#all delicate and pretty and big brown horse eyes

[chrissdollie]

𐔌　‧ॱ ୨♡୧ ˚　ride　₊˚ ♡

⊹˚₊ summary: with your daddy away, matthew sturniolo visits your family's cozy farm where he convinces you to join him for a horse ride. you nervously gallop through town together and find yourself falling for the boy your father may never approve of. ︵︵ notes: farmers!daughter!reader x cowboy!matt, sfw, fluff, daddy issues, small bit of angst at the end, kind of a rapunzel and flynn ryder kinda thing (as mentioned by matt hehe), ending is not proofread ︵︵　word count: 2k

　　"those fuckin scoundrels," your father spits, stern eyes glaring out your tiny kitchen window as herders pass by, their horses kicking up dirt and dust. you lift your head from the overflowing sink to watch for the few seconds the men ride by. your father shuts the fridge with a sigh. you reavert your gaze to the distressed man, your fluffy lashes fluttering as you blink with concern.

"are you alright daddy?” you chirp, lazily brushing the sponge in your hand against a dainty pink plate as you watch the man wave his hand dismissively.

“fine, darlin, fine. check on the eggs when yer done there, alright?” he grunts, making his way towards the front door. you hum contently, quickly drying your hands and disregarding the dirty dishes before skipping through the homely cottage, bathed beautifully in the warm sun. “bye bye!” you kiss your dad's cheek, patting his back lightly as he pulls his jacket off the hook. the door opens and closes, and suddenly you're all alone again.

you don't mind it, humming quietly to yourself as you pick up your basket and step out the back door, your pretty boots crunching on the green grass. the only thing keeping you sane is the farm. your father doesn't let you go out-- he says exploring just leads to problems, and you listen because you'd never want to trouble your dear old dad. you're detached from the real world, though you don't really know it, do you? you're a quiet young thing with no ambitions unlike the other girls in town with dreams of leaving home and making a change.

the hens cluck familiarly as you step into the spacious chicken coop, smiling at your fluffy birds. like a giddy child, you talk to your animals, especially considering they're the only real friends you've got. "daddy's out in town; he wanta get some lambs, sheila! wouldn' that be nice?" you coo, politely moving your chicken to collect her eggs.

when you finish, you open the screened door to let the chickens out. they scramble past the threshold, freely wandering the farm as they please. your face brightens as you catch sight of your horse, petal, staring directly at you as if patiently waiting for your attention. you wouldn't admit it (especially not in front of the other animals), but she was your favorite part of the farm. you've had her since you were little, slowly watching her delicate white mane grow-- you click your teeth when you notice the pink flowers you'd left woven in her mane fading. then your eyes widen as you spot a smidge of brown hair moving behind her.

"hello..?" you call out as you clutch your basket tighter and hurry over to petal's fenced-in area. you gasp when you reach a man bent down on his knees, inspecting your horse's hooves. he looks up at you, and your heart pounds a little louder. you've seen him before, you have the biggest slightest remembrance of square dancing with the boy at one of the town gatherings. "oh," you sigh, clutching your heart. "hi matt," you mutter shyly.

it's been a while since you've seen matthew sturniolo-- ever since your father decided that now as a "big girl", boys would be eyeing you as you danced, therefore there was no more for you. the brunette hair is longer now, and his face has lost some of its pleasant youthfulness.

matt chuckles awkwardly as he stands, dusting himself off. "heya sweetheart-- m sorry to scare ya like this," he says with a gentle smile, holding his hand out to your free one. ever the charmer, he leaves a delicate kiss on your knuckles, and your nerves settle a bit.

the brunette exhales heavily, taking a quick look around the farm. "ts been a while, huh? i was, uh, lookin at your steed's foot there. seems like she needs a bit of care," matt gestures towards petal.

"oh," you whisper to yourself, eyes averting to your pet's hoof. he takes in your cute appearance, subtly grinning at your little stud earrings and bouncy pink dress. "is it.. bad?" you mutter before letting out a tiny gasp.. how rude you've been! "oh! um, are you thirsty? or do you want something to eat maybe?" you take a step back, ready to head inside. but he shakes his head, waving his hand.

"thank you, but i'm fine. actually came here to ask ya-- um... y'wanna go fer a ride?" matt asks hopefully, eyes searching yours for any signs of rejection.

your father would never agree. you gulp, dropping your head to your feet. "oh, i'm not sure.. daddy would--"

"im not askin what he wants." he cuts you off sharply along with a stern look. "do you wanna go fer a ride?... with me?"

you exhale, looking over to petal. it almost looks like she gives you a nod of encouragement. "i-i'm not very good.." you stammer embarrassedly, picking up your head. he chuckles again, tapping his foot against the grass lightly. "ill teach ya,"

you nod, lips parted. matt's head tilts towards a chicken by his boot, his grin widening. "they gonna be alright out?"

"oh! uh, one second.." you head behind the coop into a tiny shed, pulling out a handful of oats. spreading your palm, you call the chickens over, the oats being bait to lure them back into their home. the birds cluck loudly, stumbling over themselves as they follow you into the stall. "here you go babies," you coo quietly, spreading the oats around the ground. you dust off your hands before stepping out the screened door to a smiling, almost sheepish matt.

you awkwardly brush off your dress, looking around. "so.. where's your horse?"

matt nudges his head to the side. "wrapped to that tree righ’ there," he looks toward his brown steed tied to a thick oak tree. he hums contently, mindlessly playing with petal's clean mane, turning back to you. "so, shall we?"

you sway back and forth, still nervous about leaving the animals all alone. "needa put the eggs away first.. oh nd i need a saddle-- are you sure you don' wanna come in real fast?"

the brunette shakes his head, "nah, that's alrigh'. i'll help you and.." he pauses, motioning to the dying flowers in your horse's mane. "petal, right?" he asks with a giggle. you grin toothily and nod in confirmation, him nodding back.

"well, i'll help you two get geared up," he offers, flashing that enchanting smile you loved seeing back whenever you accidentally stepped on his shoes while dancing. he'd always reassure you, saying "that's alright," just as he did now, and give you that sweet grin that made your worries disappear.

matt steps away from your horse, his chaps swinging back and forth as he makes his way towards you. "so.. how've you been lately?"

leaving your beloved home for the first time in forever wasn't as hard as you initially thought it'd be. having matt as company helped, he soothed your worries with ease when you debated just staying with the animals like always. he caught you up on how to ride your horse, how to hold the reins, the right times to squeeze your legs, and steering. you got the hang of it again with little trouble (you almost fell off petal when mounting..) and you found yourself having great fun in the unexpected event.

"let's race!!" you grin, slowing down with matt trailing close behind you. he readjusts his black cowboy hat as he raises an eyebrow with his horse, jeff, pulling up next to you. "i dunno 'bout that, m pretty sure i'd win," he chuckles, petting petal with unintelligible coos.

the valley the two of you had been riding in for the past hour was gorgeous, with hardly any trees surrounding the large meadow, allowing you to feel free. you giggle with a nod, “yeah probably,”

matt stares at the side of your face for a moment before humming and taking off straight ahead with a loud laugh. you gasp with a wide grin before giddying up, racing behind matt.

you two race all the way home, the sun setting above you as you hear the familiar noises of the farm. “so it’s a tie then?” matt smirks, hopping off jeff. he walks over to your side, grabbing your hips before you could protest and helping you off.

you stick your tongue out a little. “i coulda won if ya didn’t take off before me.. but yeahhh it’s a tie,”

the boy ruffles your hair playfully, forcing a small giggle out of you that’s cut off shortly when you notice your father’s pick up truck in front of the house. you exhale, mentally preparing yourself for the upcoming stream of harsh curses. you turn to matt, kissing his cheek quickly. his eyes slightly widen, clearly taken by surprise.

“daddy’s home but um..” you’re immensely shy again, eyes locked on the dirt ground slowly getting darker as the sun fades away. “thank you for today. i really loved it..”

if you thought matt’s expression towards you couldn’t get any softer, it just did. he always wished there was something he could do about your restrictive father, but alas, he’s still just a boy. he can’t be your knight in shining armor yet.

he nods, placing a finger under your chin to lift your gaze. your eyes are glossy, bottom lip only slightly trembling, though matt’s able to catch it. he offers a gentle smile, rubbing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “we should do this again sometime, ay? me, you, jeff, and petal,”

“i think the fuck not.”

you and matt both jump at the raspy voice. you turn towards the back door where your father stands with a shotgun in hand. matt places his hand on his hat, “sir—“

“matthew get your goddamn ass off my land ‘fore i shoot you dead,” your dad spits, lifting the gun to rest in both hands. matt inhales heavily before snatching your hand into his. you let out a soft gasp, whispering, “what are ya doin?”

he ignores you, challenging your enraged father with a cold gaze. “i apologize for keepin your darlin out so late, sir.” he starts, keeping a firm stare. he couldn’t be your knight in shining armor then, he thought he couldn’t even save you now. but his giddy heart tells him to fight for you.

your daddy cuts him off again, “i don’t give a—“, only this time, matt keeps talking.

“i never was able to take her for a ride before you hid her away like fuckin rapunzel. guess that makes you mother gothel then, huh?”

as matt speaks, your eyes were blurred with tears, threatening to spill over any second. you kept your composure though, knowing your father hates when you cry. matt standing up for you made you proud and sick with adoration. but it’s also making matters worse for you, because now your father’ll come down on you even harder.

