 

“Oh, um y-yeah. I like the breeze.” He shakes his head, a simple rejection, leaving you spinning. 

“City’s not the safest right now, yeah?” Oh, yeah. Of course, you knew. Rival factions of organized crime were leaving a red sea of bodies in their wake all over town, a new murder popping up in the headlines nearly every week. 

But you were safe. You were fine. Galaxy’s had never been stained with the bloody touch of any of them, and you took it as fact. Permanence. 

You agree reluctantly, watching the storm clouds roil on across his expression before evaporating. You shrug, hands clutched in your apron, doubt and skepticism clear on your face.

His expression shutters. His eyes turn cold.   

His thumb and forefinger dart through the air, latching onto your chin. 

You freeze. You should tug away, jerk backwards, yell and scream and hiss, but all you can do is stand there, caught in a trap and trembling as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. 

“Lock the door, little doe.” 

[uhhlifeig]

Hagrid's Hut - Nov. 4 - word count: 403 - @wolfstarmicrofic

The soft clink of teacups and the crackling fire filled Hagrid’s hut as two figures sat next to each other, their chairs at a rickety wooden table. 

The hut was warm and dimly lit, with an earthy, herbal scent from the mugs of tea in front of them.

Sirius Lupin swirled his with a spoon, eyes twinkling as he leaned back, grinning. “Remember that time we snuck out to the Forbidden Forest? In second year?”

Remus chuckled, wrapping his hands around his warm mug. “When James got us lost?”

His husband snorted. “Duh. He had the worst sense of direction, before fifth year. You were the one who finally led us back. If it were up to James, we’d still be in the forest.”

“Not my proudest moment,” the werewolf said with a smirk, “but I think the centaurs got a good laugh out of it.”

They both laughed, lost for a moment in the memories. 

Hagrid, bustling in the corner, set down a plate of scones. “Ah, you lot were a handful, that’s fer sure,” he said with a broad grin. “Dumbledore would look th’ other way, but McGonagall… well, she had a look on her that could freeze a mountain troll, and that’s sayin’ somethin’!”

Sirius grinned. “Oh, Minnie. I swear, every time she confiscated a dungbomb, she’d keep it somewhere she knew we could find it. I think she had a soft spot for us Marauders.”

Remus laughed, shaking his head. “Sirius, you’re absurd. McGonagall was horrified.”

“Only mildly,” the dog animagus winked. “In a fond sort of way.”

Hagrid chuckled, balancing a teacup on his hand. “She might not admit it, but she loves ye, all four of ye, like her own. And yeh sure gave her a lot o’ gray hairs in return.”

The younger man sighed, looking into his tea with a fond smile. “Those were good days,” he murmured, quieter now. “Before… well, everything.”

“Moony, you dramatic fuck, Prongs and Red are outside with Harry and Wormtail and Reggie. What are you talking about?”

“Sorry. Sometimes that nightmare I had a few Halloweens ago just- comes back. It always feels too real, y’know?” Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes.

There was a beat of silence before Sirius sat up straight. “Oh! The one where I went to Azkaban? And Harry was orphaned and Peter betrayed us all? And Alice and Frank went insane?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

[pigeonpeach]

My lovely Wife

Aka Arlecchino and reader short! More baby lynette mentions as she is my favorite

Alrecchino is a dangerous woman. No woman or man dare to think otherwise. Many orphans are taken in across Tevyat and turned into perfect spies and warriors. She herself was one of them, she herself slit the throat of the previous Knave, taking his crown and dawning it herself. Indeed she is a woman who blood has stained her hand. So much so she’s certain there’s still dried bits under her nails that she cannot reach.

Still its in moments like these that her heart seems to make its presence known. She watched as her new caretaker was enjoying a tea party with the children. Using normal cups, some actually having non caffeinated tea. She recognized it as not being apart of the regular set in the kitchen. Oh how soft they look like this. On their knees as the children pretend to be discussing high topics or drama of fictional adults as if they were elitist ladies. Lynette in particular seems to enjoy this play. She sips her non caffeinated tea like a proper lady, her tail relaxed as she is sat right next to her mother. She notices how safe Lynette seems to feel around her mother. As shes close to her and seems to constantly look over at her to mimic her holding of the cup and posture. There are a set of small scones and treats too, likely prepared by mother as well. Lyney and Freminet being the only boys at the table. Most of the girls seem to be enjoying this play. Arlecchino smiles at this domestic scene, but she heads to her office before she is spotted. For blood is staining her sleeves and she wouldn’t like to ruin the moment.

When she comes back the children and them are still playing now a new game. This one being hide and seek. She smiles from the shadows spotting Lyney behind the couch. He spots her and seems embarrassed but she puts a finger on her lips. He nods in understanding as she approaches her beloved, her back turned as she counts down.

“Are you having fun?” She asks quietly, but her voice still sends shivers down their veins.

“O-oh! Yes. Yes.. did you need something.” Embarrassed they quickly turn around.

“No no. I just like watching you play with the children. You don’t mind if I watch correct?” She asks. She spots the blush on their cheeks.

“N-no its quite fine.” Arlecchino smiles as she sits on the couch. “Would you like anything?”

“Maybe some tea.” She asks. They nod as they quickly get her a cup to pour. Arlecchino watches Lynette emerge from her hiding spot as if to get some tea herself. Her little tail seems excited as she stealthy approaches her mother figure. Arlecchino smiles as Lynette appears to be eyeing the teacup. She quickly hides as to not be caught, while Arlecchino carefully takes the cup from their hands. Immediately upon turning around she watches as Lynette is caught. She smiles as Lynette now joins her mother in finding the others.

Its a rare sight to see the Knave smile. So for the children upon noticing their father they’re also surprised to see her smile. Nervously Lyney approaches her, his hat is still too big for his head as it regularly moves downwards to encompass his face. He quickly pushes it up.

“W-would father like to join?” He offers innocently. Arlecchino looks at her children with a rare hint of vulnerability.

“I’d be delighted to.” She said.

[bradshawsbaby]

Sprinkles of Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: It's Bob's birthday and you want to do something special for him. The problem is that you've only been on two dates, and you can't get out of your head about making that first move.

Word Count: 6.6k

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday to my #1 Guy, Lewis Pullman! I thought we all deserved some sweet Bob fluff to celebrate!

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, featuring the jitters and nervousness that comes with a new relationship.

You glanced at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, your fingers itching to reach for it where it sat taunting you on the counter near the cash register.

Biting down on your lower lip, you peeked surreptitiously over your shoulder before finally picking it up, your finger hovering hesitantly over the green messages icon.

“Are you finally going to text him or are you just going to keep staring longingly at your phone all day?”

Your cousin’s teasing voice startled you, pulling you out of your silent reverie as you fumbled the phone, nearly dropping it to the floor in your haste to get a grip on it and shove it inside your apron pocket.

Alexandria just laughed in response, her dark eyes sparkling as she slid a tray of freshly baked oatmeal raisin cookies onto one of the display case shelves. Normally, you would have complimented her on how amazing they smelled, but given the knowing smirk she was sending your way, you stuck your tongue out at her instead.

“Stick your tongue out at me all you want,” she told you, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “But I know you, and I know how badly you want to text him. So why don’t you just do it already and save yourself all the torment?”

“Lexie,” you groaned, your phone suddenly feeling like a rock inside your pocket. Why did your cousin have to know you like the back of her hand?

You were saved from having to elaborate, however, when one of the timers dinged in the kitchen, signaling that the newest batch of muffins you and Lex had put in a little while ago was finished. She shot a pointed look in your direction, making it clear the conversation wasn’t over, before turning on her heel and going to take the muffins out of the oven.

Since it was the usual mid-morning lull and the only customers currently inside the bakery were a college student working on her laptop near the window and two elderly ladies enjoying conversation over scones and tea, you figured you should be both a good cousin and a good employee and go help Lexie in the back.

Despite the fact that you had already been working at the bakery for a few months now—ever since you had moved to San Diego—you still couldn’t help but be blown away whenever it hit you that your cousin had really accomplished the dream she’d been chasing since you were little girls. For as long as you could remember, Alexandria had been wanting to open up her very own bakery, a cozy little spot where people could come to read, hang out, and relax, all while enjoying some homemade treats and delicious coffee. It seemed like just yesterday that the two of you were playing with her Easy-Bake Oven, and now here she was—living the dream as a successful small business owner. You couldn’t have been more proud of her. Or more grateful that she’d given you both a job and a place to live when you’d decided to follow in her footsteps and make the move out to California.

Lex was like the big sister you never had. She gave the best advice and she knew you inside and out. Which was normally a good thing, but judging by the way she was looking at you from under her dark lashes, you knew today was going to be one of those days where she insisted on pushing you out of your comfort zone.

You sighed in exasperation as you helped her set the freshly baked orange cranberry muffins—a favorite among her loyal customers—on the cooling rack. “I wish I hadn’t even mentioned it. It’s not that big of a deal,” you insisted, supremely conscious of the weight of your phone pressing against your thigh as you worked.

“If it’s not that big of a deal, then why do you seem to be making it one?” Lexie replied with that razor-sharp wit of hers, winking when you shot her a dirty look over your shoulder.

“I’m not!” you insisted, although you knew that was a complete and total lie. You were being ridiculous and you knew it, but every time you even thought about sending him a message, your heart started pounding inside your chest and your palms got all gross and clammy.

Lex crossed her arms over her chest, throwing an exasperated look heavenward. “Babe, you’ve already been on two dates with him and he wants to take you out on another. Do you seriously think you’re going to send him running for the hills if you send him a text wishing him a happy birthday?”

When you heard it out loud, it did sound pretty stupid. He was such a great guy, so sweet and attentive and caring, and he had done nothing to indicate that he was losing interest or that he would be freaked out by such a simple message. But still…

“I do want to text him,” you confessed, biting your lip as you carried the empty muffin tray over to the large sink where your cousin washed all her baking supplies.

“So what’s holding you back?” Lexie asked, her voice gentler this time as she leaned her hip against the counter, clearly trying to understand. She’d seen your heart get broken enough times to know that you were much more cautious now when it came to entrusting it to other people.

You sighed softly, fiddling with the strings on your pink-and-white striped apron as you tried to put your feelings into words. “It’s just—we’ve only been on two dates. I mean, they were really amazing dates, but still. Only two. And our birthdays only came up once in passing on our first date. He never mentioned it again, even when he called the other night to ask me if I’d like to go out this weekend. So on the one hand, I do want to text him to wish him a happy birthday, but on the other hand, what if it weirds him out that I remembered? What if he thinks I’m some kind of obsessive stalker and gets the ick and then ghosts me?”

“For wishing him a happy birthday?” your cousin questioned skeptically, her eyebrows rising until they were practically touching the edges of her blunt bangs.

“I’ve been ghosted before for less,” you muttered in embarrassment, knowing that your love life was a disaster compared to your cousin, who had been with her soon-to-be-husband since high school.

Lex softened immediately, stepping beside you and wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. “I know,” she murmured soothingly, rubbing your arm with a gentle hand. “But those guys were jerks who didn’t deserve you. From everything I know about this guy, he sounds so great. He seems like the kind of guy who would be happy that you remembered his birthday.”

Honestly, you couldn’t argue with her there.

Bob Floyd was unlike any man you’d ever met before. He was everything you’d ever hoped to find but had feared you never would, the kind of perfect that seemed too good to be true, the gentleman that you had thought existed only in fairytales.

It had been over a month now since he’d stepped off a storybook page and walked into your life.

You could still remember that afternoon so clearly. It was a Saturday, and the bakery had been surprisingly dead. Lexie had decided to run to the bank, leaving you in charge of things in her absence. You’d been rearranging some of the pastries in the display case when the bell over the front door chimed, signaling a customer.

Stepping up to the counter, the words of greeting died in your throat when one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen in your life approached, a shy smile stretching across his face.

“Hi,” he greeted you in a soft-spoken voice, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, and yet you’d never seen a guy look better.

“Hi,” you echoed, your eyes widening as you got lost in a gaze as blue as the cornflowers that grew in your grandparents’ backyard.

The two of you just stared at each other for a couple minutes, neither of you saying anything, even as the air between you seemed to spark and hum with electricity.

“Um, I was, uh, hoping that you still had some cupcakes left. I know it’s a little later in the day and my neighbor who recommended this place said that you should always get here early, but, um, I have a little barbeque that I’m going to and I wanted to bring some dessert. I’m hopeless at making anything myself,” he rambled, his eyes crinkling as he laughed somewhat nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was only when he cleared his throat awkwardly a moment later that you realized you hadn’t yet responded to him.

“Oh! Cupcakes!” you exclaimed, your voice coming out a little louder and squeakier than you had intended. “Of course!” Running your hands down the front of your apron, you shook your head slightly to try to knock some sense into it. You walked over to the display case, indicating that he should come take a look. “Normally we’d already be sold out of a lot of these, but it’s been quieter today than usual, so we still have plenty left. I guess it’s your lucky day.”

“Seems like it,” he smiled, his blue eyes latching onto your face.

Something about the way he said it made your insides feel as gooey as the batter Lexie used to make her double chocolate fudge cake.

“How many cupcakes do you need?” you asked, working overtime to keep from getting flustered.

“I think two dozen should be fine,” he replied, his eyes roaming over the display case shelves. “Hmm, they all look so good, I wouldn’t know where to start. Do you have any recommendations?”

“The lemon zest cupcakes are really popular. So are the red velvet and the coconut cloud. Oh, and the German chocolate.” You laughed sheepishly. “Honestly, they’re all really good.”

He laughed in response, a small dimple appearing in his cheek that only further endeared him to you. “Which one is your favorite?” he asked, his voice so earnest it made your chest ache.

You didn’t even have to think about it. “The funfetti,” you told him, indicating the vanilla cupcakes baked with rainbow chips and topped with swirls of vanilla frosting and an extra dash of sprinkles.

“I’ll take a dozen funfetti cupcakes then. And you can surprise me with the other dozen,” he grinned, making you smile.

“I hope you and everyone at the barbeque enjoys,” you said after you finished ringing him up, sliding the two boxes of cupcakes towards him.

“I’m sure we will. This place comes highly recommended,” he replied with a smile. “Are you Lexie, the owner?”

“No, no, I’m her cousin,” you explained, introducing yourself by name.

“I’m Robert Floyd,” he said, holding out his hand to you. “But everyone calls me Bob.”

“Very nice to meet you, Bob,” you beamed, sliding your hand into his and shaking firmly. His hand was large and warm and calloused and it felt like yours had been made to fit inside it.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he murmured softly, holding onto your hand for another second or two before slowly releasing it. He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m sure I’ll be back again soon.”

“We serve really good coffee,” you said suddenly, desperate to find a reason to get him to come back. “And we open really early. You know, if you want to get some on your way to work.”

Bob’s beautiful blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you.” He picked up his boxes of cupcakes and turned towards the door. Before he left, he shot you one last smile that melted your insides. “See you around.”

After that, Bob Floyd had found plenty of reasons to stop by the bakery. The following Monday, he’d stopped by in the morning to grab coffee for him and his friends on his way to work. That was when you’d learned that he was a naval aviator stationed at North Island.

“You were right about those funfetti cupcakes,” he told you, patting his stomach with a grin. “I think I ate about half the box before I thought to share them with anyone else.”

Your eyes crinkled and you felt your skin grow warm as you smiled in response. “Good, I’m so glad.”

You made sure to slip a cupcake in with all his coffee orders, a gesture which he didn’t fail to notice, judging from the extra large tip he left in the jar.

“See you soon,” he smiled, balancing all that coffee in his large hands as he backed out of the bakery.

From then on, he was there practically every day, stopping in for coffee or for some cupcakes after work. He often picked up things for other people—his friends or his neighbor who had recommended the bakery to him. But for himself, he always stuck with the funfetti cupcakes.

“I know I should branch out and try something new,” he told you one day through a mouthful of sprinkles. “But I can’t help it—these are just so good.”

It had taken nearly two weeks for Bob to work up the nerve to finally ask you if you might be interested in getting dinner with him sometime. You’d had to bite your tongue to keep from immediately screaming, “YES!” in his face,

The two of you spent your first date at a gorgeous little seafood restaurant right on the water, and then went for a long walk on the beach afterwards. It was truly the best date you’d ever been on. Bob was a perfect gentleman, attentively listening to everything you had to say and making you feel as though he actually cared about what was important to you. He’d even draped his jacket over your shoulders as you walked by the water, noticing the way you were shivering slightly in the dress you’d worn. You had been hoping he would kiss you at the end of the night, but like the gentleman that he was, he’d simply brushed your cheek with his lips, asking in a hushed voice if you’d like to see him again.

You wanted that very much.

On your second date, Bob took you mini golfing, something you’d told him that you hadn’t done since you were a little girl. You didn’t think you’d ever laughed so much as you did that night, no matter how terrible you turned out to be at miniature golf. Just like on your first date, Bob walked you to your door at the end of the night, his hand resting on the small of your back as you turned to look up at him, your eyes begging him to give you a proper kiss goodnight.

He had to duck his head slightly as he leaned in closer, a lock of his honey-colored hair draping across his forehead as his gaze latched onto yours, your breath mingling as the two of you inched closer and closer.

It was a soft kiss, sweet and chaste. His lips just barely brushed against yours, sending a shock of electric currents up and down your spine. When he pulled back, the both of you were flushed and stammering.

“C-can I call you tomorrow?” he asked, still so shy even after two dates.

“I hope you do,” you whispered with a smile, squeezing his hand before slipping through your front door.

Faithful to his word, Bob had called you the next day. The two of you were supposed to be going out again this weekend.

But that brought you back to your current dilemma—his birthday. You knew you were being stupid about this. Texting him for his birthday wasn’t tantamount to a marriage proposal. It wasn’t like you were trying to throw him a surprise party or invite yourself over for cake. It was a text message for crying out loud. And even though it had only come up once, he had told you when his birthday was. It wasn’t like you had gone to North Island and asked to see his personnel file.

The truth was, you were just terrified of screwing things up. You’d gone on plenty of dates with guys who had seemed really nice, who you had really thought were into you, only to be ghosted or flat-out rejected. Deep down inside, you knew that Bob was different from all those other guys, but still—the thought of sending him running made your stomach twist into knots.

“Babe, you know what I’m going to say,” Lexie murmured, your cousin’s voice pulling you out of all your convoluted thoughts. “If you never take a risk, then nothing’s ever going to change. I know you’re nervous, but just go for it. The worst that happens—seriously, the worst case scenario—is that he ghosts you. But you know what? If he does that, then he wasn’t worth your time anyway. And if he doesn’t? Well, maybe he’ll start to fall even harder for the gorgeous girl who remembered his birthday.” She grinned, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Ugh, why do you always have to be right?” you grinned ruefully, pulling back from your cousin’s embrace and fiddling nervously with the scrunchie on your wrist.

“It’s a gift,” she replied with a wink, turning to look over her shoulder when the bell over the front door chimed. “I’ve got it,” she told you, squeezing your arm before heading back out to the front.

That left you alone in the back kitchen, your phone burning a hole in your apron pocket and your heart hammering inside your chest.

“Okay, don’t be an idiot,” you murmured to yourself. As far as pep talks went, it was far from the most inspirational, but it did the job as you pulled your phone out. “It’s not too much too soon. It’s just a text,” you breathed out. “It’s just a text.”

Opening your messages, you found Bob’s name—he was right near the top after texting you just yesterday—and opened up your conversation thread, chewing on your bottom lip.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you tapped out a quick message that you hoped was short, sweet, and to the point and hit send.

Happy Birthday, Bob! I hope you have a wonderful day! 🥳🎉

You felt hot all over as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, your pulse stuttering in your veins as you wondered how long it would take him to see it. From what he had told you about his job, he often spent hours in the air each day, so chances were good he didn’t even have his phone on him right now.

You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and determined not to think about it. A task that was much easier said than done. But as you walked back out into the main part of the bakery, you found that a small crowd had formed, so you jumped into assisting your cousin behind the counter.

“Well?” Lexie asked under her breath as you helped her fill a couple boxes with a dozen cinnamon chip muffins.

“I sent it,” you murmured in reply, purposely avoiding her direct gaze. “But I haven’t heard anything back yet.”

As much as you had tried not to, you’d been compulsively checking your phone every five minutes.

Lex shrugged and waved it off. “It’s still early yet,” she said confidently, carrying the boxes over to the patiently waiting customer.

You threw yourself into various tasks around the bakery, anything that would keep your mind off your phone. You restocked the shelves in the display cases, organized the money in the cash register, wiped down the counters in the kitchen, scrubbed the baking pans, frosted cupcakes, replaced the coffee beans, and waited on any customers who walked in.

A couple of times, your phone buzzed in your pocket and your heart jumped into your throat, only to sink down to your stomach when you pulled it out and found that it was just an email notification or a text from your mom.

The longer you went without hearing from Bob, the harder you had to work to convince yourself that he wasn’t ignoring you.

No. He wasn’t ignoring you. Bob wasn’t like that. You were sure of it.

It was a little after noon, just when you’d taken a cup of coffee into the back for a short break, when you felt your phone buzz again, vibrating against your thigh through your apron. Swallowing nervously, you put your coffee down and reached into your pocket, a small gasp escaping you when you saw Bob’s name on the screen.

You could scarcely unlock your phone fast enough, opening up the text thread to read his reply.

Wow, you remembered! That means so much to me. Thank you! ☺️ Sorry it took me a little while to respond—we were doing some test flights, but I’m on my lunch break now and I’ll be on the ground for the rest of the day. How are you?

It took every ounce of self-restraint you had not to scream and jump up and down like a little girl. It felt like a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders. You hadn’t freaked him out! He hadn’t ghosted you! It was just like Lexie said—he was happy that you remembered.

Grinning like a fool, you leaned against the counter and typed out a response, not caring that your coffee was getting cold.

I’m doing great! Glad to hear you got some flying in on your special day ✈️ Doing anything to celebrate?

It was only after you had sent the message that you began to fret that it sounded like you were being nosy about his plans, or worse, trying to insert yourself into them.

But then Bob responded a minute later and put your worries to rest.

Nothing too fancy. My friends ordered lunch and got me a cake. They sang “Happy Birthday,” too, even though I begged them not to lol. I usually keep it pretty lowkey on my birthday.

You smiled as you wrote back, Was it a funfetti cake?

His next response came in no time at all, and it made your stomach flutter to imagine that he was focusing entirely on you and your conversation during his lunch break.

If only! It was really good, but I don’t think anything compares to those funfetti cupcakes 😋

At that moment, Lex walked into the back, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the huge smile plastered on your face. It felt like it was going to get permanently stuck there.

“Well, well, well,” she grinned, sidling up next to you. “Should I take that glowing smile to mean you finally heard back from your lieutenant?”

You ducked your head shyly, your cheeks growing warm. “He isn’t my lieutenant,” you insisted.

“Mhm, sure,” your cousin grinned, laughing loudly when you nudged her in the side. “So it worked out after all? He didn’t say you were a freaky stalker? I shouldn’t be expecting the police to burst down the door any minute?”

“Okay, okay,” you groaned, realizing how ridiculous you’d been behaving that morning. “You were right. It all worked out. He was very touched that I remembered his birthday,” you murmured, sheepishly scuffing your sneaker against the floor.