“you can shoot flynn ryder. go ‘head. you know who my parents are. and you know karma’s a bitch ain’t it?” he challenges, raising both eyebrows, keeping his hand in yours reassuringly.

your father scoffs, gripping his shotgun tighter before turning to you. “get yer stupid ass inside now.” he grits his teeth, his nose practically flaring steam.

you hesitantly drop matt’s hand, pulling petal in behind her fence quickly before running into the house, keeping your head down as you rushed past your father.

when you’re gone, he sucks his teeth, threatening matt to stay away before he steps into the house, clutching onto the door. before shutting it, he lets out an unexpected chuckle. “and by the way, jeff is a dumb ass name,”

matt huffs as the door slams shut. his eyes quickly avert to your room’s window as the light turned on, your dad’s yelling muffled by the walls. it’s then that matt realizes, he didn’t really save you at all.

help this is kinda short oopsies.. not doing a part 2 unless someone comes in my inbox with an idea (plz be specific 😞)

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

x

[cruelcruelcowboy]

✎ — love language headcanons.

pairing: arthur morgan x gn!reader summary: just some fluffy and kinda long love language headcanons warnings: none a/n: this took a looot longer than expected, and i rewrote everything several times but i finally did it! sorry in advance for any mistakes my crappy writing hehe constructive feedback is welcome! ( ´ ▽ ` )b

gif is 100% by @itspapillonnoir bc i just realized it looks like im stealing ur gif im so sorry

——＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚— ☾ —˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊——

giving: acts of service/gift giving & physical touch

arthur is a natural giver, time and time again bending over backward when needed, yet never expecting a thing in return. he doesn't consider himself to be one with words, so he gives back in return, hoping his kind gestures will suffice where his words don't. it's no different when it comes to you, only instead of his usual platonic favours, he pours his heart into doing the most for you.

he knows the things you like, certain colors, foods, perfumes/colognes, all of it.  whatever you might have mentioned liking or craving in the past, he will frequently go out of his way just to bring back something you've spoken of or asked for.

usually, he’s fond of delivering his gifts straight to you, selfishly taking joy in the way you light up at whatever he's brought back. sometimes he wonders if you do it just so you don't hurt his feelings, but he wouldn't care regardless. you always make him feel seen, thanking him profusely, and never taking his kindness for granted.

on the off chance you’re away from camp, he’ll leave your gifts placed thoughtfully on your cot, usually accompanied on top of a handwritten note or paired with a fresh picking of your favourite flowers/herbs.

other times, he shows his love through gestures. he’ll make sure that your horse has been looked after for the day, that your laundry has been collected and brought back to your tent, or that there’s a bowl of hot stew waiting for you after a grueling job. he makes you feel like your efforts don't go unnoticed no matter how big or small, or what role you play in the gang.

some mornings, when a thick fog lays over the camp and the sun is only peaking over the horizon, arthur will beckon you over to the fire, waiting with a cup of coffee, “jus' how ya like it." even if you aren't a morning person, he certainly makes them worth it.

it definitely takes him a little while before he's confident enough to show any public displays of affection. only when the camp is quiet and there are few prying eyes will he lovingly run one of those bear-like hands down the back of your head, staring down at you fondly from beneath pretty brown eyelashes. he’ll place a delicate kiss on your forehead or cheek before letting the two of you get on for the day.

in private, however, he's all over you. he adores holding you, running his hands along your body, and tracing his fingers in mindless patterns on your skin. he'll kiss down your face and throat, pinning you down beneath him like a wild animal, secretly praying that you won't slip from his grasp and bolt off. thankfully you never do, to you, his arms are your home.

receiving: words of affirmation & quality time

when it comes to getting affection in return, he has no clue how to accept it, let alone process it. the shell of the big brash outlaw begins to crack and reveal a much softer inside. he'll blush and fuss and insist, “i ain’t a good man,” with a shy bow of his head and a mindless kick of his boot. all you can do is roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile.

no matter how reserved he is about it, you know how much he loves and appreciates the way you spoil him with your words of endearment and praise. you've got him blushing like a virgin just by the way you say his name so sickeningly sweet.

"thanks for looking out for me, arthur."

“you’re so handsome, arthur.”

“i really appreciate all that you do for me, arthur.”

“i love you, arthur.”

he couldn't tell if he was about to pass out or cry. no other person had ever shown him the type of genuine kindness and care that you did, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never gather why you kept coming back to him—but he would be forever grateful that you did.

frequently, you like to make excuses to get some one-on-one time with arthur, "dutch says we haaave to go take a nice long ride down along the river. it sounded pretty urgent, wouldn't wanna disappoint yaknow." he raises a brow, and the corner of his mouth begins to crack into a smile. "that so?" he's always quick to catch on, and plays right into your antics, "well then, i guess we better get goin' b'for he changes his mind."

at the end of the day, as long as you're with him, he's content and your presence is more than enough to take the weight of the world off his shoulders. wherever he is you are, and vice versa—attached at the hip. no matter if it's accompanying each other on errands or jobs across the states, stirring up trouble and fighting off the law, or enjoying the serenity of late nights around the campfire together, you're by his side till the end. and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[diefxrguns]

𝐅𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄

➨𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨- 𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣 & 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣 𝙭 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

➨𝙖/𝙣- 𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙. ➨𝘿𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙨. ➨ 𝙘/𝙬- 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩

➨𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨- 𝙀𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙮

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

" well aren't you a rare sight to see" your small body jumped hearing a strange voice, only for you to turn around and see a human, his skin slightly tanned- his hair long and brown. And he was tall, really tall.

You couldn't form any words, even though you could speak over 100 languages. You just stood there. Your body covered in small- fine silk. That only covered your breasts, pussy and bum. Your legs, arms and most of your chest exposed. A dangerous amount of cleavage spilling from the silk dress.

Your stomach exposed too. The white silk sparkling in the sun that was peaking through the forest trees. Vines wrapped around your arms, forming a spiral. And your skin sparkling, almost like a vampires. Due to you being a fairy- your skin was as soft as rose petal. And your hair was so long it dragged behind you as you walked.

And of course- your wings, white and transparent but could be seen, they were shiny and cute

" who... Who are you?" You asked shyly, staring at the human

"The names Eren, I've read about you in books" he said nonchalantly. He wasn't shocked at all. Afterall Eren is the founder. Why would he be shocked by seeing a fairy?

" what are you?, Are you fully grown" you asked stepping back, with white roses in your hands.

" I'm human, and I'm a male. Don't worry I won't hurt ya. You're to pretty for that" he said looking you dead in the eyes

Your cheeks turning a light shade of pink from the man's words. There are very few fae that are males. Most fairies are girls.

" you know, fairy. I still don't know your name" Eren said stepping so close he was only inches away from your short/ tiny frame.

" It's... It's Y/N"

" Pretty name, for a pretty creature. I'm just- I'm just at awe. Your presence feels so different. You're pure and innocent, I feel so connected to you fairy. "

" you're like- like an angel, so delicate and charming you are."

His words made your head spin, you almost felt sad but an overwhelming sense of joy, this human made you feel so amazing and fluttery.

" fairies are immortal, I won't be alive for much longer. I'll see you again fairy, and when I come back I'll take you away. I promise"

Of Eren went back to Wall Rose. Away from the giant forest.

You falling to your knees on the grass, tears spilling from your eyes and your hands gripping the dirt.

Your poor little heart felt empty...

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐓

It was late and Armin just came back from a mission. Only to see your tiny little frame on the ground passed out.

He was far far away from the rest of his squad, if anything he was kind of lost. Far away from any titan.

He immediately got off his horse to pick your frail body up off the dirt.

You were light and dainty, and due to you being a fairy, you were also shorter In size. The average fairy is 5'0 so you were just below that.

As Armin placed you on his horse, ready to take you back with him- it was getting dark where you two were. And he decided it would be best for both of you to camp out in the woods.

So as planned, he made a camp fire- the sky became darker and darker, only for it to be midnight.

He sat infront of the fire, your body opposite his- his jacket protecting you from the cold night.

You had been flying in the woods and bumped into a tree, causing you to fall and hit your head on the ground. making you unconscious.

Naturally you woke up from your state, and opened your eyes only to see a man- his big blue eyes on you, watching you like a hawk.

You were beyond frightened, you'd only see humans pass through the woods, but you'd never actually talk to them. You'd just be watching from the tall trees above them

You were thirsty, and to your luck. Armin had a bottle of water he got from a nearby river.

" here, you must be thirsty" he said as he stood up to give you the bottle

" I must say, you're out of this world, you're so gorgeous it's actually hard to look at you without getting all red" Armin said with sweaty palms and shaky hands.

" Oh why, um thank you" you sat up as your head hurt, and took the bottle from his bigger hands. Placing it onto your soft lips. Taking big sips

" I've been watching you the whole night, and I'm, I'm grateful I found you"

" I'll be off in the morning, sleep in my arms, to keep yourself warm" he taking your hand in his, to lift you up

And you did as he requested, you spent the rest of the night. Sleeping in the warm, strong arms of Armin Arlert. His hands stroking your head of hair as you slept soundly.

In his years of living he's never seen a creature as gorgeous as you. And he was going to come back for you, he needed you.

all rights reserved ©

[patrochillesvibes]

In your imagination, what does Achilles love most about Patroclus, both physically and in terms of personality? (feel free to talk about this for as long as you want 😎)

Honestly, Achilles’ gut reaction will be Patroclus’ magnificent cock. It’s big. It hits all the right places. First time in his life Achilles had to practice honing his skills (taking him in /all/ the holes, ahem), and Achilles just loves a rare challenge. Achilles’ mouth is watering just thinking about it. Give him another second and he’ll be dripping with eagerness for another go.

But I think Achilles loves most of all how steadfast and patient Patroclus is. Achilles is passionate. He feels deeply. Under his skin, emotions are broiling. He is full of energy and ready to burst if he doesn’t keep moving. But there is always Patroclus. Steady, faithful Patroclus. Patroclus who can calm him down, settle his pounding pulse. Patroclus who never leaves and always smiles no matter how many tantrums he might have. He is constant and true.

Other things Achilles loves about Patroclus in no particular order:

Patroclus has these warm, brown eyes that can instantly calm Achilles down (or rile him up depending on the mood). They make him feel loved. So eyes are for sure a favorite of Achilles.

Patroclus’ voice when he’s in ‘bossy’ mode is another major love (read turn on) of Achilles’. Maybe he’s training horses or leading some men. Or maybe he’s commanding Achilles to suck his cock or degrading him for coming without permission. Achilles gets all warm and fuzzy and willing when Patroclus starts talking with /that/ tone.

Achilles is also a big fan of his biceps, of course. It’s very thrilling when Patroclus picks him up and throws him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing. It’s an exciting moment, the prospect of primal fucking. And of course, Achilles also loves also being carried princess style because he is a pretty princess.

Oh! Oh! Achilles can’t forget the scent that is Patroclus and his hairy tits! When Achilles is especially upset or stressed, he will bury his face in Pat’s chest, in that space between the pecs where he can hear his strong heartbeat, and BREATH. His scent is a bit spicy with a note of cypress that reminds him of Pelion. It’s also a nice place for him to rest his head at night.

And how could Achilles’ forget Pat’s beard!? It makes him look SO HANDSOME and MANLY. Who doesn’t like beard burn? The first time Achilles saw him with a beard, oh! He was practically vibrating with need. Of course there are merits to Patroclus with 3 days of stubble. It makes him look just so rugged and wild. Like pin-him-down-and-take-him wild. But to achieve this look Patroclus would have to shave and shaving brings Achilles to instant tears. Like wailing tears of mourning.

Achilles loves love loves Patroclus’ fingers in his hair. He brushes his hair just right. It’s very rhythmic and sometimes lulls him to sleep. He loves the feel of his cool fingers sliding against his scalp when he plaits his hair. But his favorite is when those fingers slide along his nape before suddenly gripping hard. That sweet sting of his hair being pulled.

There’s also something about how Patroclus makes Achilles feel small, delicate, and precious. Achilles is a demi-god, the greatest warrior of his generation. Patroclus is very gentle and careful with him. Patroclus always takes such good care of him. It makes him feel so very safe and well-loved.

Also, around Patroclus, Achilles doesn’t have to be “on” all the time. He doesn’t have to be the persona of a great soldier (not that he tries very hard, but he does have to act “Princely”). He is feared by many. With Patroclus he can relax and let go. There is no judgement. There is no stress. He can just be.

And one last silly one:

Patroclus doesn’t get (or care about) fashion and most of the time Achilles thinks it’s cute. He picks out Patroclus’ clothes and usually coordinates their outfits.

[bubblyhoney]

win for me

warnings: lAnGuAgE, alcohol consumption (both reader and all other characters are of age to drink), marijuana use, Making Out™️, a miniscule Flowers from 1970 reference. PSA: WHEN UR INTOXICATED AND/OR AT A PARTY, TELL UR FRIENDS WHO YOU WILL BE WITH AND WHERE YOU WILL BE AT ALL TIMES. DRINK AND PARTY SAFELY!

tags: sapnap x fem!reader

summary: a collection of moments throughout the beginning of your relationship

words: 5000

A/N: even though this isn’t my most organized or perfect fic this was so incredibly fun to write. and it’s a college!au!! one of my favs. hope you guys like!! let's pretend the pandemic doesn't exist for this one too (please wear ur masks btw)

-

Sophomore Year:

Smells like shit in here is your first thought upon entering the laundromat.

It does, in all honesty. What would you expect a place where college students wash three months of dirty clothes and comforters with vomit to smell like? Urine and just a hint of marijuana, incidentally. The door closes noisily behind you and a guy in a black baseball hat turns his head at the noise. Half of his face is hidden underneath the shadow of his scruff and he says nothing, but you still offer an obligatory polite-stranger smile. The place is pretty deserted, what for it being nearly 4 in the morning. And you’re a rare kind of customer; only a few things to wash and you brought your own detergent.

There’s an empty washer next to an old woman in an acid-trip of a parka, and you sweep past the few other patrons with your mesh bag close. The man in the hat nods at you as you pass, looking up from his phone.

Okay. Dark load in one and delicates in the other, you remind yourself. The quarters get pushed through the slot (not without dropping three and having to scramble to pick them up before they disappear between the machines) and you fill the dispensers with a flowery laundry detergent your roommates hates. Oh, and the clothes go in. Done. You relax into a cracked plastic booth around the corner of the machine, pulling a book of crosswords from your bag.

Somebody yelps halfway through filling out a five letter word (“a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep”) and you jump. Baseball Cap rips open the dryer, fumbling around and supplying a pair of gray sweatpants. You can’t help but watch. He digs through both front pockets, pulling out a wad of dollar bills. He sighs, shoves the pants back into the dryer, and starts it with a hard push.

“Gut feeling?” You ask. He looks around for a second and settles his gaze upon you. Nice eyebrows, you think.

“Yeah,” he laughs, slightly nervous. “Yeah. I wore them yesterday and just remembered I put some tip money in my pocket.” Leaning back onto the shelf behind him, he shoves his phone into his pocket and folds his arms tight to his chest.

“I feel you,” you empathize, and set down your pencil. “I washed a parking ticket with my underwear last week.”

He stutters out a laugh, nodding.

“That must’ve sucked,” he adds.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I wasn’t going to pay it anyways, but would’ve been nice to keep it for memory’s sake.” Rubbing at your knee offhandedly, you just watch him. He’s cute. And easy to make conversation with.

“Hey, um,” he mutters and clears his throat. “Do you by chance know some guy named Karl? Tall, messy brown hair and a horrible laugh?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

“Actually—,” you start but huff out a laugh. “Yeah, he’s uh, he’s dating my roommate. Why’d you ask?”

Reaching a hand to rub at his neck, his face twists into something sheepish.

“I’ve seen you at some parties this semester. I didn’t mean to sound creepy like that— I just—yeah.” His cheeks flush pink and he looks down to the ground.

“No worries,” you say, barely even thinking. “I think I’ve seen you too. You’re in Delta Tau Delta, right?”

“Nah, nah,” he laughs. “Just got some friends in there.”

“Ah.” You nod.

The conversation falls into silence, but not uncomfortable silence. He pulls out his phone again, and you look back to the crossword in front of you. The old woman between you leaves with a humongous load of blankets and a small family leaves with a cart full of bags; now it’s just you two.

When the washer with your delicates ding you nearly jump two feet in the air. Exhaling, you set your work down and open the door.

“Shit,” you curse as two bras fall onto the tile. You reach down to get a hand on a black lace bra and hide it quickly under your elbow. A sneaker squeaks loud in the almost-empty room and you see Baseball Cap’s shoulders.

“Here.” He’s kneeling as he hands you your pink bra and you accept it, biting your lower lip.

“Thanks,” you mumbles, slightly embarrassed, and step back to shove those bras and a couple pairs of your underwear into your bag. He offers you a small smile and backs off to his own machines, humming an off-key version of Unchained Melody to himself. Your other load of laundry gets shoved right on top of your delicates.

It’s when you’re nearly out the door, bell jingling, that you think to look back.

“Hey,” you start, almost stuttering for no reason. “What’s your name?”

He turns, dark eyebrows raised.

“My—uh… My friends call me Sapnap. You can call me that too.” Rosy cheeks once again; you seem to be making him awfully nervous.

“Sapnap.” You try it in your mouth, pursing your lips. “Okay. I’ll see you around Sapnap.”

He nods, affirming your statement.

“See you around Y/N.”

It doesn’t hit you until you’re buckling your seatbelt and starting your car that you realize you didn’t tell him your name.

Perhaps he knew more about you than you thought.

Yeah, you laugh to yourself. Karl’s got a big mouth.

Junior Year:

It takes you a collective twelve minutes to go talk to him.

It’s quiet in the library, students that happen to come here to study or procrastinate few and far between the scattered tables. Your poison today is a 4 page history paper on Normandy that you’d been staring at the instructions for for days. You’d already written a bunch of, frankly, horseshit for the body, but the introduction and conclusion were throwing you for a loop.

The vibes in Ridgeback Hall were also certainly off, today more than any other day; the main help-desk was empty and everybody had to do the tedious task of locating niche textbooks themselves.

Lifting your head from the wood of the table, you squint and focus your vision on the guy in the white tee and denim jacket that had been the focus of your thoughts for minutes. He chews at the end of his pencil, mouth screwed up into a ball, and shoots daggers at the empty notebook in front of him. You’re surprised it hasn’t caught on fire yet just from his gaze.

“Sapnap!” You whisper-shout, stretching your arms across the table as if it would make him any closer. A person with purple hair jumps at your voice but turns back to their laptop. “Sapnap!” you try again, tapping two fingers on the table. His head jerks up, eyebrows furrowed and an angry expression on his face, but softens at the sight of you.

“Y/N,” he counters, equally as loud but with a smile on his face.

“What’re you doing?”

“Calculus.” He sticks his tongue out, making an awfully tortured face. You laugh and wave your fingers at him, gesturing for him to come closer. He just huffs out a sigh, stacks all his papers in one pile, and gets up. The trek over to your table is short but he takes it so slowly you wonder if he always walks like that. Like a varsity basketball player who just got off a horse.

“You’re so slow.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles and settles into a chair across from you. “It’s 2 pm, give me a break. I need a Redbull.”

“Those are bad for you, you know,” you say matter-of-factly and drop your chin onto your hand. He’s even cuter from this angle, you think briefly. He just rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, Miss I’d-like-some-coffee-with-my-sugar-and-cream,” he teases, pointing to your venti iced coffee. It’s about as pale as the color of a band-aid. You just sigh and close your eyes. “You tired?” He flips his pencil in his hand and leans back into the seat, sighing.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I haven’t slept yet today.”

“Wow, you’re dumb.” He looks scandalized. You just shrug.

“Perhaps. I don’t really know why I did it actually— just for funzies!” You raise an arm but let it drop back down. “I stayed up playing Sims.”

“Feel that. I play Minecraft with my buddies until like 2 am every night too. It’s nice,” he decides and folds his arms across his chest. Your eyes flit over to his strong arms, admiring the way his denim shirt looks around them. Thick.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” He says too loudly and it warrants a ‘shush’ from another student. He reddens, but looks back down to you. “I��why do you ask?” You shrug, eyebrows raised.

“Just wondering. You’re too cute to not have one.”

“Right,” he huffs, but his cheeks stay pink. You two fall into easy silence, his eyes trained on the notebook in front of him and yours closed peacefully. “Are you dating anyone?”

They snap open not-so-peacefully.

“Nope. You wanna submit a boyfriend application?” A smile cracks your lips and he grins back.

“Maybe,” he replies and stares at your mouth. “I have to say—,” He stretches into a yawn. “I think I’m qualified.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your eyebrow quirks. “And why are you so qualified?”

“Well, first of all, I work at Ace Hardware. That’s where cool people work.” He presses one finger into his palm. Then two. “And I have a bunch of free time because said job at Ace Hardware only likes scheduling me in the mornings. Plus, I’m hot.” He shrugs.

You nod faux-seriously, considering his list.

“Those are very good qualities, sir. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” You pause. “Okay, I’ll schedule an interview. How’s 7 pm at the Chili’s on Main? Chili’s is the designated interview place.” You wiggle your eyebrows. He just smiles at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That was smooth.”

“Yeah, I know.” You carefully study your nails. “I’m pretty impressive.”

“Clearly,” he mutters and chuckles. “But I do like their salsa. And margaritas. We got a deal?” He holds out a large hand. You take it, squeezing tightly.

“Hell yes.”

When you see the man called Sapnap a week later, you are very obviously in a different state of mind.

Same state, same college town, but very different blood alcohol contents.

“Sappy!” You shout, raising your arms above your head with a stupid grin on your face. He turns, that familiar look of surprise evident in his expression.

“Y/N,” he laughs and approaches your group of friends in the kitchen. It’s Greek Wedding night at Delta Tau Delta, and you assume Sapnap came to support Delta’s “groom” Alex. You’d gotten uncharacteristically drunk, trading air for sangria, and you were now in the incredible stage where everyone was both your friend and your favorite person.

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, you mash your face into his bicep and giggle.

“Missed you so much,” you try to manage out of your mouth, but it comes out slurred and stuttered. “So much.” You’d gone to Chili’s two days before and promised another ‘interview’ in the next few days, but it felt like two months away from your beloved. Beloved friend, that is. Only one date.

“Yeah?” He places a hesitant hand on your back and nudges you into a standing position. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Oh, shhhh,” you mumble and close your eyes. “Only— a lot.” Blinking them back open, you zero your gaze in on a bottle of Ciroc half-empty and looking very tempting on the kitchen island across from where you’re leaned up against the kitchen sink. He catches your gaze and steps in front of you, pleasant face filling your vision. You gasp.