“I’ve gotta say it—told you so,” Lex smirked victoriously, wrapping her arms around you and planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, feigning annoyance even as you grinned and returned your cousin’s hug. “You know, Bob was actually just texting me that his friends at work got him a cake, but that it just doesn’t compare to your funfetti cupcakes,” you told her with a proud smile.

“What can I say? They are pretty damn delicious,” she winked, her chest puffing up with pride. A sudden thought struck her as she looked at you. “Hey, what time does Bob get off from work?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Usually around six or seven, I think,” you told her, your brow wrinkling in confusion. “Why?”

“Hmm, perfect,” Lexie mused, tapping her chin as she glanced over her shoulder.

“What do you mean?” you asked, arching an eyebrow. Your older cousin was always plotting something.

“I mean that the bakery closes at five-thirty,” she said, as if you weren’t already well aware of that fact. When she realized that you weren’t exactly catching her drift, she went on, “Which means you could invite Bob over for a little after hours birthday treat if you’d like,” she grinned.

“Lex!” you gasped, scandalized.

Your cousin threw her head back laughing. “I didn’t mean that you should jump his bones in the middle of the bakery! I’d actually prefer it if you didn’t do that,” she chuckled teasingly. “I just meant you could surprise him with something sweet, on the house. Something we make here,” she added with a pointed look that made your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

“Oh,” you mumbled, nodding your head slowly. “Right. Of course.” You cleared your throat slightly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not! Anyone who makes my cousin this happy is welcome to free cupcakes anytime,” Lex said firmly, cupping your face in her hands and beaming at you.

“You’re the best,” you told her, throwing your arms around her and squeezing her in a tight hug. “I’ll text Bob now and see if he thinks he’ll be up for it.”

“If you’re the one asking, I’m sure he will be,” she winked, nudging you playfully before turning to go back to the front counter.

Once she was out of sight, you turned your attention back to your phone and bit your lip, trying to think of the best way to phrase what you wanted to ask him.

Speaking of funfetti cupcakes, any chance you’d want to swing by the bakery on your way home from work? We close at 5:30 today, but we make special after hours exceptions for our best customers 😉🧁

Was that stupid? That probably sounded stupid. Would he think that you were suggesting a quickie on the bakery floor the way you thought your cousin had been suggesting? Oh God, could you unsend that message before he got it?

I would love to! Is 6:45 too late?

This man didn’t cease to amaze you.

No, that’s perfect!

See you then ☺️

You tried your hardest to smother the smile that was threatening to completely overtake your face, but you couldn’t do it. This man gave you butterflies like you’d never experienced before in all your life, and the thought of getting to see him in just a few hours made you feel like you were going to burst from excitement and anticipation.

You didn’t even have to tell Lexie what Bob had said. The second she saw your face, she just smiled knowingly and told you, “I’ll be out of here by six.”

Time had never seemed to move so slowly as it did that day while you waited for closing time to finally come around. Lex observed your growing impatience with amusement, giving you as many odd jobs as she could to hopefully make the minutes go faster.

When the clock finally chimed five-thirty, you practically sprinted towards the door, locking it and flipping the closed sign around to ward off anyone who might have tried to stop by for a last minute treat.

“Good thing business is so good or I might get mad at you for scaring off customers,” Lexie teased.

True to her word, your cousin helped you clean up and then was heading out the door by six o’clock.

“Have so much fun,” she told you, blowing you a quick succession of air kisses. “And tell Bob happy birthday from me,” she added with a wink before slipping out the door.

With your cousin gone, that left you about forty-five minutes to finish getting ready before Bob arrived. You quickly set a playlist of classic 60s tunes to play softly through the speakers—you and Bob had discovered you had a similar taste in music about halfway through your first date—and then hurried into the bathroom to fix up your hair and apply a little bit of make-up. You usually didn’t bother with much when you were working, but you wanted to look nice for Bob.

Once you were done getting ready, you went into the back to get his little birthday treat set up—Lexie had made a fresh batch of funfetti cupcakes towards the end of the day just for the occasion. You had just finished placing one of the cupcakes on a small plate with a lace doily and inserting a candle into it when you heard a faint knock on the front door.

Your heart rate immediately began climbing as you ran your hands over the T-shirt and jeans you’d worn today, hoping you looked halfway presentable. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, you stepped out into the main part of the bakery and felt your legs instantly turn to Jell-O at the sight of Bob standing at the door, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. You’d only told him once in passing how much you loved them, and he had remembered.

Wow, that really did mean a lot.

“Hi,” you greeted him, standing in the open doorway and beaming up at him.

“Hi,” he echoed, that little dimple making an appearance as he smiled down at you. After a beat, he seemed to suddenly remember that he was holding the flowers in his hand. “Oh, these are for you,” he said, holding them out shyly.

“They’re beautiful, Bob,” you breathed out softly, accepting them with a smile and pressing them to your nose. “My favorite. You remembered.”

“Just like you remembered my birthday,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, but which you knew you felt just as much as he did.

The two of you stood there like that for a few moments, just gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling dreamily. Then you came to your senses.

“Come in, come in,” you told him, stepping out of the doorway so that he could enter and then closing the door behind him. “Gosh, these really are such beautiful flowers. That was so sweet of you. You didn’t have to get me anything. It is your birthday, after all,” you said, guiding him to a table in the center of the room.

“I wanted to,” Bob replied, taking a seat. He was still in his flight suit and he looked so handsome. “I’m happy that they made you smile.”

“It’s hard not to smile when I’m around you,” you told him, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could think twice about them. Your cheeks grew warm when you realized how vulnerable they were, and you buried your face in the bouquet once more.

Bob’s cheeks had grown rosy as well, and you noticed that his leg was bouncing nervously underneath the table. “I feel the same way,” he murmured softly.

You could have thrown your arms around him and kissed him right then and there, but then you recalled the actual reason why you had invited him over.

“I have a surprise for you,” you said suddenly, smiling brightly as you laid the bouquet of flowers down on the counter. “Wait right here and close your eyes,” you told him, waiting until he had done so before hurrying into the back and lighting the candle you’d tucked into his cupcake.

When you stepped back into the main room on quiet feet, you found that Bob was still patiently sitting with his eyes closed. Your heart swelled with deep affection—and was it possible something even deeper? You had never met anyone like him and you were certain you never would again.

It was at that moment that you realized “Be My Baby” by The Ronettes was currently playing through the speakers, as apropos a sign as you could imagine.

You cleared your throat slightly as you approached the table, the candle sparkling in front of your face as you brought it closer to the birthday boy.

“I know you said you weren’t a big fan of being serenaded with ‘Happy Birthday,’ so I’ll spare you my vocals,” you teased, setting the plate down in front of him. “But Happy Birthday, Bob.”

Opening his eyes, Bob glanced from your face down to the cupcake and then back up to you again. He seemed at a loss for words, his eyes growing wide behind his glasses.

“This is—this—thank you,” Bob finally said, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

You smiled, sitting down beside him and gently resting your hand over his. “Blow out your candle before it melts into your cupcake,” you giggled.

He grinned at the sound of your laughter, leaning in closer to blow out the single candle, though he kept his eyes fixed on you the whole time.

“Lexie baked them fresh this afternoon. There’s a whole bunch more in the back that I’m going to be sending you home with,” you told him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his face lit up.

“What did I do to deserve all this? This is the best birthday present ever,” Bob chuckled, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing lightly.

“I’m glad you think so,” you murmured, glancing down at the table shyly. “The truth is, I was a little nervous to text you earlier.”

Bob looked surprised at your admission. “Why?” he asked, astonished.

You bit your lip and hesitated, but then decided to be honest. Like Lexie said, if you never took a risk, then you never got to see anything change. “I know this is going to sound so stupid, but I was worried you would think it was too much if I texted you for your birthday.”

“Too much?” he repeated, his brow crinkling in obvious confusion.

“You know, just because you had only mentioned your birthday once. I thought maybe I would seem too desperate or clingy or something if I reached out. I thought it would freak you out,” you confessed. “I know that sounds pretty dumb when I say it out loud.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bob assured you, shaking his head slowly. “I know what you mean. To be honest, I think I’ve had that problem myself. Y’know, coming off too eager and scaring girls away,” he admitted, blushing as he ducked his head.

“Oh, Bob,” you murmured in understanding, lacing your fingers through his. With all the other things you two had in common, it shouldn’t have surprised you that a crappy dating history was something else you shared. “You could never scare me off,” you promised him.

Lifting his head, he smiled at you and reached out slowly, his fingertips stirring a few wisps of your hair as he brushed your cheek lightly. “And you could never freak me out. It meant so much to me that you remembered my birthday. It made my whole day, in fact. Even more than the funfetti cupcakes,” he said, his eyes crinkling. He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, then added softly, “I remember everything about you.”

“You do?” you whispered, feeling a sudden surge of emotion well up in your throat.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Your favorite movies, the fact that you like tomatoes but hate ketchup, the way you throw your head back when you laugh really loudly. Your favorite flowers. I remember it all.”

“Bob,” you breathed out, the tears brimming in your eyes as your gaze dropped from his eyes down to his mouth.

You weren’t really sure who moved first, but soon enough, Bob was holding you in his arms, your lips pressed together in a kiss that was much less chaste than your first one, but just as sweet. Your arms snaked around his neck, one hand burying itself in his soft hair, the other resting on the nape of his neck. He let out a soft groan in response, one of his large hands resting on your hip and the other splaying across your back, holding you close.

It was a kiss that was so much like Bob himself—gentle, kind, tender, sweet, affectionate, attentive. He didn’t demand more than you were willing to give, he didn’t try to take anything from you. He just wanted to make you feel how much he cared about you, wanted to make you feel special and cherished. And he did. You hoped more than anything that you were doing the same for him.

Because the truth was that you were already falling for Bob Floyd, and falling hard.

When the two of you finally pulled back—a mutually hesitant parting borne solely of the need for oxygen—you smiled breathlessly, closing your eyes as Bob rested his forehead against yours.

“Okay, maybe that was the best birthday present ever,” he chuckled quietly, his lips brushing against your temple.

“I think so, too, and it’s not even my birthday,” you grinned, resting your head against his shoulder. “Are you going to have your cupcake?” you asked, glancing down at where it sat on the plate, still untouched.

“Mhm,” Bob nodded, wrapping an arm around you and brushing his fingers up and down your arm. “But there actually is something I’d like to ask you first,” he said, suddenly sounding nervous.

Lifting your head, you looked up at him, trying to figure out why he suddenly looked so flustered.

“Of course. What is it?” you questioned, resting a hand on his arm.

“Well, all of this has been amazing,” he began, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. You had noticed they had a tendency to slide down when he was particularly nervous. “But there actually is one more thing that I’d really like for my birthday this year.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously. “What is it?”

Bob swallowed deeply and then looked directly into your eyes. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your lips parted as a little gasp of delighted surprise escaped you. It may have been Bob’s birthday, but it felt like you were the one being showered with gifts today.

“Oh, Bob, yes! Yes!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him and pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Yes?” Bob repeated between kisses, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” you told him seriously, cupping his cheek in your hand. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed out, the term of endearment falling easily off his tongue in that adorable midwestern accent of his. He pulled you into his arms once more and kissed you soundly.

You giggled softly as you reached for the funfetti cupcake and removed the candle, holding it up for him to take a bite. “Happy Birthday, Bob.”

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Five - A tourney is held to celebrate Lord Stark's appointment to the small council, and your sworn sword is taking part.

Ch 6

The journey home from Winterfell was long, the journey there had been long, but now you were able to return to your chambers. To lay in your bed, to shed your fur lined cloaks and return to the light, airy fabrics you much preferred.

The Keep is a flurry of movement, arrangements for new small council members and meetings, noblemen switching out their sons and daughter within the Keep, new servants and merchants arriving.

You attend your lessons with Sansa now, she is slightly behind you, being younger, but she is a quick study. Myrcella enjoys having her in lessons as well, and the three of you quickly become close. The three of you spend time in the godswood, picnicking and gossiping, filling Sansa in on all the rumors that swirl around the Red Keep.

It is one such occasion that you first hear it. “I have heard tale that my Uncle Renley prefers the company of men.” Myrcella whispers as she passes a lemon cake to Sansa.

Sansa’s shocked expression makes you giggle. “Come now, Sansa, you must know there are men like that.”

“I have heard of such things but…” She trails off, taking a bite of her cake.

“It seems to be much more prevalent in Dorne, all manner of things are allowed there.” You take a sip of your tea, spotting Jon lingering on the edge of the godswood with Ghost, Theon lounging in the grass beside them.

“I pity whoever is to be married to him, how will she ever have children?” Myrcella laments, her golden tresses falling forward as she reaches for a blueberry scone.

“Why would that prevent her from having children?” Sansa asks, her eyes cast to the blanket you all sat upon.

“Because he will not…you know…” You lean forward, dropping your voice to a whisper. “Be able to get it up.”

The confusion is clear on her face, and you send a prayer to the Mother for forgiveness over the innocence you are about to ruin.

“A man’s…member must be erect in order for marital acts to be completed, he will not be able to spill his seed otherwise.” You continue feeling your face heat up. Your father had instructed a septa to give you a very frank talk about intercourse when you first bled, it was informative but jarring. Then you sought out some of the older maids to fill in the gaps of knowledge in a gentler way.

“So, if he is not attracted to his future wife, or women at all, it will not get erect?” Sansa asks, putting the pieces together in her mind.

“Which means no children.” Myrcella finishes Sansa’s thought for her.

Sansa wrinkles her nose, a gesture you are certain she picked up from you. “I cannot imagine.”

“Perhaps the marriage will be a strategic one?” You say, tearing some grass out and letting it blow away in the wind.

Lady raises her head and watches them go, then sets it back down in Sansa’s lap.

Sansa runs her fingers through Lady’s fur, mulling over your words. “I do not think I could marry for strategy; I want to marry for love.”

Myrcella rakes her teeth across her bottom lip. “I do not think I will have a choice.”

You rub your cousin’s back soothingly. “You do not know that.”

Sansa perks up. “Let us play a game, we shall describe our perfect husband and then see if it matches to any lords in the court.”

You smile, her childish innocence perfectly distracts Myrcella.

“I shall go first, then?” Myrcella says, thinking for a moment before beginning. “I would like someone my age or a little older, but not by much. Tall with dark hair and dark eyes, the exact opposite of my brothers. Intelligent, a good swordsman, gentle, and a good dancer. And if he had sisters or female cousins for me to befriend, I would like that as well. Oh, and am I terrible if I say I would wish him to be tan? I do so love the look of bronzed skin; it looks so warm.”

You nod at Sansa, who begins. “Someone my age as well, with light hair and emerald eyes, a golden prince who enjoys festivities and is noble like a great knight.”

You and Mycella share a look.

“Sansa it is supposed to be your perfect husband, not your potential betrothed.” You remind her, thanking the gods that Sansa and Joffrey’s betrothal had been delayed thanks to all the excitement when you left Winterfell. It seemed Lord Stark could not think of betrothing his daughter while Bran lay in a coma, so the matter had not been brought up in many weeks.

“Come now, Sansa, we will not tell Joffrey, speak from the heart.” Myrcella encourages, poking Sansa’s arm playfully.

“Joffrey is my perfect husband, but if I must give a different answer…” She trails off, and you can see her eyes flickering to Theon unconsciously. “Perhaps a little older, tall, and strong, but not too broad like The Hound, with light eyes and hair that looks as if it has been tousled by the sea, someone who can make me laugh, and is loyal to those he cares for.”

“That sounds like a very good man.” You say, drawing Sansa’s attention away from Theon.

“Yes, well, Joffrey is many of those things. Now y/n, it is your turn.”

“I agree with you both, no old men, someone strong, a good swordsman, but I must side with Mycrella on looks, I would like a dark-haired man as well, with dark eyes and a gentle soul. Perhaps someone loyal and well-read? And I would like to be friends with my husband, as well as be his wife.”

“It would be nice to be friends with your husband, so many women are simply wives or mothers or broodmares.” Myrcella says, tearing her scone into tiny pieces. “I pity whoever Joffrey marries.”

“Prince Joffrey is a good man; I am sure he will be a wonderful companion to his wife.” Sansa sniffs.

You purse your lips. Your father said you are not to interfere, to let Sansa realize Joffrey’s true nature on her own, but it is difficult.

“House Beesbury has many men like you described, Sansa, perhaps we should look for them during the next feast.” Myrcella says, brushing her hands off on her skirts.

“House Beesbury is a good house, or House Royce, both I believe will be sending knights for the Tourney of the Hand.” You add.

Now it is your turn to clutch Sansa’s hand as Jon faces off against Thoros of Myr. You knew the Red Priest would not hurt him, it was Jon’s first tourney, but you still feared for him. Anything could happen, he could be blinded by the sun, the Red Priest could be seized with divine madness, or the others that Jon had already defeated to reach Thoros could try to interfere and sabotage him.

Jon’s stance is steady, his sword—which glints in the sunlight, a gift from you, for his nameday—at the ready. Strong and sturdy made of the finest steel outside of Valyrian, the pommel set with an emerald, a direwolf carved into the crossguard.

“May the Lord of Light have mercy on you, my son.” Thoros says as he and Jon circle each other.

Jon says nothing, only nods and watches the older man.

Thoros’ sword is aflame with wildfire, the flames dance as he swings it gracefully, waiting for Jon to strike.

“Will the fire burn him?” Sansa asks, watching the two men through her fingers.

“Never seen Jon get burned before.” Theon shrugs.

Sansa hisses a reply at him, her head whipping forward when you gasp.

Jon strikes, fast as a whip, their swords meeting, the sound of iron on iron echoing in the ring. He has been training with Lord Aron Santagar, your uncle’s master-at-arms, or your Uncle Jaime whenever he has free time. Which is often as you do not have much to do most days, besides lessons and subtly attempting to convince Sansa to realize her feelings for Theon.

Thoros lunges, nearly catching Jon by surprise, but Jon side steps, kicking up dust as he moves.

Your heart is in your throat, and you stand, your hand still in Sansa’s when the duelers meet face to face once more. It is a show of strength, and you send a quick prayer to the Warrior, your eyes never leaving Jon’s form. Thoros is gaining, pushing at Jon, his feet sliding in the dirt, his arms trembling.

“Knock him flat, Jon!” Sansa’s voice surprises even you, as she jumps to her feet, Theon’s laughter ringing behind you both.

You are not even sure if Jon can hear her, but he seems emboldened, and he shoves the older man forward with a grunt. Thoros stumbles back, an ecstatic grin on his face.

“There it is, boy, show me your fire.” Thoros cheers, clearly enjoying the match far more than anyone watching.

Jon moves quicker than you can blink, throwing his weight behind his sword and knocking the man flat, just as he had Joffrey all those moons ago. He holds Thoros at sword point, and the crowd erupts.

Robert calls out Jon’s victory cheerfully, and you see Lord Stark smiling as Robert claps him on the back.

Sansa sinks into her chair with a sigh of relief, but you cannot do the same, you rush forward, pressing yourself against the edge of the dais. Jon is your sworn sword, and your heart will not return to its place in your chest until you have seen he is whole.

“Lady Y/N.” Jon calls, his helmet in one hand, his curls wild, a grin born of victory on his handsome face as he approaches the dais, a crown of roses hanging from his sword.

“Ser Jon.” You smile, graciously accepting the crown from the tip of his sword. It is half a hand longer than a normal sword, something you found an odd request of his, but it serves him well.

Sansa helps you arrange the crown on your head, looking at it wistfully. “It is beautiful, and it suits you.”

“Perhaps for the next tourney I will forbid Jon from fighting and Theon can crown you.” You suggest smiling devilishly at the Greyjoy.

Theon makes a sound of protest, Sansa’s own interrupted by Jon’s appearance on the dais. He has not even cleaned himself off, and he sets his helmet down on the railing, barely having enough time to speak before your uncle calls him over.

“Ser Snow, come, let us toast to your victory.” He says, raising a full cup high, Thoros is with them, his own cup full, his smile bright and genuine as he waves Jon over.

Jon looks at you, and you shoo him towards the throne. He has grown taller and stronger, though he is less broad than some other knights, there is raw strength in his every move. He is quick too, evident by the very fact there is barely a scratch on him. He fought six men and all he has to show for it will be a small scar on his cheek and sore muscles in the morning.

Theon’s voice draws your attention away from Jon. “Sansa—”

“Lady Sansa.” She cuts him off.

He leans over and plucks the crown from your head, giving you a quick wink. “Lady Sansa. If you wished to be crowned my queen of love and beauty, you need only ask.” Theon says smoothly placing the crown on her head then giving her an elaborate bow.

Sansa freezes, her eyes darting to where Joffrey sits, his attention completely consumed by the archery competition. “Theon…”

“Though I dare say you are far more beautiful without that frilly crown.” He says, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

“I happen to like that frilly crown.” You interject, trying to hold back your laughter.

Theon can be quite humorous, his bawdy jokes and shameless manner often sending color rushing to Sansa’s cheeks.

“You have to win me this crown, Theon, that is how it works.” Sansa says, ripping the crown from her head and shoving it at Theon.

“And where is your queen, she must come celebrate with us.” Your uncle’s voice booms, carrying over to you, as you take your crown back from Theon.

He helps you adjust it as Sansa did and gives you a secret smile. “Promise you will keep Jon from fighting next time?”

You smile back. “I promise.”

“Y/N, come over here, the people wish to see you congratulate your champion.”

You pick up your skirts and hurry over to your uncle, who is already deep in his cups. Your aunt is watching him with an air of disgust veiled by wifely concern. “My King, do not embarrass the poor girl.”

Robert waves her off. “It is only proper; it was the reward I would receive from you when I would crown you my queen of love and beauty.”

You glance at your father, who is still seated. He inclines his head towards you. It is your decision, whatever your uncle is asking of you.

Jon shifts his weight, his skin sweat soaked and dusted with dirt, a mug of ale in his hand.

“Embarrass me?” You search your mind for whatever your aunt could be referring to, there were not many times your uncle would compete in tourneys, especially as he aged, the only reward you can remember him receiving…

Thoros slings an arm over Jon’s shoulder. “A kiss, you must bestow your champion a kiss.”

Your eyes widen and you glance around. Everyone is watching, even the crowd seems intent to see what the King will encourage next. They are chanting, you did not realize they were chanting for Jon, too wrapped up in your own thoughts.

“I—I am unwed, would it not be improper?” You ask, looking to your aunt for help.

“Robert, please she is only a child—”

“On the cheek then, there is no shame then, your father is here, I am here, there shall be no besmirching of your virtue.” Your uncle says, clapping his hands together with a tone of finality.

Series Masterlist here!

Jon Snow TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz

[narcoticv3nus]

Living in the Afterglow 𝜗𝜚 John Price

Kinktober Day XXVII: Aftercare

summary: john takes care of you afterwards tags/trigger warnings: 18+, aftercare, fluff, sweet sex, p in v, bubble baths, massages, praise, did i say fluff? wc: 817

MASTERLIST

With your cheek squished into the pillow below you, your back arched like a cat, chest pressed into the mattress as you lifted your hips high into the air, wiggling your ass your good measure as John pounded into you from above with deep grunts escaping from his lips.