“You are so cute.” Sliding your palms up onto his face, you hold his scruffy cheeks in your hands and smile all dopey at him.

“Is that your brain or the alcohol telling you that?”

“Uh,” you swallow. “Both. And my heart.”

He just shakes his head and his chest moves with a heavy laugh.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Are you having fun?” You ask, all concerned and furrowed eyebrows. You look like you’re genuinely interested and worried about if he’s having a good time or not, and it makes his expression melt.

“I’m having lots of fun,” he passes over his shoulder as he flips on the tap and fills a red solo cup with water. “In fact, I’m gonna have a nice, cold glass of water right now.” He shakes it like an owner offering their dog a treat.

You eye the cup in his hand, having half a thought that this might be some sort of backwards psychology move. The other half wins.

“That sounds so good right now— can I drink some?” Your eyebrows pull together and your bottom lip drops into a pout. It makes him blink for a second. He remembers the little game you’re playing and just hands it over, smug. You gulp it down quickly and crush the empty plastic into your palm with an exaggerated exhale. “Hit the spot,” you sigh, and pat your stomach fondly.

“You hungry?” Sapnap asks you as he steadies you with two hands on your shoulders. Something pops into your head at his words: a set of two McChickens and an Oreo milkshake.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, and mirror him by placing your hands on his shoulders. “Can we go to McDonald’s?”

He just shakes his head, grin wide on his lips, and shrugs. Perfect teeth, you think.

“I haven’t drank anything, so I’m good to drive.” He pulls his keys from his pocket. “I know you’re smashed right now so—do you feel safe with me?” The question falls from his mouth and you truly consider it, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“Yeah. I’ll take this just in case,” you say, and take a large dinner fork from the counter next to you. It has some red liquid on it that you brush off onto the fabric of your jeans.

“That’s actually gross.”

“Yeah.” You grip it tighter in your head. “But it’ll do the job if you try any shit. I’ll put this in your eyeball.” Brandishing it, a smile stretches onto your mouth. He just shakes his head and heads for the back door, jerking a hand in your direction to get you to follow him.

The cool night air explodes on your face when you step onto the porch and it makes you blink rapidly. Sapnap is right at your side, offering a forearm as you slowly make your way down the two back porch steps. A tall blonde smoking half of a blunt makes a grunt noise as you two pass and your knight-in-shining armor looks up.

“Gonna go get some food. Want anything?” Sapnap stops on the rocky path to the sidewalk, tilted up to hear the blonde’s response. The other guy shakes his head but nods to you in passing.

“I’ll tell her friends where she went,” says the blonde, and disappears through the sliding glass doors.

Your hand falls from his forearm to his hand and grasps it tightly, swinging back and forth as you stumble to his car. You flash him a grin that he just chuckles at.

“Watch your step,” he warns as you yank on the handle of the passenger door and nearly fall off of the curb.

“I’m fine,” you huff, and scramble to get yourself upright into the seat and buckled. He closes your door and jogs to the driver’s seat, climbing in and starting the engine quicker than your head comprehends.

The small space fills with the sound of Letters to Cleo as he’s maneuvering out of his parking spot and he slaps a hand at the stereo button almost immediately. His cheeks redden as he glances at you once.

“I love Letters to Cleo,” you admit, and switch it back on. Ah, Co-Pilot. A classic. “Be my co-pilot!” You sing, loud and sharp. He shakes his head but huffs out a reluctant laugh.

“My older sister loved them. Bit old for my taste, but—you know. Can’t deny that I love a little bit of 90’s angst.”

“Absolutely,” you nod vigorously and pick at your nail. “Oh!” The fork magically reappears at your side and you grab at it. “For my McChickens.”

“And for me,” he adds.

“Yup. You too.” But you drop it onto the seat and lean forward, fumbling with the volume dial until you feel the lead singer’s voice thumping into your heart. “I love this lady!” You shout and rock your head to the beat.

Shaking his head, his shoulders move in an easy laugh. The drive-thru line is kind of busy for 2 am, he notes, pulling in right behind a navy BMW sedan. But it moves quickly, especially when you’re moving in your seat, scream-singing the lyrics to I Want You To Want Me.

“Yeah,” he says, loud into the mic. “Two.”

“Alright.” The voice reports from the speaker, a background clicking joining their bored tone. “Two McChickens, a double cheeseburger—ketchup and pickle only— , a medium fry, and an Oreo McFlurry. Anything else, sir?”

Sapnap chews on his lip, and glances at you. You just give an encouraging thumbs up.

“That’ll be all,” he reports.

“Second window, and your total is $9.67.”

He barely has time to call a “thank you so much!” before the line ends with a click. Rude.

“Jesus Christ,” you moan the second you sink your teeth into your first sandwich.

“Agreed,” he mumbles and pushes as much cheeseburger he can fit into his mouth.

“This,” you start, swallowing. “is the sexiest thing I’ve encountered in all of my years. I thank all higher powers when I consume McChickens…” Trailing off for dramatic effect, you stare down the sandwich before mimicking a dinosaur war cry and practically shoving it down your throat. He just nods in agreement.

“It’s so nice out tonight,” Sapnap comments, swinging a look out his rolled-down window. He parked right in front of the Campus Quad, large bubbling fountain the show to your dinner. And some geese fighting each other for half a rotting hot dog.

“Mhm.” You crumple up your wrapper trash and toss it into the empty paper bag. “Could totally go for a swim.”

He turns and gives you a look. You look right back.

“Should we?” It’s barely a question.

“Um, hell yes,” is all it takes for you to say before you’re clambering out of the car and starting for the fountain. He follows closely after, jogging to catch up with your borderline track-star sprints.

“Wait up!” He calls as you reach the border of the fountain.

“Ugh,” you sigh, impatient. “Hurry up.”

“Mouthy,” he grumbles before kicking off his shoes and bending to fold his pants up over his knees. You just climb straight in and brave the cold.

Squealing, you hop from one foot to the other, shoulders tight as you get used to the freezing water. He laughs and climbs in right beside you.

“Shit,” he curses, and shivers. “This sucks.”

“You suck,” you quip right back and splash around. He stares, disgusted, at the water soaking up your jeans all the way up to your knees.

“You’re gross for wearing jeans in a fountain. That’s worse than wet socks.” He starts to move around as feeling comes back into his toes.

“What, would you prefer me taking my pants off?” A sassy look paints your face and he rolls his eyes.

“No, but you could’ve folded them up like a normal person.”

“I think you forget,” you start, and splash a palmful of water his way. “I’m quirky.”

He gasps, face twisting as the water hits his thighs.

“You’re dead.”

If campus police were patrolling the Quad right now, they’d see two college juniors wading around in a fountain, water up to their knees, having a competition to see who can inflict the most damage. He won, it seems, because your shirt is drenched all the way up to your ribs.

“Okay!” You shout, hands spread to brace yourself. The water in his palm falls. “I’m cold and I want my other McChicken.”

“Fine,” he sighs, and with some difficulty manages to get out of the fountain and back into his shoes. You just make your way back over to his car barefoot, braving the mulch and poorly-sanded concrete.

You both finish your food quickly, discussing menial things like how fast food restaurants always skimp on the pickles and how it’s truly a disservice to the world that so many people don’t know it’s Biggie singing the song Kat dances on the table to in the 1999 classic 10 Things I Hate About You.

When Sapnap pulls up to your house, he shifts the car into park and lets loose a heavy sigh. You whip around, hand on your buckle, and sport a very confused look on your face.

“I’m tired,” is all he says. Head falling onto the seat, he rolls over to give you a half-lidded look. You nod empathetically and climb very carefully out of his passenger seat. Your drunk muscles haven't caught up to your mainly sober brain, which is impairing your ability to look like a functioning human being.

“Thank you for tonight,” you chirp, smiling in at him with your arms folded on the open window sill. The half-drank Oreo McFlurry is lukewarm in your hand. He stares at your flushed lips.

“Anytime you want a drunk McChicken let me know.” He winks. “I have a gift card.”

“You spoil me,” you coo, and step up onto the sidewalk. “I’ll see you sometime soon, yeah?”

He nods, pursed lips fighting a grin.

Cute, you both think at the same time.

Sometime soon, somehow, means the very next day.

It’s breezy yet uncharacteristically hot out, and certainly way too bright for a hungover Y/N.

You’re sat on the porch swing, nursing a hot decaf coffee with lots of sugar and cream. Sunglasses sit comfortably on your nose, but you still have to squint. The pills you took have yet to kick in, so all you have to do is wait and try not to vomit into your mug. Suddenly, your phone lights up and buzzes to life. You press the green button and lift to your ear.

“What do you want?” Your voice is awfully froggy, you realize, and clear your throat.

“Good morning to you too.” Sapnap’s voice rings clear yet husky into your ear. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile. God, you’re whipped just for the sound of his voice.

“It is definitely not a good morning,” you grumble and switch him into speaker phone. You drop the phone into your lap and stretch out further on the swing.

“Good morning for me,” he chirps cheerfully. “Take anything for the headache?”

“Yes,” you report, sounding like a pouting child and rubbing two fingers into your temple. “Some idiot fed me ice cream last night so this morning I woke up having to both shit and throw up.”

“Aww,” he sympathizes, sounding way too entertained. “That sounds like a you problem.” You stuck out your tongue, but upon realizing he can’t see it, make a ‘hmph’ noise into the mic. “Anyways. I called to see if you wanted to go get breakfast with me. Waffle House, specifically.” You make a face but lift yourself up off the swing, wincing.

“I saw a rat eat an entire piece of french toast there once. But—sure. I’ll pay.” He starts to whine, but you scoff. “Let me love you, bitch. You pay for my McDonald’s and I pay for your pancakes. Easy trade.”

“Whatever. See you in five.” He hangs up right as you twist the front door open and drop your phone onto the couch.

“Who’re you talking to?” comes from the kitchen and you jump, pressing a hand to your chest. A shirtless Karl enters the living room with a bowl of fruit loops in his hand.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, and duck into the hall closet for your pair of dirty tennis shoes. “I was talking to Sapnap.”

“Oh,” he says around his mouthful of cereal with a grin. “You guys dating yet?”

You pass him a weird look, bending to tie your shoes.

“Gimme like two weeks. I’ll have him at my beck and call,” you laugh and collapse back into the couch.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He quirks an eyebrow and exits stage left into your roommate’s room.

The few minutes it takes for Sapnap to come to your house are short but filled with contemplation. Do you really want to date him? He’s certainly cute enough. Nice enough. And smart enough. He seems to like you too—

A honk interrupts your thoughts. Always having to be obnoxious, huh?