You moaned out, smiling to yourself as you did. You bit your lip, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you neared your release.

A low growl emitted from his throat, feeling the heat of your body, the tightness of your core enveloping him as your movements became erratic underneath him. John Price's muscles tensed, his grip on your hips becoming firmer, fingers digging in slightly as he watched your expressions.

"Come for me, love," he grunted, pushing himself deeper, relishing the sensations coursing through him. As you reached your climax, your walls contracted around him, Price closed his eyes, feeling the intensity build-up, and followed suit moments later, letting out a guttural moan.

Afterward, as your breathing slowed and your body relaxed beneath him, John pulled out carefully and collapsed beside you. He ran his thumb along the curve of your waist, feeling the slight tremble in your body as you came down from your high. With a satisfied sigh, he leaned over and gently kissed your shoulder.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice a husky rumble in the quiet room. He didn’t need to say more. Instead, John rose from the bed, his muscles protesting slightly from the exertion. He moved purposefully towards the en-suite bathroom, turning the taps on to draw a warm bath. While the tub filled, he grabbed a bottle of your favorite lavender-scented bath oil from the cabinet and poured a generous amount under the running water, watching the steam rise and carry the calming fragrance throughout the space.

“Care for a soak?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at you with a roguish grin. He wanted to ensure you were well cared for after their intense encounter. Once you agreed, John slipped into his robe and picked up his phone to order some food from your favorite local spot—something spicy and rich, knowing it would hit the spot after a day of action and stress.

With a nod, John walked back into the room, his bare feet padding on the plush carpet. He helped you to your feet, his strong hands steadying you as you stepped into the warm water. He watched you sink into the tub with a sigh of contentment. The water lapped at your chest, and he couldn't resist leaning down to kiss your forehead tenderly.

"Stay put," he instructed, his tone gentle yet firm. "I'll be right back." A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming cup of chamomile tea and a plate of warm scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam—your favorite. Setting the treats on the bathroom counter, he climbed into the tub behind you, pulling your back against his chest.

The warmth of the water and the sweet scent of lavender enveloped you both as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He could feel you relax further into his embrace, your head resting against his shoulder as you sipped your tea.

"Better?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice. After you finished your snack, he massaged your shoulders, working his thumbs in slow circles across the taut muscles. He could feel the tension melting away under his touch, replaced by a contented sigh.

As you grew sleepy, John picked up a washcloth and gently cleaned your body, paying particular attention to every curve and line. Afterward, he helped you out of the tub and wrapped you in a fluffy towel before carrying you back to bed. Carefully setting you down on the soft mattress, John couldn't help but admire the sight of your damp skin glistening in the room's dim light. He felt a surge of tenderness wash over him, a stark contrast to the battle-hardened exterior he usually wore.

As he climbed into bed beside you, he reached over to turn off the lamp, enveloping the room in darkness. He pulled the covers up to your chin and drew you close, feeling the rhythm of your breathing sync with his own. With a sigh, he brushed a strand of wet hair from your face, his calloused fingers lingering on your cheek.

"Rest now," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to the silence. It wasn't long before your breathing deepened, and he knew you were fast asleep. He smiled softly, relishing the feeling of your warmth against him. John tightened his arm around your middle, burying his nose in your hair and breathing deep, allowing your scent to consume his senses. He slowly allowed himself to succumb to his exhaustion, promising himself that no matter what, he’ll always be there to take care of you.

main masterlist, rules

[thelaisydazy]

I LOVE YOUR FIREFIGHTER SERIES!!ITS SO CREATIVE!!

Could I maybe perchance order a jealous ff!Simon x reader pretty please 🙏

Like it can be whatever you want, from gaz asking reader out to a customer flirting whilst Simon’s there, it’s up to you!

Tumbles, baby, absolutely you can. I'm so glad you like the Flashover series. 💚💚💚

It isn't like Simon to oversleep. He gets to the bakery later than usual, finding it already busy with customers. The table you two usually shared breakfast at was currently occupied by a pair of old ladies eating scones and drinking tea you'd no doubt poured for them from the back.

Up at the counter you were helping another customer with a cake order, you clearly hadn't spotted him yet. The customer, an older man, was leaning over the counter where you were writing his order on a piece of paper, his face just a little too close to your hair for Simon's liking.

"Say, you're a pretty little thing," the older man says. "When's your lunch break? There's a nice little restaurant in town."

"Oh, no thank you," you say. "What kind of icing do you want for your cake?"

"Oh come on," he says. "I have a lot of money. I could make sure you never had to work again."

Simon's blood boils as he hears the old man attempting to hit on you. With Riley's leash in hand, he stalks up behind the old man, towering over him.

"Is there a problem?" Simon rumbles, his eyes dark as he glares down at the customer.

The old man spins around, nearly tripping over Riley. "Ah! Well, no no," he says, stumbling over his words. "Nothing at all. Just a friendly conversation."

"I think you should order your cake somewhere else." Simon narrows him eyes. The old man doesn't wait for another warning, running off quickly. Simon turns to you, his gaze softening. "Are you alright?"

You look up at him, cheeks red. "Uh.. yeah.. yeah," you say. "Uhm.. thanks. He's been standing here forever. I never thought he'd leave."

Simon grunted. "Sorry I'm too late for breakfast," he says.

"Well... It's almost time for my lunch break," you say, offering him that sweet smile that makes him melt.

"I'd be honored."

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Wait with Me | Yandere Hermes

Yandere Pantheon College AU (6/7) | Master List

The jingling of your keys could be heard through the halls, reverberating off the walls just like the quick tapping of your shoes. Lingering students rushed out of the way, average or elite. Your title as the superintendent of the college was one to be feared. While you weren’t a part of the board that made more ultimate decisions, you kept your district in tight order. Recently, the claims against the elite staff were far too many and had plenty of evidence. Which warranted an investigation on your part. 

With your clipboard in hand, you only had to stand in front of the administrative office door for it to open, revealing a mousy secretary who let you inside before leaving. Paying no mind to them you glared at the doorway of the private office space, seeing a familiar face of the Vice Principal. 

“Hermes.”

“(Y/n).” 

He held the door open for you as you walked to the window behind the desk. Peering outside the window you could see the contrast between the elite and average athletes. Both work equally hard and yet only one has the resources to demonstrate that. It was an infuriating display. 

You turned to the Vice Principal who had a tray of tea and scones, holding it up in offering. Glaring at piping tea, you nodded your head turning your attention back to the window. The sound of the clinking glass being set down and the pouring of the tea didn’t distract you. Only turning your head when Hermes came to your side, politely handing the cup and saucer to you. 

“Have our athletes caught your attention?”

Swirling the herbal liquid in its cup you tentatively took a sip, looking down at your reflection with contempt. You figured humoring him wouldn’t hurt,” Yes, especially the ones that clearly aren’t given the same treatment.”

Hermes's polite smile dropped only for a second as he glanced at the average students in the courtyard. Turning back he had a smile on his face.

“That must be why you decided to pay us such an impromptu visit.”

You didn’t bother to look at him again,” Where’s the principal, he and I have lots to discuss.”

“He went to check on a complaint made by one of the staff. This errand might take quite a while if you wanted to come back another ti–”

“I’ll wait,” the interruption made his smile drop again,” If he’s going to be awhile that’s fine with me.”

Not missing the unpleased twitch in his smile you turned to settle into Zeus’ chair as you poked at the scones provided to you. Feeling the glare on the back of your head, you hid your smile while you bit into the pastry. 

All that was left was to wait. 

_________________________________________________________

The tapping of your steps was incredibly quick, practically running as you peered into every single one of the windows leading to the many classrooms. You’d foregone the jiggling keys on your belt, more than certain you’d scare off the man you’d been trying to hunt down.

After vaguely searching all the classrooms you continued your speedy walk into the office already passing the secretary who tiredly was getting up from their seat. Stomping towards the Principal’s private office there was the wrong but familiar face you’d have to see. 

“Hello (Y/n)!”

“Can it Hermes, get the tea.”

You made yourself comfortable sitting in Zeus’s vacant chair, breathing out your nose as you tried to calm your nerves. Stopping when you smelt the familiar fragrance of your favorite drink. 

“Decided to serve you something more to your taste.”

Hermes was still smiling as he stood near you, a different one than the insincere one he had when you first came into this office all those weeks ago. You took a sip of the drink as you turned to the desk ahead; finally spotting the plate full of your favorite dessert. 

Tilting your head to him you asked a question,” I don’t remember telling you these were my favorites.”

He chuckled with his eyes closed, “I decided to make a few calls. Do let me know if you like it!”

Thinking of those on the board and in your offices who paid enough attention and would be willing to share such trivial information with Hermes. Though as an elite you figured this kind of phishing was easy. Granted you weren’t a stranger to the power of the elites but it was still surprising when it was such an intimate detail about you. 

Looking into his now open eyes you divided your attention with the pile of papers on the desk. Taking a glance at the material, it was evident that Zeus had been working on them recently. A far contrast from the vacant office you were constantly greeted with on your surprise visits. 

“How did those renovations for your house go?”

The question made you hesitate because of the intimacy. Tracing the topic back to one of your many visits where you excused yourself to take a call with the project manager, you figured he must have listened in. Nonetheless, you didn’t feel a need to call him out but your private life was just that. Private. Thus you quipped with a simple: “Fine.”

Busying yourself with another sip of your drink you hoped he’d leave it at that. You’ll admit that since your sixth visit, he’s been a lot more talkative. But you didn’t plan to indulge even if he had that air of charisma that many had.

“I hope you’ll invite me when you have a housewarming party.”

You snorted,” I doubt it would be up to your standards. Unlike the board, I have a much more modest living space.”

“That’s alright,” the wink with a smile did not fill you with ease, “I happen to like tight spaces.”

You should’ve just said ‘Sure’ or ‘Maybe.’ Kicking yourself for engaging in the first place you settled for a hum as you took a bite of the snacks. Hoping that would be the end of it.

It was not. 

“Would you like a glass of water?”

“A wet towel, Superintendent?”

“Would you like a massage, (Y/n)?”

It was getting worse. If this is what Zeus went through you’d understand why he was avoiding his office. The Vice Principal was too much like an over-eager butler constantly feeding you snacks as though that was the only reason why you were here. To just get him to stop you let him do the massage. 

“So tense (Y/n), it worries me that you aren’t sleeping at night.”

Looking out the expanse of the window you sneered at his reflection,” Not that it’s any of your business but being an active Superintendent requires I be available at any time.” 

His gloved hands squeezed especially hard on one of the weaker points on your shoulders, causing you to hiss. You turned around to glare at him, he held his hands up in surrender waving them around. 

“I’m so incredibly sorry! I didn’t realize you were so sore there.”

“Maybe I should just go to a professional therapist.”

“Please Superintendent at least let me soothe this knot. I couldn’t bear having you drive home with such pain.”

Huffing you turned back to the window hearing a small ‘thank you’ as you got back into position. Looking at the courtyard the only students around were those traveling between classes. Some talk in groups, others speedily walk on their own, and others….seem to look at one bush with curiosity before scampering away. What was that?

Leaning your head you looked at the abnormally round bush that students were running away from, expecting to see the tail of a snake or even a cat. Instead, your attention is drawn to the wrinkled hand on the ground. A wrinkled hand that might belong to the principal. 

“Hold on–” you stand to open the window only for those gloved hands to shove you back into your seat. 

Hermes quickly pulled you away from the window walking in front to open it. Swinging out the glass panes he hones in on the spot you noticed, quickly turning to the armoire against the wall. From a door you hadn’t noticed before, Hermes pulls out an air rifle that he carries to the opened window. 

“Hey–” your protest was ignored as he expertly aimed the rifle at the bush firing a generous ten shots. From the further place from the window, you heard a shout and squeal as well as the giggling students.

Having chased off whoever that was Hermes turned to you, air rifle still in hand, he gave you that oh-so-polite smile. Tilting his head to the side, the sun still shining high from behind illuminated the smile that twisted into something sadistic. 

“Now how about we continue with that massage? We want you relaxed for that meeting that will never happen, after all!”

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

okay so I have a friend and she got the inheritance games and finished it yesterday so OBVIOUSLY I asked her what she thought…

please read more at your own risk this might anger you :)

*sigh*

here we go…

she said she felt detached from the characters… I personally have never felt more attached to a set of characters and I don’t understand how she couldn’t be attached but I rolled with it because yk it might not be everyone’s cup of tea

intense deep breaths in an out

she said book was okay (HUH? OKAY? YOU’RE CALLING A MASTERPIECE OKAY?! THATS LIKE GOING TO A MICHELIN STAR RESTAURANT AND BEING LIKE… HMMMM IT WAS OKAY) and she said it was not obsession worthy (I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW MUCH I DISAGREE WITH THIS STATEMENT, LIKE THIS BOOK IS PART OF MY PERSONALITY)

I’m not mad I’m not mad I’m not mad

and she then said didn’t like any of the Hawthorne brothers, she couldn’t find at least one of them to be her new book boyfriend. HOW? ARE WE READING THE SAME BOOK? ARE WE ACTUALLY READING THE SAME WORDS OR WHAT!?? LIKE COME ON THESE ARE THE FREAKING HAWTHORNE BROTHERS. YOYVE GOT A SEXY COWBOY WITH A SOFT SPOT FOR CUPCAKES, A BLONDE MAN SO MORALLY GREY HE’S PRACTICALLY A VICTORIAN PHOTOGRAPH, AN ADRENALINE JUNKIE WHO IS A SUCKER FOR A GOOD MYSTERY AND A FUNNY, TALL, SMART, ROBOT-MAKING, SCONE-LOVING LITTLE CINNAMON ROLL… AND ALL OF THEM HAVE EMOTIONAL TRAUMA. WHAT IS THERE NOT TO LOVE?! IS SHE OKAY!?

ahem… anyways…

she said Avery was OKAY. OKAY. HOW? WHAT? WHEN? LIKE JUST OKAY. BREAD IS JUST OKAY. A ROCK IS JUST OKAY. BUT AVERY KYLIE GRAMBS IS MUCH MORE THE JUST OKAY. SHE IS INCREDIBLY INTELLIGENT NOT JUST CONVENTIONALLY BUT EMOTIONALLY, SHE HAS MADE IT THROUGH TRAUMA AND DEALS WITH IS SO WELL, SHE CARES SO MUCH ABOUT EVERYONE ELSE, SHE’S A GENUINE GOOD PERSON, SHES SO FREAKING AMAZING I CANT PUT IT INTO WORDS, CALLING HER OKAY IS A FAT INSULT.

but I love my friend 😔😔 so I didn’t tell her that

she thinks Avery and Grayson will eventually get together… I’m praying she doesn’t become one of those toxic Grayson and Avery shippers (but she didn’t say she shipped them she just thinks they’ll end up together)… luckily she is wrong 🤭🤭 like most of her other points about this book

but the thing she kept complaining about was apparently there was no description… like atp I was kind of convinced we were reading different books because I can envisage all the tiny details of this book. I think she said it lacked physical description for the brothers but there’s only so many times you can describe hair and eye colour in my personal ops…

she said the Hawthorne brothers are ‘too damaged’… telling myslef to take a deep breath ITS NOT THEIR FAULT THEIR GRANDFATHER WAS A LITERAL PSYCHOPATH AND TWO OF THEM LIKED A REALLY DODGY REDHEAD LIKE GOSHHH

but she hated Em*ly so we love her for that, that was a good move, good decision, very good judgment that I do agree with and she says wants to live in hawthorne house which again, I agree…

BUT THEN I LITERALLY WANTED TO CRY WHEN…

she explained how Grayson (MY HUSABND, LOML, ABSOLUTE BB) is a wannabe Aaron Warner. Honey, respectfully no… just no. that is all I have to say (bc I could go on an essay rant but I don’t want to bore people)

IT IS NOT OKAY. I AM NOT OKAY.

I do love my friend to pieces and of course everyone is entitled to an opinion but I have to severely disagree with here

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Hear me out...

John Price as a mechanic

Oooh, now this is a fun wee prompt!

Mechanic!John Price Headcanons

CoD ML

Please forgive the haphazardness of this, I’m literally writing this on the spot. As such, it’s practically a somewhat chaotic train of thought, haha

- Fixes your car and charges you the actual cost of the repair because he knows how other garages charge a woman more due to the assumption she doesn’t know anything about cars/bikes and thus wouldn’t know any better.

- Tells you to only come to him from now on.

- As it turns out, he’s your new neighbour! You just happen to see him walk out the door right across the street one morning.

- So, as a proper (though belated) welcome and as an extra token of gratitude, you pop by his place with homemade scones. Afterwards, you often share food and stay over at each other’s places for tea and/or coffee or dinner.

- He’s surprised to see you on his doorstep, but invites you inside for a cup of char. And, gods, does he make a good cuppa.

- John’s glad to see you relax a little bit around him because he knows how a prominently male workplace can make a woman feel. Or, rather, how the presence of male strangers affects women. Henceforth, he keeps a polite distance from you and tries his best to make you feel comfortable.

- Should it be his day off and you’re having trouble, he’s quick to help out regardless. Like, he’ll suddenly pop up behind you with a “Having trouble, miss?”. At first he feels bad about scaring you, but the regret turns to amusement the more it happens. As much as he knows you tend to live in your own bubble, your squeals of surprise as he brings you back to reality, to him, never fail to make him chuckle.

- Always has a smear either on his face or arms regardless of whether he has a day off or not. Although, make that multiple smears.

- He’s literally covered in them when you pop by his garage with coffee and/or tea for your Wednesday and Friday lunch breaks together.

- But those on his chest are particularly interesting and unfortunately only visible during summer. It’s seriously the only time in the year you have the chance to see him shirtless. You can’t help but notice how some of the oil stains accentuate his toned chest and pronounced pecks, darkening the already black fur covering his chest.

- Ooooh, the urge to trace his happy trail is real and John goes near feral at the thought of you doing so.

- But his years in the army have taught him that patience is key… most of the time.

- As it is now.

- First he wants to establish a strong friendship. And if that’s all there will be between you two, so be it.

- Though he pretty much is already head over heels for you.

- Fell for you the moment you scrubbed some oil and grime from his face, completely oblivious to how your hand cupping his cheek made him feel. He’ll never forget the way you didn’t dare to look him in the eye, looking away with a rosy flush in your cheeks when you caught him gazing at you, enthralled.

- “Do you always have these?” Your light grumbling back then combined with your focused efforts to clean him up still makes his heart flutter. It’s a moment he often thinks of.

- A moment he one day hopes stems from love.

[nobodyinfart]

Scones worthy of moans

Thank you so much for the notes, y’all I’m so honoured! Some of the reblogs are the funniest that I can’t help but choke on my laughter a lil 😭😭😭

Maybe this is just the addiction to the series Midnight Diner talking but, I adore the idea of a mysterious eatery around the base of Task Force 141. Although there is no publicity of the spot, chef! you get a comfortable amount of regulars thanks to your homestyle food that is noted to take customers to a new realm of comfort. 

Perhaps, as of late, you notice a guy that seems to be a personified example of Intimidating regularly visiting. Maybe it’s the black balaclava he wears that hides his features, or the bulky figure of the man that spooks you at first. Although, you must admit that his chiselled features makes him out to be quite a looker, despite you not having seen his face other than his mouth. 

Other than his appearance, another thing that sets him apart is his order; “Just a tea, a little bit of milk.” He muttered the first time, then proceeded to only refer to it as his ‘usual’ as if it's some sort of national secret. No matter the time or day, you are intrigued if just a cuppa makes him satisfied. And, obviously, you can’t help the curiosity. 

“You want some snacks with that? I’ve baked some scones earlier that’s fantastic with some jam,” You commented after some deliberation (especially since this man looks like he could crack you in half like you did to those eggshells a while ago). He paused just as he pulled the cup to his hands, before giving a stoic nod as he took a sip. The way you brightened at his compliant response had you dashing to the kitchen to bring them out with a fresh dollop of cream and a big spoonful of homemade jam. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man blinked as he watched you scurry to the kitchen and come out with something that smelled like heaven on a plate. Watching you tend to other customers, he bit into the scone and had to hold back a groan at how good it tasted. Crumbly and buttery, just the way he enjoyed his scones. You must be some sort of mindreader, even the tea he had was spot-on the first time. 

Looks like his ‘usual’ has expanded to include the scones. And that, Simon will be visiting this hidden spot a lot more often now.

[twstgarden]

❀ ❝ 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗶𝘁 ❞

━ riddle rosehearts x gn! heartslabyul! reader x trey clover (separate) ━ you would have never thought that your precious childhood friend would have a crush on you. (f/n means first name)

requested by: anonymous <3 request type: oneshot requester's message: Hello! I see your request are open🌱🌱 May i request oneshots or scenarios romance with Trey Clover and Riddle Rosehearts, with crush [Reader] who was their childhood friend and based on white rabbit from alice in wonderland. The Reader are in Heartslabyul dorm as well! Feel free to ignore this request if its make you uncomfortable or breaking the request rules. I hope you have a good day💙💙 florist's note: hello, dear anon! i wasn't sure if you wanted them together or separately, but here it is! apologies for the wait~

this work does not contain spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

— 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 —

painting the roses was always a regular task, but painting one with your dearest childhood friend and crush made the task even better than usual.

riddle’s recent incident was a lot to handle. you were there when riddle lost control and overblotted right in front of your very eyes, and you had to fight hard alongside the other involved parties to make sure he comes back to his senses and stop the mess he was creating.

the attempt was successful, save for the fatigue you and the others felt right after battling a magician in their overblot state. since then, riddle has been getting the medical attention he needed to ensure his entire state is well and healthy, and things in the dormitory were starting to return to its usual joyful chaotic state.

it has been a few days since that incident, and you were all preparing for the unbirthday party once more. you stood alongside trey with a clipboard in hand as you checked out all the required items, “white tablecloth, check; pastries including the tarts, check; tea set, check; chairs, check. okay, what else?”

as you continued to mumble under your breath, trey laughed a little as he spoke, “you’ve been going back and forth with the preparations for hours ago. everything is all set now. no need to be nervous.”

“well, yeah, but… it’s my duty to make sure all is well and done,” you spoke with a sigh as you glanced at your vice leader, making him hum in response. “your sense of duty is always admirable, but take it easy, f/n. riddle wouldn’t have your head if one spot goes wrong… i hope…”

trey mumbled the last two words under his breath, but you were well-aware of the words he said, causing you to grow even more nervous as you spoke, “aaaahhh… i better recheck everything!”

before he could say anything else, you ran off and inspected the venue.

“…and there they go.”

…

after assessing the venue, you checked on your pocket watch to see the time, realizing the party starts soon. you quickly went back to where the venue was and held your trumpet, blowing it as you announced, “make way for our leader, the red ruler: prefect riddle rosehearts!”

right after announcing, the crowd started cheering, “three cheers for prefer riddle!”

riddle then came into view as his eyes scanned the entire area, nodding his head in satisfaction, “perfect. the roses are red and the tablecloths are white. truly a perfect unbirthday party. i assume the dormouse is inside the teapot as expected? …well, i guess it doesn’t really matter now.”