“You’re annoying,” you mumble as you buckle your seatbelt. He just shrugs, tiny smile tugging his lips, and shifts into drive. The short trip to Waffle House proves more quiet than lively. He seems awake, actually, so you attribute the silence to your tumultuous thoughts. The music is nice, though. Bikini Kill is perfect for 10 am.

After you two order (three chocolate chip pancakes for him and two regular waffles with a side of hashbrowns for you), he finally breaks the silence.

“Hey, are we dating?”

You pause with your lip on the rim of your orange juice. Your gaze falls from his lips to his fingers wrapped around the coffee mug. Two silver rings adorn both his middle fingers and they glint underneath the fluorescent lights.

“Do you wanna?” You squint back up at him. The tips of his ears flush pink.

“I-uh… Yeah. Yes,” he says simply. You try to hide a smile, but realize there’s no point.

“Okay.” You take a long drink of your orange juice. “I really like you. A lot. A surprising amount, actually; I haven’t really dated seriously since highschool.”

He nods, shuffling his feet on the tile. What else does he have to be nervous about? you wonder.

“I’ve… kindasortamaybelikedyousincesophmoreyear,” he mumbles and you swallow.

“Huh?” Leaning forward, you set your glass down.

“Um,” he starts but doesn’t finish.

“Did you say you’ve liked me since sophomore year?”

“...Maybe.” His coffee becomes the most interesting thing in the world, apparently. “Do you remember that one time during the Summer Carnival where Karl lost his phone?”

“Uh—yes! Yeah, actually. I do remember that. He found it in the porta-potty. What about it?” The waitress sets down both your plates in front of you and you offer her a smile in thanks before she trundles off to the drink station. You pick up your fork and wait for him to continue.

“I left two hours early because you invited Michael from your computer science class.” You pause around your mouthful of potato and he just stares back, trying not to grin. “Yeah. I thought you were hot and left early because you brought another guy.”

“Michael is gay,” you say slowly.

“Yup.” He nods and shoves a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “Isn’t that so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you tease but your cheeks blush pink.

“Anyways. Now I’m dating you, so. Win for me.”

“Ditto,” you murmur, and manage to fit half of your first waffle into your mouth. “This is the easiest it’s ever been to start dating someone.”

“It’s ‘cause we’re cool, I’m pretty sure,” comes from a mouthful of pancake.

“That’s facts.”

The rest of Pancake House is bustling, a few families with young kids and some other hungover college students scarfing down similar breakfast foods and confections. You two barely give any other customers the time of day, too wrapped up in conversation and each other. The waitress gets a heavy tip after an hour and a half of struggling to swallow dough soaked in syrup and chocolate.

Sapnap walks you to your door after breakfast, hand on your waist and pressed to your side. It feels good. Right.

“I’ll see you Wednesday right?” You ask, turning to him with hopeful eyes. How could he resist?

“Definitely. Wouldn’t miss Game Night for the world— I can’t wait to beat your ass at Uno.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You murmur but you’re already slinging an arm around his shoulder and bringing his mouth down to yours.

You taste like sugar, he thinks. His hands find the small of your back easily, pressing you further forward into him. You hum at that, tracking a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair to grip it between your fingers.

He smells both musky and sweet and cool at the same time: heaven. One of his hands slides up to grip at your neck, thumb rubbing at your jaw, and you make a pleased noise into his mouth. There it is.

“Y/N!” Shrieks from inside your house and you jump, pulling away from Sapnap with a smack.

“What?” You yell back, irritated, and he just laughs as he dips to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Stop tonguing your boyfriend and come help me with my photography project.”

“God damn it,” you sigh and drop your hands. His slide down to just rest on your hips, comfortable. “I have to go.” You're annoyed, that’s for sure, and he prays you aren’t too mean to your roommate.

“Alright.” He dips for a quick kiss one last time. Okay, two more times. Maybe three. But he pulls away, grinning. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

And then he’s stepping off your porch, walking to his car with his hands in his pockets. You watch his back fondly.

God, boyfriend. He’s your boyfriend. Boynap. Sapfriend. You can’t decide on a name, but all sounds perfect.

Perfectly him.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comments = welcome!

[talkfastromance4]

stuck with u--calum hood (part ii)

Read part one here

word count: 4.7k

warnings: nsfw, boyfriend!cal, oral sex (female receiving), slight exhibitionism, slight cum talk, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, 18+ please

Let me know if you’d like a part 3! I’ve got ideas but they revolve around baby Hood and I know I write that way too much but I can’t be tamed so if you don’t want that this will be the last part ok

Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

• • • •

She was finally able to visit her family for a few weeks with Calum and Duke accompanying her on the trip. Staying in her childhood bedroom had its drawbacks of not being intimate with each other. Not that Calum went without trying. He’d move in to give her a goodnight kiss, distracting her with his lips while his hand attempted to slip under her pajama bottoms.

“Hold your horses, handsy,” she’d giggle and pull his hand away. “Wait until we’re alone.”

“We are alone,” he’d pout against her neck.

“My parents are right across the hall. You know me, I can’t be quiet.” She’d play with his hair affectionately trying to appease him.

“I love that you can’t be quiet,” he’d smile back then sigh deeply, it tickled her skin. “Fine, but when we get back home…you’re mine.”

After rekindling their relationship, it was stronger than ever. They found a routine that included a workout regime while also spending some alone time apart. Sure, they still had their qualms, but the resolve was quicker than before.

She was so happy to help out with the Wildflower video when that happened and made sure to follow Andy’s instructions to a T as she helped him film it. She loved watching him do his own workout routine by the pool, his muscles rippling and glistening in the midday sun was a sight for sore eyes.

One day, he was holed up in his music room on a call with the guys. She assumed it was about tour and she could hear the frustration and sadness in his voice as she passed by to start dinner. While she cooked she suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over her because spending this time with him when he should be on tour made her happy.

His door opened half an hour later with him running his fingers through his hair in distress.

“Smells good, baby,” he says moving behind her. His hands rest on her waist, he kisses her cheek then holds her for a moment. He sighs heavily.

“What’s going on with the guys?” she asks carefully, not wanting to add her own salt to the wound.

“We couldn’t reschedule all the tour dates,” he says sadly. “We were thinking of making the set longer since it was held off, hopefully have the fifth album out before then so we can double new songs. We’ll see.”

“I think that’d be great, the fans would love a longer set.”

He hums in agreement watching her sprinkle some parmesan cheese over the fish, his lips pulsing on her shoulder like little fish kisses. When she has to put the pan in the oven, she pats his hands which he removes so she can do her task then sets the timer for the appropriate time. She takes Calum’s hand then leads him to the couch so they can sit together.

“What else is on your mind?” she asks curling her fingers in his hair, he leans into her touch resting his hand on her thigh.

“Ash said he’s been creating his own solo album since all of this started and he’s nearly finished with it.”

“Really? Wow, that’s great for him!”

“Yeah…it is,” he starts to chew on the nail of his thumb lost in thought. “It got me thinking.”

“Of?” she continues to play with his hair, his own hand rubbing circles on her thigh.

“What if I…I might want to put an actual book of my own writings together.”

“Really?! I think that’s an awesome idea!” she exclaims kissing his cheek excitedly.

“You do?”

“Yeah! Your writing is incredible, honey. Poetry is becoming such a big thing again, it helps others not feel so alone, it brings out their emotions. What would you write about?”

“You,” he smiles leaning forward to press a delicate kiss to her lips. “Me, the guys, growing up as a kid, other thoughts I have.”

“It already sounds like a bestseller.”

“I don’t know where to start,” he huffs. He shifts on the couch so he’s lying on her chest, his curls tickle her chin, they hug each other close.

“Wherever you want to,” she kisses the top of his head. “They’re your words, your thoughts, your feelings.”

They sit in a comfortable silence while dinner cooks, she continues to play with his hair and rub his back with her other hand. She’s excited to see his process with this, something that’s his own creation. When the oven timer goes off, he helps her set everything else up for dinner, both of them are stuck in their own thoughts and musings.

Bedtime rolls around and Calum’s been flipping through his brown leather notebook he always writes in and the one he gave her for her birthday. He’s waiting for something to jump out at him for a good place to start. While she sleeps, he thinks. And thinks. And thinks. Until an idea blooms in his mind.

The next morning, she wakes to a Calum-less side of the bed. She looks to the bathroom but he’s not in there, then she checks her phone if he texted her that he went to the store or something. She finds the coffee maker is still on with her mug and favorite ingredients set aside for her along with a small handwritten note from Calum.

“Be back soon, love. Getting something for the both of us to enjoy xx Cal”

She smiles at the note, fixes her coffee then ponders what he could possibly be getting for the both of them to enjoy. Her mind immediately goes to something sexual, but they haven’t really discussed anything out of the ordinary as of late. She also found it very sweet that he left a note instead of a text, his romanticism never fails.

Upon waiting for his return, she rinses the dishes and puts them in the dish washer, then decides to take a quick shower. She pulls on some fabric shorts and one of his shirts then prattles about the house until Duke’s barking signifies his arrival.

“Y/N?”

She comes by the door where Calum quickly lifts her into his arms and spins her around, his rumbling laughter makers her join in even though she doesn’t know the joke.

“Where have you been?”

“Come outside but close your eyes.”

He takes her hand then covers her eyes with the other, leading her to the front of the house. Their feet knock together as he guides her to where he wants her.

“Okay, are you ready?”

“Did you get me a pony?” she teases.

“No, silly girl,” he chuckles then removes his hand, but she keeps her eyes closed. “Open.”

When she does, she’s staring at a mini retro camper that’s yellow and white with an outline of a dog painted on the front. She gasps at it; they’ve always talked about getting one so they could do a camping trip together.

“What do you think? Want to check the inside out? It’s pretty spacious inside,” he grins mischievously pulling open the door.

“Oh yeah? Give me the grand tour, sir.”

She takes his hand helping her step inside. Her mouth opens in shock at the updated version inside. White cabinets and furnished wood flooring make the space appear bigger. There’s a small nook with a table for eating, the kitchenette is small with a door leading to the toilet and across that is a small shower. Two small steps lead up to a large bed decorated with an orange bedspread and see through curtains over the back window. Up front is a small couch with pillows and a blanket.

“And, check this out,” he ducks in front of her then pushes a button, a medium flat screen appears behind two cabinets. “We can plug in our firestick as long as we’re in range of a Wifi spot so we can watch Netflix, Hulu, Disney+.”

She looks at all the small details, she loves the wicker basket ottoman in the center of the room and there’s already a small dog bed for Duke next to the table. She loves it.

“I was thinking we could go camping along the coast, I already found two great campsites, bought a grill and other camping supplies. I figured we could get away for a bit, out of the house and into the outdoors. I can work on my writing and it will be relaxing and romantic. What do you think?”

She turns around to stare at him, his head just barely touches the ceiling, but his eyes are bright with excitement. He’s glowing in this little camper that is now theirs. She closes the space between them and wraps her arms around his shoulders giving him a big kiss.

“I think that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard,” she whispers on his lips. “I love it. When can we go? We’ll need to go grocery shopping and get bug spray and travel sized shampoo and other things. Those are so cute, they’re so compact. We’ll have to pack for Duke. I’ll make a list and—”

He silences her rambling with a kiss then backs her further into the camper towards the bed. She crawls into the middle of it, their lips still locked. When he presses his hips against hers, she can feel his arousal and she moans.

“We can do all of that after I take you right here, baby,” he mumbles shifting his lips to her jaw. He lies her back against the orange and white pillows. “We need to christen this bed, hm?”

“Mhm,” she sighs enjoying the feel of his plush lips on her skin. She turns her head to the right so he can continue his kissing path then she notices the door. “Shut the door.”

“Everyone’s in their houses…”

“Cal,” she laughs pushing on his shoulder playfully. “If you go close the door, I’ll be naked and waiting for you.”

That grabs his attention. He pulls back giving her a questioning look. He bounds off the bed, the camper rocking with his motions as he shuts the door and locks it. By the time he’s back at the steps, she is indeed naked, trailing her fingers down and over her breasts to in between her legs. She lifts a finger, motioning him forward in a ‘come here’ fashion.

“Fuck,” he sighs and removes his own clothes, quickly joining her on the bed.

She giggles at his excitement dragging his mouth to hers, his hand grips at her thigh then curves in between her folds. Moans replace her giggles when his finger slips inside, curling and twiddling against her spongy wall.

“So wet already? Can’t have you ruin this new bedspread before we get on the road, can I?”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she smirks, then winces when he removes his finger.

“Lick you up.”

He looks up at her with lust filled eyes, brushing his lips in barely there kisses down her stomach then wiggles his tongue over her clit. He moans at the taste and laves her up more with his tongue.

“Mm, Cal��” she whines wriggling her upper body. He flattens his tongue, doing deep swipes up and down her folds before suctioning onto her clit. She rests her heel on his shoulder just when he inserts a finger. “Yes!”

He smiles against her, pumping his finger slowly paired with the roll of his tongue. He adds another and ups the ante until she’s panting in staccato breaths. Moans tickle past her tongue the faster he goes chasing her orgasm.

“Come for me, baby…let me feel you,” he whispers and at his words her stomach clenches and her heart jolts in her chest. He moans with her to heighten the arousal then when she teeters off he kisses the inside of her thigh. “Good girl.”

He moves his face back, but she pulls on his hair, jerking his head up so he looks at her.

“Need you now. Please,” she whimpers.

Very slowly, he licks his lips then pulls his fingers out of her. Very slowly, he licks those, too before clambering on top of her. She reaches for his hardened dick, guiding him inside. He sinks into her easily, moaning into her mouth while he fucks her. She rocks her hips with his, meeting his rhythm with a desirable frenzy.

Their motions are rocking the camper slightly, the bed squeaks quietly as they pursue their high together.

“Feel so good,” he pants on her mouth.

“Faster, faster,” she begs.

A few more quick snaps and she cries out in a loud moan, Calum’s body jerks against hers then he pulls out quickly as he releases on her stomach and then they’re both breathing heavily. She swallows thickly, letting out a gust of air and pets his curls that are now a perfect blend of blond and black. Calum lifts his head and tugs on her bottom lip with his teeth.

“I think we rocked this camper.”

She bursts into laughter then sighs, “Yeah we did. You rocked my world, for sure. Giving me a workout in my legs, babe.”

“Sore?” he kisses her nose then slowly rolls onto his back and moves into the small bathroom. He grabs toilet paper wipes himself off, pulls his boxers and pants back on then kneels on the bed to help clean between her legs and on her stomach.

“Thank you.”

“’Course,” he grins peppering kisses on her belly.

“Lay with me for a bit,” she tugs him down next to her, wincing as she lets her legs relax. She fells the strain in her thighs already and shifts into a comfortable position against him. “We’re really going to do this, right? Go camping and leave the world behind for a bit?”

“We’re going to do this,” he strokes her cheek in assurance, loving how flushed they are from the sex they just had. “You and me and Duke. We’ll make smores, nap in here whenever we want—and yes it has air conditioning,” he laughs.

“It sounds so nice,” she sighs closing her eyes then yawns. She usually falls asleep right after, he wears her out.

“Let’s not sleep out here yet, we gotta check on Duke and start a list.”

“I need to shower first,” she sits up stretching her arms above her head. “Toilet paper doesn’t really get the job done.”

“Can I join you?” he smirks springing into a sitting position and kisses her shoulder.

**

Setting up their campsite didn’t take too long when they arrived. The awning on the camper was easy to assemble and setting up their chairs in the front didn’t take that long as well. The camper was already stocked with the food they bought with their clothes in the drawers set about the whole perimeter. She even added a photo of her, Calum and Duke on one wall so it was officially theirs.

They walked along the beach with Duke collecting shells and sea glass they found. They snacked when they wanted, took a nap in their bed with the windows open. It wasn’t until the third day that Calum was struck with inspiration for his poetry book. He sat out in the sun for a while before she woke up, then when he heard commotion he walked in to see her in nothing but his tank top.

The hem just barely covered her ass, she looked sleepy and beautiful while she sang along to the song “Something” by The Beatles and started the coffee pot. He snatched his phone out quickly, took a sneaky picture of her then opened up his notebook, his pen flying across the page.

From then on the words continued to pour out of him. He thought of words and phrases all day, all of them were mainly about Y/N but he didn’t find anything wrong about that. While they sat around their small campfire, they would play their ukuleles together as the sparks became stars.

He’d ask her for help sometimes if he got stuck on the structure of a poem or if he should keep one line or a different one so it would flow better. She was more than happy to help when asked. Sometimes, right before bed, they’d shut all of the lights off and leave the windows and curtains open so the sound of the ocean waves would blow in. They’d be illuminated by the glow of the stars and moon; hands would wander in soft caresses while his lips kissed the shell of her ear.

After about a week and a half when they went into town to use the laundromat, he was on the phone with Michael then with Ashton. She’s reading the poems he’s finished so far, Calum is tracing his fingers over her back while he’s on the phone, but she’s not paying attention. She’s immersed in his words.

“Y/N….babe…hey love,” his voice pulls her from the words on the page.

“Huh, what? Is the wash done?”

“No,” he grins then crouches in front of her. “How would you feel about meeting up with Mike and Crystal at their little getaway in the hills then heading to the desert with Ash for his album release?”

“Sounds like fun,” she smiles. “When do we leave?”

The windows are down as they cruise along the highway towards Michael and Crystal’s campsite. They’re only staying for five days and Y/N is staring at Calum as he drives. His hair flicks in the wind, he has some scruff forming on his jaw and chin that she loves. It’s a soft scratch on her own cheek or in between her thighs that sends her heart haywire.

“Whaddaya starin’ at over there, little lady?” he smirks then goes right back into singing along with Voodoo by ASL.

“Just you,” she grins then notices a love bite is still red on his neck. She touches it with her finger. “I feel selfish for loving all this time with you.”

“Why do you feel selfish?”

“Because you’d be on tour right now. I feel bad for feeling happy.”

“I get it,” he nods then flashes her a smile, eyes sparkling. “Would it make you feel better if I said I’m happy I’m not on tour right now, too? It’s not ideal for a break but I think it’s a break we all need.”

“Yeah…you all seem more…relaxed. Do the guys know about your poetry project?”

“No, I’m gonna wait until I’m finished with it. I also don’t want to take away from Ash’s moment.”

Michael and Crystal’s camper was much larger than theirs, one side was completely made of glass with sliding doors that overlooked the hills and dunes. The four of them went on a hike with Duke in tow and took plenty of pictures with each other.

All too soon it was time to travel on to the desert where Ashton had a whole set up. He rented out some cabins that looked more like tents on a wooden deck. Calum and Y/N opted out so they could use their camper. While his album played in the calm desert night, Y/N and Calum were snuggled up together discussing the songs quietly with each other.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” she tells him when the album’s played through.

“Already?” Calum asks kissing her cheek.

“Yeah, long day of driving. I’ll get our sleep things ready,” she grins at him.

“I’ll be in soon,” he wraps his arms around her for a hug. “If you wanna sleep naked tonight, I wouldn’t object to that.”

She giggles and smacks his chest playfully.

“And risk our friends sneaking a peek? I don’t think so, babe,” she snickers then bids everyone else goodnight.

Calum watches her leave, his eyes lowering to her sweatpants covered butt that still looks so adorable.

“Stop staring at me, Hood!” she shouts tossing him a flirty smile over her shoulder.

“Can’t help it, my girl’s hot!” he shouts back, and she shakes her head.

He stays with their group of friends for another twenty minutes until he heads inside, Duke trotting along with him. He circles his bed three times then lays down sighing heavily. Calum locks the door, Y/N’s leaning over their bed adjusting the pillows and curtains. All she has on is one of Calum’s t-shirts black cotton panties with pink lace along the edges.

She heard him come in but didn’t turn around, her focus is on the task at hand at assembling their bed. Calum’s hot hands are on her waist, his fingertips gracing the front of her thighs, his mouth by her ear makes her gasp in surprise.

“You’re not naked, but I love this view, too,” he whispers, his teeth grazing her ear lobe.

Shivers spike her neck as Calum presses himself against her, his hard on apparent against her ass. She bites her lip to suppress the moan when his tongue licks at her neck, his thumbs kneading her ass. His lips kiss her skin delicately before he sucks on it, the air from his nose tickles her skin.

“That tickles,” she sighs leaning against him to feel some form of stimulation on her covered core.

“Should I put my lips somewhere else?” he asks, his fingers already pulling down her panties. The fabric falls to her feet, she kicks it away and Calum palms her ass a little roughly. He gives her a light smack, she yelps in response.

“Where’d you…have in mind?” she swallows thickly attempting to turn around. His hands press on her waist to keep her leaning face forward against the bed.

“Stay right there.”

He kisses her lips quickly then drops to his knees; he pushes apart her legs.

“Can you bend over for me, baby? Let me see how wet you are…” he nips at her ass as she complies, his thumbs spreading her open. He hums at the sigh. “You’re throbbing for me, hm?”

“Caaaal,” she whines pushing her ass backwards.

He chuckles and bites her other cheek. He kisses down her thigh, pausing over her dripping core and kisses the other thigh. She groans in frustration and Calum chuckles darkly rubbing his stubble on her flesh.