“you don’t have to change so suddenly, you know?” spoke trey, “and we can use the jam on the scones, if you’d like. we don’t have to stop altogether at once. we can take things slowly.” riddle hummed in response as he glanced at trey, “yes, you’re right.”

you sighed in relief, causing riddle to glance back at you as you quickly straightened your posture and kept quiet. riddle smiled at you before looking around, “…wait!” he then pointed at one rose that was white in the sea of red roses, “that white rose…”

immediately, cater panicked and started questioning ace and deuce if they forgot to paint the other roses. at that moment, it seemed like chaos was about to erupt and trey was quite ready to console riddle, but unexpectedly, riddle smiled.

“i’m joking~ i won’t get mad over every little thing now,” spoke riddle, causing you to smile a little in response, “and it will be quicker if we painted it all.” the other heartslabyul students were relieved and thrilled to know their heads won’t be chopped this time.

you and riddle stood side by side as he held his staff and used his magic to quickly colour an entire rose bush red in a blink of an eye, making your eyes twinkle in admiration. “woaah~ you were always so cool when it comes to magic!” you stated as you painted the roses with him, “hehe, i remember when you tried to make a tart appear out of the blue, but you couldn’t!”

your giggles were met with riddle’s embarrassed huff as he spoke, “i was not as advanced as i am now, n/n…”

“but you’re still cool!”

riddle blushed lightly as you kept complimenting him, ‘and you’re beautiful…’

you two continued painting the roses as he grabbed one red rose and took off its thorns, making you pause your painting as you looked at what he was doing to the flower.

before you could speak, he tucked the rose behind your ear with a small smile – you could sense how nervous he was at that point.

“there… you look nice…”

— 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 —

losing your precious pocket watch is actually a blessing in disguise.

“where is it? where is it?!”

you fumbled around your belongings in search for your pocket watch that you lost earlier. you had remembered placing it on the lounge as you were working on something over there, then you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and came back with no pocket watch beside your study notes.

“i can’t lose it, no. maybe i was imagining things…” you told to yourself as you rushed back to the lounge and started taking off the cushion and even lifting the flower vase settled atop the table. during your search, the vice leader came across the lounge and feigned curiosity, “what are you doing, n/n?”

hearing the familiar voice made you look up as you sighed, “i lost my pocket watch. can you help me find it?” you were frowning as you said those words, and he immediately agreed to your request. you spent a few minutes in the lounge until trey suggested some other place, “maybe you left it outside and you did not remember? let’s check the tea garden.”

you were a little hesitant.

“i had it in my possession when i was in the lounge, though… it would be impossible to see it in the garden…” you spoke, causing him to smile at you reassuringly. “trust me, n/n,”

and so, you did.

you were quick to reach the tea garden as you were naturally a fast walker and runner. upon arrival, you saw a single table that was set up so perfectly as if someone was about to have tea with a partner. the tablecloth was laid perfectly along with the flower vase, the plates, the utensils, and of course, the sweets for dessert.

and right there, beside the sweet platter, was your precious pocket watch.

you gasped and immediately rushed to the table, grabbing your pocket watch before looking at the table. from your side of the seat, there was a folded piece of paper that had a smiley face on, making you glance back at trey to see him smiling at you.

you instantly knew what he was doing. you laughed a little as you crossed your arms, “you sneaky little guy.”

he laughed in response as he spoke, “sorry, n/n. i initially wanted to properly ask you out, but i… kind of chickened out. i didn’t mean to make you anxious, though!”

light-hearted laughter was heard from you two as you replied, “don’t worry, if anything, i like the way you executed this. it gives me a sense of adventure and the result was sweet. well then, shall we?”

© twstgarden 2023 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.

[good-chimes]

In honor of Life series four, Life Series Bake Off AU

NEW SERIES LAUNCHES:

Nation charmed by fresh crop of 12 amateur bakers including intensely competitive student GRIAN, ambitious cake artists BDUBS and SCAR, scientific bread experts TANGO and IMPULSE, and ETHO who has no discernible social media presence and, rumor has it, doesn’t officially exist. Married couple JOEL and LIZZIE raise eyebrows—will they be able to compete against each other?—but this is settled when Lizzie immediately announces she would murder Joel in real life to win and has bought the kitchen knife set for it, and Joel lovingly declares he keeps an axe under his pillow in case this happens.

The judges as usual are renowned cake chef PEARL, bread expert MUMBO, and our two inimitable presenters: BIGB, beloved by the nation for his gentle reassurances of weeping contestants, and MARTYN whose main contribution is his trademark eyebrow waggles as we find out from the judges who’s in trouble this week.

TART WEEK (1)

Tart week gets off to a strong start, with contestant REN charming both the judges and Martyn with his exquisite tarte au citron and his total inability to let a double-entendre go to waste (‘I’m just a tart triumph all over’ he proclaims, to Martyn’s immediate delighted riposte ‘Mm, but what do you do on the weekends?’). Law student JIMMY is not so lucky when a misreading of the recipe leads to ten times the correct amount of butter and a catastrophic oven meltdown. Star baker goes to early favorite BDUBS for an exquisite three-tier tart showstopper.

Week one elimination is, of course, the hapless Jimmy, and the recaps are united on two fronts: it's always nice to see someone on the show who reminds you of your own midnight experiments, but holy shit Jimmy, did it not give you a clue when the melted butter started pouring out of the oven like you’d stabbed the spirit of margarine to death in there. Jimmy's butter meltdown becomes a meme and he sells T-shirts; Joel immediately posts a picture wearing one.

CAKE WEEK (2)

Week two brings cake week and an impressive performance from SCAR, who embarks on a showstopper Baked Alaska in the shape of a snow-covered mountain. Tranquil in the face of GRIAN’S constant disparaging comments about his whisking technique and browned meringue, Scar perseveres and is crowned star baker for the week, while Twitter immediately declares Grian the villain of the season. A contingent of viewers theorising ‘could this be flirting’ are swiftly shouted down on social media and retreat to a dedicated subthread on a cookery forum.

Last week’s star baker BDUBS seems distracted by his new-found friendships with the quiet ETHO, who spends hours on the surprisingly unambitious Victoria Sponge. A conspiracy theory emerges that Etho invented the Victoria Sponge, refuted by weak counterarguments like “cannot possibly be true” and “he would have to be several hundred years old.” Meanwhile the nation is won over by JOEL and LIZZIE’S chemistry as they trade quips and spatulas, unfortunately Joel is eliminated after a jam mishap, at which he declares “at least I went out after Jimmy.”

TEA-TIME WEEK (3)

Tea-time week brings florentines and shortbread, but it’s a sad week for love as REN is out after his overambitious scones fail to impress. “I’m heartbroken,” Martyn announces, and cannot be consoled even by Scott’s superb showstopper petite-fours. Ren was a good sport to the end, everyone agrees. Ren spotted at a Covent Garden coffee shop with Martyn three weeks later.

HALLOWEEN WEEK (4)

The mood is jovial for Halloween week, with judge MUMBO in fake vampire fangs while ETHO bakes cookies in the form of anatomically correct skulls. LIZZIE starts off with adorable witch-hat cupcakes in little witch hats, then spends the rest of the episode precisely and effortlessly crafting a blood red mirror glazed sachertorte which the presenters refuse to look at because it “makes them uncomfortable”, and is subsequently awarded star baker for the most genuine aura of threat ever achieved by a cake.

Meanwhile GRIAN and SCAR continue to genially snipe at each other throughout. TANGO asks BDUBS to turn his oven off at a crucial moment; unfortunately Bdubs forgets and then blames Tango for relying on him, leading to the charred mess of Tango’s showstopper and a social media uproar dubbed “OvenGate”. Bdubs alternately sorrowful and dramatically dismissive. This cruel betrayal knocks Tango out of the tent; a public petition is started for his reinstatement.

WEDDING WEEK (5)

Puppet theater designer CLEO has her star turn in wedding week with ranks of beautiful marzipan figurines on all her bakes. An intense rivalry develops between her and wedding-enthusiast BDUBS, who declares his magnificent fondant confection a dry run for his impending marriage to ETHO, a stranger he met ten days ago. When asked by presenters how much of this is a joke, Etho laughs and says “I guess?”, which leaves the nation none the wiser. Unfortunately IMPULSE’S canapes are considered uninspired and he is uninvited from both the wedding reception and the series.

BREAD WEEK (6)

The feared bread week comes around and all the artistic cake-makers wobble badly. SCAR and GRIAN just scrape through, but CLEO’S triumph last week turns to tragedy despite the trouble she has gone to to model a realistic centaur out of sourdough. Bdubs makes an impromptu speech to camera about how she was robbed but he intends to triumph in her honor.

MEDIEVAL WEEK (7)

The experimental medieval week takes the bakers on an outdoor camping trip where they will attempt to build their own stoves and use them to replicate historical bread techniques. BDUBS’S enthusiasm for this and his drive to impress ETHO turn out to be his downfall as, distracted, he builds a stove that bleeds heat and fails to brown his bread. Etho meanwhile excels at both the survival and breadmaking aspects, leading to a divide on Twitter on whether this level of competence is hot or just very concerning, potentially the cake equivalent of a serial killer. The Victoria Sponge theory is raised again. Etho alleviates some concerns by getting lost three times in an open field over the course of the episode, which loses him enough baking time that dark horse SCOTT pips him to the post of star baker.

WINTER WARMTH WEEK (8)

Week eight arrives and five bakers remain: LIZZIE and SCOTT are known to be good all-rounders, ETHO is the reigning technical expert, SCAR remains the favorite on the cakes side, and GRIAN is mainly known for his habit of constantly sneaking spoonfuls of Scar’s cake mix so he can mock the taste. Social media opinion is divided into “Grian is a good baker actually”, “Grian is only still in because of executive meddling”, and the small but determined contingent of “no guys we really think they’re flirting??” who have emerged from their cookery subthread unbowed and with compilations of video evidence.

The set gets cozy with winter warmth week. Brandy-based showstoppers are the order of the day, and LIZZIE wins the episode by crafting a biscuit unicorn with a mane you can set on fire. ETHO invents an intricate brandy plumbing system to shoot flaming alcohol above his plum pudding—this attempt is in fact a good deal too successful and instead sets MARTYN’S hair on fire. GRIAN comes to his aid but ends up adding more brandy. Judge PEARL extinguishes the flames with a bowl of cinnamon milk. The judges are clearly not feeling merciful when it comes to the scores and Etho’s run comes to a premature end.

DOUBLES WEEK (9)

Some old favorites return for doubles week, where each of the remaining four bakers is helped out by an eliminated contestant on the other end of the phone. GRIAN for once assesses the limits of his own talents and asks to pair up with ETHO, a plan that immediately pays off when the contestants are challenged with a tricky technical that sees them baking the perfect pumpernickel bread. SCAR, having asked to pair up with BDUBS, is quickly underwater as neither of them understand yeast.

Scar’s floundering proves too much for Grian, who belligerently passes along his pumpernickel tips from Etho, saving Scar’s technical enough for him to scrape through. When challenged by Martyn, Grian grudgingly admits, “I just want Scar to stay in, okay?” Some recaps clear him of his villain status; others are still convinced it’s a fluke.

Meanwhile SCOTT turns in an efficient technical with help from CLEO and also JIMMY, who is apparently sitting in Cleo’s living room just to heckle Scott. LIZZIE calls on husband JOEL, but a combination of overconfidence and flirting distracts them both, leading to a burnt crust and Lizzie’s elimination from the final four.