“Please, please, please,” she whispers shifting her feet.

He loves to tease her, but he loves to please her more, so he closes his mouth around her pussy, his tongue pulsing against her clit. She lets out a small shriek from his wet tongue finally making contact where she’s been needing him. He laps at her furiously as if he’s in a race with himself to make her cum in record time.

His speed does the job because she’s grasping at the bedspread, breathing heavily, her body warming up as her orgasm takes over. She moans his name, her ears ringing as he keeps going, his tongue and lips slurping and suctioning away.

“You sound so hot,” he pants but continues working her over into another orgasm.

All too quickly, he removes his mouth while her orgasm ebbs away. She hears him shuck off his pants then feels his tip nudge between her folds. She lets out a loud moan from more teasing, her fingers clutching at the bedspread. He teases her entrance more and she can’t take it any longer.

“Fuck, Calum…please, no more teasing.”

“You want me that badly, baby?” he leans over her, pressing his weight against her ass with his tip inching in further.

“Yes,” she groans.

“Will you two be quiet?! For fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t listen, then!” Calum shouts back to Ashton and she looks up to see the window by their bed is still open. The curtains lifting lightly from the breeze.

“Cal!” she squeals and pushes the button for the light. They’re flooded in darkness, but she still desperately needs him.

“Kind of hard when Y/N’s so loud!”

“Plug your ears!” Calum calls and presses himself into her more then teases himself back out.

“Cal?” she lifts her head from the bed craning her neck to look at him.

“Yeah baby?”

“Screaming at Ashton is kind of killing the mood. I can be quiet.”

“I like you loud,” he sighs inserting himself once more, this time further than before. She gasps at the stretch.

“We can wait. I—ohh.”

Calum buries himself inside her, filling her completely and silencing whatever she was going to say. He thrusts gently then pulls out until he finds a good pace, the shirt of his that she’s wearing rides up her back. She closes her eyes from the glorious sensation of his pulls and pushes, biting her lip to try and stay quiet. When he hits a certain spot one spills out so she shoves her knuckles in her mouth.

“No, no, give me your hands,” he pants.

He pulls her hand from her mouth, twisting her arms behind her back and holds them in place on her back. He leans over, the angle causing him to push deeper inside her, he thrusts in tiny pulses.

“Want you to be as loud as you can for me, yeah? You like when I take you from behind?” he pulls back slowly and pauses waiting for an answer.

“Feels so good,” she whines into the bedspread. Having her wrists bound by his hand adds to the excitement and her pleasure, the restraint is enticing.

He grins, stands up straight then plunges inside her with force. It makes her cry out in pleasure and he picks up a quick pace, her body pushes against the bed. He squeezes her wrists then smacks her ass every once in a while. She clenches around him sporadically, small orgasms building to the big one that he knows she’s never silent for. Her breathing picks up and so does his.

“There, there, there, yes, yes, yes!” she cries out and he picks up the pace, tightening his hold on her wrists.

She squeezes his cock, a long-pleasured screech breaking through the surface of the bedspread. It’s animalistic and so sexy that he doesn’t even have time to pull out because he’s coming as well. His stomach tightens and untightens, her rapid clenching dragging his orgasm further.

He breathes evenly through his nose once he relaxes, her own body going lax beneath him and he loosens his hold on her wrists. They fall slack beside her as she tries to catch her own breath.

“Don’t move,” murmurs and pulls out of her slowly. She lets out a soft cry from the loss of him inside her, his arousal leaking out a little. He reaches for a washcloth hanging on the towel bar and wets it in the small bathroom sink. “I got you, baby, hold on.”

She gives a non-committal groan as he cleans her up, his teeth marks and a small red shape from his hand stare back at him. He kisses the marks softly, making sure to be careful at her sensitivity. He grabs a towel and dries her off then helps her back into her panties.

“C’mon, into bed,” he says lifting her gently onto the mattress. She falls into a heap, rolling over sluggishly and stares at him through blissful eyes. She reaches for him. “I’m going to brush my teeth quick, then I’m yours, love.”

He’s true to his word and brushes his teeth quickly. When he climbs into bed she latches herself onto him quickly, dragging his mouth to hers in a lazy kiss.

“I’d say I’m mad that all of our friends just heard us have sex, but I’m too fucked out to really mean it,” she murmurs. He laughs against her lips.

“It’s payback for all the times I’ve heard them. They really don’t care, baby,” he slips his hand under her shirt to tickle her back.

“You know what?”

“Hm?”

“Next time can we actually tie my hands together?”

He perks up at that suggestion. “Really?”

“Yeah, I liked it,” she giggles.

“I liked it, too,” he smiles brushing his lips over her hair. “You want to know something?”

“Hm?”

“I just thought of a dozen poems. Your body’s like poetry.”

The rest of the night is spent in lazy kisses until they eventually fall asleep, words and prose circulating in his dreams.

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[ladyofasoiaf]

Sansa & Beauty - Quotes

RADIANT:

Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall.

A Game of Thrones - Jon I

*-*

COMELY: 

"Saffron is very beautiful, I'll have you know. Tall and slim, with big brown eyes and hair like honey."Alayne raised her head. "More beautiful than me?"

Ser Harrold studied her face. "You are comely enough, I grant you. When Lady Anya first told me of this match, I was afraid that you might look like your father."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

EXQUISITE:

"You do look quite exquisite, child," Lady Olenna Tyrell told Sansa when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-gold gown that must have weighed more than she did. "The wind has been at your hair, though."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

FAIR:

I must ask after Sansa. How else will I find her? She cleared her throat. "Goodwife," she said to the woman on the turnip cart, "perhaps you saw my sister on the road? A young maid, three-and-ten and fair of face, with blue eyes and auburn hair. She may be riding with a drunken knight."

A Feast for Crows - Brienne II

*-*

BEAUTY:

The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty.

A Feast for Crows - Brienne VII

*-*

Lord Littlefinger kissed her cheek. "With my wits and Cat's beauty, the world will be yours, sweetling. Now off to bed."

A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

*-*

"Had we known such beauty awaited us at the Gates, we would have flown," Ser Roland said. Though his words were addressed to Myranda Royce, he smiled at Alayne as he said them.

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

LOVELY:

Sansa Stark looked especially lovely this morning, though her face was as pale as milk.

A Clash of Kings - Tyrion VI

*-*

Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. "You look very lovely today, my lady," Ser Arys said.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

*-*

"Leave the colors to me, my lady. You will be pleased, I know you will. You shall have smallclothes and hose as well, kirtles and mantles and cloaks, and all else befitting a . . . a lovely young lady of noble birth."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

*-*

When the moonstones hung from Sansa's ears and about her neck, the queen nodded. "Yes. The gods have been kind to you, Sansa. You are a lovely girl. It seems almost obscene to squander such sweet innocence on that gargoyle."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

"My lady," Tyrion said, "you are lovely, make no mistake, but . . . I cannot do this. My father be damned. We will wait. The turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes. Until you have come to know me better, and perhaps to trust me a little." His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but without a nose it only made him look more grotesque and sinister.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Her maids were dressing her when Tyrion appeared, Podrick Payne in tow. "You look lovely, Sansa." He turned to his squire. "Pod, be so good as to pour me a cup of wine."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

*-*

And false. Sansa, Shae, all my women … Tysha was the only one who ever loved me. Where do whores go? "A lovely girl," said Tyrion, "and we were joined beneath the eyes of gods and men. It may be that she is lost to me, but until I know that for a certainty I must be true to her."

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

*-*

"The Lord Protector's daughter," the bald knight announced, all hearty gallantry. He rose ponderously. "And full as lovely as the tales told of her, I see."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

PRETTY:

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls. Sansa's needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. "Sansa's work is as pretty as she is," Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. "She has such fine, delicate hands."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

"He's going to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment.

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

"Lady," he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansa had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.

A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

*-*

A pity Ned Stark had taken his daughters south; elsewise Theon could have tightened his grip on Winterfell by marrying one of them. Sansa was a pretty little thing too, and by now likely even ripe for bedding. But she was a thousand leagues away, in the clutches of the Lannisters. A shame.

A Clash of Kings - Theon IV

*-*

"I will sing it for you gladly."

Sandor Clegane snorted. "Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here . . . and every one better than you."

A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

*-*

I have to look pretty, Joff likes me to look pretty, he's always liked me in this gown, this color.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

*-*

"Leave her face," Joffrey commanded. "I like her pretty."

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

*-*

"Didn't you ever have a brother you wanted to kill?" He laughed again. "Or maybe a sister?" He must have seen something in her face then, for he leaned closer. "Sansa. That's it, isn't it? The wolf bitch wants to kill the pretty bird."

A Storm of Swords - Arya IX

*-*

Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him. If she thought that Sansa Stark had made for Riverrun . . . Had they encountered other travelers, he might have stopped to ask if any of them had chance to see a pretty maid with auburn hair, or a big ugly one with a face that would curdle milk. But there was no one on the roads but wolves, and their howling held no answers.

A Feast for Crows - Jaime III

*-*

Petyr put a finger under her chin. "That Royce glimpsed this pretty face I do not doubt, but it was one face in a thousand. A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

*-*

Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

She studied Alayne's face and chest. "You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger.  

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

Sansa was the pretty one. He remembered a time when he had thought that Lord Eddard Stark might marry him to Sansa and claim him for a son, but that had only been a child's fancy.

A Dance with Dragons - Reek I

*-*

Petyr put his arm around her. "So he is, but he is Robert's heir as well. Bringing Harry here was the first step in our plan, but now we need to keep him, and only you can do that. He has a weakness for a pretty face, and whose face is prettier than yours? Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

BEAUTIFUL:

"Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys.  

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst.To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

*-*

"Sweet Sansa," Queen Cersei said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. "Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you."  

A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

*-*

She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful.  

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

*-*

His smile emboldened her, made her feel beautiful and strong. He does love me, he does.  

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

*-*

"I will need hot water for my bath, please," she told them, "and perfume, and some powder to hide this bruise." The right side of her face was swollen and beginning to ache, but she knew Joffrey would want her to be beautiful.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

*-*

His brow was damp with sweat. "I saw Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a, a bit wan. Drawn, as it were."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VI

*-*

"Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. She loved nothing so well as tales of knightly valor. Men would say she had my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that. I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. She had auburn hair, lighter than mine, and so thick and soft... the red in it would catch the light of the torches and shine like copper..."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

*-*

As they lurched into motion, Tyrion reclined on an elbow while Sansa sat staring at her hands. She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Grief had given her a haunted, vulnerable look; if anything, it had only made her more beautiful. He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.  

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. "Lady Sansa," he told her, "you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

"Ser Loras," she finally managed, "you..  you look so lovely."