MERINGUE WEEK (Final Episode)

In the finale, SCOTT, SCAR, and GRIAN face off over a series of escalating meringue-based challenges. Whatever alliance sprung up between Grian and Scar in the last episode is clearly water under the bridge as the two of them obsessively steal each other’s ingredients and annoy each other into trivial mistakes. This escalates into a noisy quarrel over the main challenge of the week: an edible diorama of a cactus ring. Scar’s attempts to ‘aesthetically correct’ Grian’s mountain diorama leads to Grian melting his sugar-spun cacti with a crème brulée torch.

The two are no longer speaking by the showstopper, where Grian embarks on a desperate attempt to make up points with an ambitious trifle in a castle-shaped wall of macarons while Scar builds his own grand macaron diorama. The clock ticks down. Scott is creating an impeccable strawberry pavlova. The trifle is going badly. Grian is covered in sugar and regret. BigB pats him reassuringly on the shoulder.

At the last moment, Scar sacrifices half his perfect macarons to donate to Grian’s diorama. Grian, for once lost for words, grabs his apron and kisses him right in front of Martyn’s swiftly-derailed countdown. “Grian had a beautiful artistic vision,” Scar says sentimentally afterwards. “You have to respect the craft!” They snog behind the tasting table. Mumbo gamely attempts to award points. Pearl in a laughing fit behind the cameras. Martyn and BigB solemnly wrap up the shot with Martyn’s best cake-based innuendoes. Grian and Scar do not notice.

Scott wins the series. He got so many more points on the cactus ring technical.

[unsoundedcomic]

What would a Farold’s menu be like, out of pure curiosity and for no other reasons?

What a good question :3

Farold's is foremost a tea house. They specialize in Valynian and Durlynian black teas, with over two dozen to choose from. The cheapest are very affordable, like the house Rose, while Valynian Rough Crystal costs a labourer's daily salary for a single serving, and is kept under lock and key.

Aldish tea is served with copious milk - goat or swine - and usually with additional additives, like honey, butter, pepper, frost sap, spirits, or salt foam.

In addition to tea, there's ice wine, cordials, and fine liqueurs, and a dessert case and small bakery. You can purchase tarts and cake by the slice, biscotti for dipping, savoury pirozhki or sausage rolls, or sweet scones with jam, cream, or butter, bags of candy, frosted biscuits, or just a piece of nice toast and green spread. There are a lot of treats that are only seasonal, or that depend on how Mrs Farold was feeling in the kitchen the night before.

You can also buy the more popular purple weed brands, and a few other necessities like certain medicines and tonics. There have been times when the Soud ghers are embargoed, and other businesses refuse to sell to them. The Farolds remember this, and always expect it to happen again.

Mr Farold will let trusted customers bring in meals from one of the street vendors or takeaway spots on the block, but you do need to buy a glass of tea to go with it, or he will scowl at the back of your head.

[aishangotome]

Elbert Greetia: Chapter 14 Premium Story

Chapter 14

♡———♡

--A gentle breeze blows through the deserted flower field.

Kate: Mmm, this feels so good...!

Elbert: ...Yeah.

We set the basket near a spot dappled with sunlight and sit down right beside it.

Kate: I love days like this, with such nice weather. How about you, Lord Elbert?

Elbert: I prefer sunny days too; they make me feel calmer. ...Though I don't dislike the rain either.

Finding out Lord Elbert's likes and what he finds enjoyable... something that can make him happy. That's my secret goal for today.

We chat idly as we arrange the bread and scones we brought onto a cloth.

Kate: Do you prefer your scones with jam, Lord Elbert?

Elbert: Ah... yes, I suppose I do tend to put jam on them more often than clotted cream.

Elbert: I'm not very fond of milk, to begin with.

Kate: You like bitter things and dislike milk... You have quite the adult palate.

Elbert: ...And you?

Kate: I... I like both sweet and bitter things... And I put both cream and jam on my scones.

Elbert: ...Hehe.

Kate: What is it...?

Elbert: Your... unexpectedly gluttonous side is... cute.

Kate: ...!

Elbert: You have some cream... right here.

He wipes my mouth with his finger, and I quickly turn my flushed face away.

Kate: Th-thank you...

(Dislikes milk, likes bitter things.)

(Doesn't have much of an appetite... but probably doesn't mind watching me eat...)

The casual conversation continues until we finish the scones, and Lord Elbert tells me all sorts of things.

How horse racing is popular among the nobility, but Lord Elbert isn't very interested in gambling.

He prefers to go horseback riding himself.

With each new thing I learn, my heart can't help but leap with joy.

Kate: ...I'm so happy to hear about all the things you like, Lord Elbert.

(I'm supposed to be trying to understand him to help him, but...)

(I'm the only one getting happy... It's almost a bit troubling.)

As I mutter this while sipping my after-meal tea, Lord Elbert suddenly turns to face me.

Elbert: ...Have you decided to give me your heart?

Kate: Eh!?

I almost drop the teacup I'm holding, but I manage to gently set it down on the saucer.

Kate: N-not yet... not yet.

Elbert: I see... That's unfortunate.

Kate: W-Wow, look! This flower is so pretty!

I deliberately changed the subject, avoiding his piercing gaze.

(...I need to stay strong.)

(If he realizes that my heart has already been stolen...)

(I might be taken away, just like...)

(Just like the other collectibles, displayed in that room.)

Elbert: ...Indeed, it's a lovely flower.

Whether he noticed my attempt to deceive him or not, Elbert shifted his gaze to a small flower blooming nearby.

Elbert: I used to enjoy making flower crowns...when I was a child.

Kate: ...Crowns...?

My gaze is naturally drawn to his profile, as if he's reminiscing about something.

Elbert: Everyone always smiled happily when I gave them presents...

His fingers, like those of an artist, gently pluck the flowers and skillfully weave them into a crown.

Kate: Wow... You're really good at this.

Elbert: ...Here you go.

Elbert gently places the flower crown on my head.

Kate: Thank you...

Elbert: .......

His happy smile makes my chest tighten with a bittersweet ache.

(He likes making flower crowns... and making others smile.)

I gently touch the flower crown.

I feel like Elbert, who continues to collect beautiful things, is fundamentally the same as the young Elbert who made these flower crowns.

(He wanted the people around him to smile...)

(That's all it was, wasn't it?)

Along with affection, pain wells up in my chest.

It's his overly pure kindness that's causing him pain.

Kate: ...That's a wonderful talent, just like you, Lord Elbert.

Lacking the confidence to hide my pain, I lower my head and tremble.

Elbert: ...Kate.

Suddenly, he calls my name in a serious tone.

Kate: Yes...?

(...!)

When I raise my face, jewel-like eyes are right in front of me.

Long golden eyelashes and porcelain-like skin are somehow so close...

(Ah, his lips...)

Just as I think they're about to touch, I instinctively push Elbert's chest away.

Kate: L-Lord Elbert, what are you...?

Elbert: I want to kiss you.

Kate: ...What?

His low, husky voice whispers, close enough for me to feel his breath.

That alone makes my head spin, to the point where I forget how we were even conversing a moment ago.

Kate: But why...?

Elbert: Because you won't kiss me.

Kate: B-But that's... I...

Elbert: I want to touch you more.

Elbert: .......I want to know your voice, your breath, your body temperature, everything.

Kate: ... N-no, I can't.

Elbert: ... Really?

Kate: ...

His probing gaze made her words catch in her throat.

(Because...)

(This is... to "possess" me, isn't it...?)

Elbert: The more I look at you, the more unbearable the pain becomes...

Elbert: ... It's like poison is coursing through my body.

Elbert: If you would become mine--- surely this pain would disappear.

(Don't look at me with such serious eyes...)

---My heart wavered.

I couldn't bring herself to believe that this plea was a trick to possess me.

Lord Elbert wasn't a man of many words or expressions, but he was a man who didn't lie.

That's why I couldn't help but hope.

I hoped that Lord Elbert simply wanted to touch me because he genuinely liked me.

(If I... confessed my feelings for Lord Elbert)

(Perhaps Lord Elbert would forgive himself and wish for happiness with me)

It's like "true love's kiss," breaking the evil spell that torments him—

I might be able to save the kind Elbert from the sins he carries and the acts he does to atone for them.

I can't help but wish for such a fairy tale.

(To be the key to saving Elbert)

(If only I could become it—)

Elbert: ... Move your hand away.

Kate: ...!

Elbert: Kate.

His voice, mixed with a sigh, makes his shoulders tremble.

Kate: ... Please don't whisper in my ear like that...

Elbert: Why not? ... Because you won't be able to push me away with your hands anymore?

Kate: Because I... I won't be able to stay calm...

Elbert: Does that mean... you're captivated by me?

Elbert: ... If so, I have no reason to stop.

Kate: ...

My heart is beating so loudly, it feels like it's going to break.

It's screaming, wanting me to give in to this impulse.

Elbert: Kate...

Kate: Ah...

Elbert's arms wrap around me from behind, embracing me gently.

Through my palm, still pressed against his chest, I can feel his heartbeat quickening too.

(How easily he embraces me)

I'm reminded that my resistance is but a trifle.

Elbert could easily hold me like this at any moment.

He could forcefully take my lips.

(But... he waits for my answer because)

(He's worried that if he's rough with me, he won't be able to captivate my heart...?)

(Or... is it because he doesn't just want to take me, but because he...)

A faint hope swells in my chest, threatening to burst.

Elbert: ...Kate.

Kate: ... Ah...

I feel the touch of thin lips on my earlobe.

It's such a faint sensation, I can't tell if it's accidental or intentional, but it sends a sweet shiver through my skin, making me feel unbearable.

Kate: ... Lord Elbert...

Elbert: Why don't you push me away?

Kate: ...

(Because...)

(Because I love you, hopelessly...)

(I really want you to touch me)

(I want to tell you that I love you and kiss you)

(But, what if)

(What if Elbert can't forgive himself, even if he's loved by me?)

Elbert will take me, who confessed to being captivated by him.

As an offering to atone for his sins.

(To hurt and "take" someone who says they "love" him—)

(It would hurt Elbert... so deeply)

Kate: ... N-no.

Exhaling a heated breath, desperately pulling myself together, I pushed back against Elbert's chest.

Kate: Please, don't kiss me...

Elbert: .............

It was a choice that wouldn't save him, but wouldn't hurt him either.

I didn't know it would be this painful to say words that go against my heart.

Elbert: ... Alright.

Elbert muttered quietly and gently let me go.

(... Ah... In truth)

(In truth, I don't want you to let go)

A burning impatience to chase after him and a slight sense of relief mingle together in my chest.

Just then—

Kate: —!

Elbert's head rests on my shoulder.

Elbert: ... Will you allow me this much?

His golden hair brushes against my neck.

I can't see his expression well, but... his voice sounds sad and relieved at the same time.

Kate: ... Yes.

Elbert: Thank you...

He nuzzles his forehead against my shoulder like a child seeking comfort.

(... I want to hug him)

It's painful not being able to tell him how much I cherish him.

We stayed like that until sunset, leaning against each other, swaying in a fragile peace that could be shattered by the slightest touch.

-

That night, after dinner, Victor and William called us over.

William: About the auction Elbert was invited to, the one hosted by Bernard Trading Company...

William: It seems highly likely that Bernard, the head of the company, will be there.

Victor: If we win the bid for the main attraction, we might have a chance to make contact with him.

(The main attraction... He must mean the blue diamond.)

William: It would be ideal if we could get Bernard alone during the event and eliminate him.

William: But even if we can't, just create an excuse to contact him later, that's all we need.

Elbert: ... Yeah... Got it.

William: We're counting on you. Oh, right.

William: Apparently, to attend this social party, you need to bring a partner...

William: Elbert, have you decided who you'll take?

Without hesitation, Elbert's gaze settles on me.

Elbert: Kate... I'd like you to come with me.

I somehow manage to regain my composure and suppress the pounding in my chest.

Kate: ... Yes, I'd be happy to.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 15

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