He gave her a puzzled smile. "My lady is too kind. And beautiful besides. My sister awaits you eagerly."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

*-*

"At the Hand's tourney, don't you remember? You rode a white courser, and your armor was a hundred different kinds of flowers. You gave me a rose. A red rose. You threw white roses to the other girls that day." It made her flush to speak of it. "You said no victory was half as beautiful as me."

Ser Loras gave her a modest smile. "I spoke only a simple truth, that any man with eyes could see."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

*-*

She wanted to look beautiful for Willas Tyrell. Even if Dontos was right, and it is Winterfell he wants and not me, he still may come to love me for myself.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

*-*

"You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed.

"I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must... he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions' heads. But the gash across his face was raw and red, and his nose was a hideous scab. "You are very beautiful, Sansa," he told her.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. And then the dance brought her face-to-face with Joffrey.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Littlefinger pointed out a cedar chest under the porthole. "You'll find fresh garb within. Dresses, smallclothes, warm stockings, a cloak. Wool and linen only, I fear. Unworthy of a maid so beautiful, but they'll serve to keep you dry and clean until we can find you something finer."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

*-*

"Marillion?" she said, uncertain. "You are... kind to think of me, but.. pray forgive me. I am very tired."

"And very beautiful.

All night I have been making songs for you in my head. A lay for your eyes, a ballad for your lips, a duet to your breasts. I will not sing them, though. They were poor things, unworthy of such beauty." He sat on her bed and put his hand on her leg. "Let me sing to you with my body instead."

She caught a whiff of his breath. "You're drunk."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

*-*

"I wish you could see yourself, my lady. You are so beautiful. You're crusted over with snow like some little bear cub, but your face is flushed and you can scarcely breathe. How long have you been out here? You must be very cold. Let me warm you, Sansa. Take off those gloves, give me your hands."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"Do you require guarding?" Marillion said lightly. "I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,' I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her."  

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"Have you no honor?" her aunt said sharply. "Or do you take me for a fool? You do, don't you? You take me for a fool. Yes, I see that now. I am not a fool. You think you can have any man you want because you're young and beautiful. Don't think I haven't seen the looks you give Marillion.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"And you must be the Lord Protector's daughter," she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. "I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"So you're brave as well as beautiful," Myranda said to her.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

"Aye," said the second knight, a burly fellow with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, a red nose bulbous with broken veins, and gnarled hands as large as hams. "You left out that part, m'lord."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all said I was pretty. Does Lord Ramsay think I am pretty?"

A Dance with Dragons - The Prince of Winterfell

*-*

"It was sweet," lied Tyrion, "but I am married. She was with me at the feast, you may remember her. Lady Sansa."

"Was she your wife? She … she was very beautiful …"

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

*-*

Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, "Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"You will be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight, as lovely as your lady mother at your age. I cannot seat you on the dais, but you'll have a place of honor above the salt and underneath a wall sconce. The fire will be shining in your hair, so everyone will see how fair of face you are. Keep a good long spoon on hand to beat the squires off, sweetling. You will not want green boys underfoot when the knights come round to beg you for your favor."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"A beautiful bastard, and the Lord Protector's daughter." Petyr drew her close and kissed her on both cheeks. "The night belongs to you, sweetling, Remember that, always."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

[apollos-son]

✎ ❝Won't You Stay By My Side?❞

Rating ; 13+

Pairing ; eventual poly ot8 ateez

Genre ; fluff, slight angst?

Tags ; painter Yeosang au, old au, nothing but sweet romance, poly ot8

Summery ; Kang Yeosang is a painter from the big city who recently moved away to a little port town very far away from any place he knew. With a determination to paint the scenic views, Yeosang hastily tries to settle in but finds that he can't get much work done because there happens to be some... distractions around the little town that seem to grab his attention in ways that other things couldn't.

Note : There are tags that might be added later on, and in specific chapters there may be trigger warnings, however if there does happen to be anything triggering in chapters that I have mistakenly not labeled with a trigger warning - please let me know so I can add a warning in, the last thing I want is to trigger somebody.

Also: something I should point out is that this fic will be tackling things such as homophobia and sexism purely because of the time-zone it's set in, so if you don't want to read about that then please don't read this. It won't be overbearingly obnoxious but it will be mentioned continuously throughout because it's a big part of the story.

I know this is unlikely but I do ask that you do not copy my work under any circumstances. Do not repost, translate or use my work without permission. Thanks :)

<- previous chapter • next chapter ->

chapter 1 ⇢ ❝I Can't Tear My Eyes Away.❞

The sun had recently risen, shining over the industrial buildings and bathing them with its warm light. As soon as that yellow luminescent glow flooded through the curtains of his apartment, Yeosang's eyes fluttered open slowly. The young painter pushed his body up with his palms until he was sat up completely. He rubbed his eyes gently with the sides of his index fingers and yawned quietly.

His small hands gripped the plush duvet carefully as he shifted his body to get out of bed. The loose button-up that hung onto his body covered most of his hands, right up to the knuckles. It was sheer, translucent even, and his soft, tanned skin could be seen from underneath. Not that anybody would be looking, of course, he lived alone. He had been living in the city ever since he was small. His bare feet thumped gently across the floorboards as he tiredly made his way to the small kitchen. His eyes were barely open, but when they had drifted to look at the old calendar that was fixed to the wall he grunted, and then when they gazed at the clock ticking away on the other wall next to his window they widened comically.

"shit! I'm late!" he cursed as he quickly slipped back into the bedroom to change.

Kang Yeosang wasn't somebody who considered himself anything more than "average" person. He was alright-looking, nothing special about his personality or anything like that. It had been his dream to paint beautiful scenes since he was a child, and yet the industrialism that overtook the entire city didn't seem to have any good spots for painting. Thick smog and old, dirty bricked buildings weren't really his taste. And that's exactly why when his uncle had made the offer of giving Yeosang his old home in a port town away from the city; there was no way he could refuse.

He was supposed to take a taxi ride all the way out there, but he must've gotten caught up with quitting his old job, because he hadn't even packed yet! In a quick flurry, he grabbed his clothes and threw them onto the bed. Thoughts of folding them and staying tidy immediately went away after he glanced back at the clock in the kitchen. Two leather brown cases that had golden clasps on the front were filled with clothes, the little self-care products he owned and his art supplies. Yeosang quickly hopped to the door, luggage in hand, before realizing... "aishh, I'm not even dressed!" he gasped, looking down at that flowy sheer shirt and shorts.

This was going to be a long day.

*

Far, far away from the bustling cities and the hassle of factory work, a quiet little port town hid. It was quite the overgrown place, seeming to look abandoned and yet was still full of life. It was a town of peace and tranquility, where everyone knew everyone. Clearbrook Port was one of the lesser known ports on the map. It didn't have those busy markets with exotic products from all around nor did it have any 'one of a kind' services. It attracted sailors not for its popularity, but for its quietness and its friendliness. A place of harmony; that's why it attracted Yeosang so much.

He recalls his uncle describing it as so different from the city he grew up in that it may take him a while to adjust, which was the only part of this experience that really worried Yeosang. He was typically a very shy person and also particularly quiet. He never really got on with any of his coworkers because of it, but he never really let that bother him.

He had been in the taxi for roughly an hour now (after having apologized at least twenty times for being late) and he was still staring longingly out the window. The smaller of the two brown cases he has brought was sat face up on his lap with his hands delicately laid over the top of it. The other case rested in the footwell of the seat next to him. The taxi itself seemed old, as it's colour wasn't a vibrant yellow, but rather a faded one. Despite the car's old appearance, the driver seemed to be quite young yet not chatty. Which was great for Yeosang, because he could just calmly stare out of the window. They had passed the threshold of where industrialism met nature a little while ago, he thought, so now he was merely gazing at old paths that had pretty flowers adorning the boarder. It was clear to him that these paths were still designed for horses and carriages because of how bumpy it had been.

Cars were a recent addition to society, so he assumed that this distant port town wouldn't have any use for them because it was small, right?

His train of thought was interrupted as the vehicle suddenly stopped. Yeosang's eyes flashed towards the driver and then back out of the window. Oh! They had arrived! He was so deep in his thoughts that he must've lost track of time. "ah! Thank you very much, sir," Yeosang thanked the man politely and gave him the money his uncle had provided him for the car ride.

He had just stepped out of the car and already there were people ready to greet him. A few older people, it seemed. Not that he was in a position to judge of course, he was here for the scenery of the town, not to belittle its residents. He glanced at each person briefly, a couple of sweet women with even sweeter smiles on their faces, an older man who seemed to be dressed in a much different manner to the rest of the people, it was.. richer almost? He didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the townspeople, or the whole vibe that the town gave off.

Yeosang may have had his eyes on the man longer than the others, but when his eyes drifted to the boy standing next to him, he let out a small gasp before covering his mouth. A short male, wearing similar clothing to the man he stood next to; it was far too posh. Yeosang could feel his cheeks flaring up just by how gorgeous the boy was. He wore a silk shirt that just so happened to have the top button loose, a pair of tweed trousers and a jacket that looked too big for him that protected him from the slight cold breeze that was drifting from the ocean's direction.

The boy smiled at him politely, his soft brown hair dancing in the gentle breeze. Oh, gosh, that smile. What a beautiful one it was. The way his eyes crinkled up just a little bit made Yeosang's heart flutter. "welcome, sir! I hope you had a safe journey!~" The boy chirped, his voice relatively average in pitch. He stepped forward and held his tiny hands out to hold one of Yeosang's, which caused the other male to press his lips together into a thin line. "My name is Kim Hongjoong, it's a pleasure to have you here in our little town, mister...?" he tilted his head a small amount, waiting for an answer. "Mister K-Kang Yeosang, sir!" The flustered male replied.

At Yeosang's shy tone, Hongjoong's bright smile only seemed to widen "Yeosang.." he hummed quietly, his hands squeezing Yeosang's jittery one. "What a pretty name," he complimented. The man that Hongjoong had once been stood next to cleared his throat obnoxiously to grab the younger man's attention. "Hongjoong, my son, you have other things to be getting up to rather than shamelessly complimenting our new resident, yes?" The man, now identified as Hongjoong's father, said with expectancy. The young man's smile dropped almost instantly and his hands immediately let go of Yeosang's hand. "You're right, father, my apologies," he hummed. "Well, Yeosang, I hope you settle in alright," he said kindly before turning around to leave.

Yeosang looked down at his hand slowly, blinking and replaying the scenario that just happened back in his head. He cupped his own cheek in an attempt to hide the redness that was displayed there. "Welcome, Mister Kang," Hongjoong's father spoke. Yeosang flashed the man an awkward smile. "We were actually expecting you earlier than this and unfortunately there are few people available to show you around, but I can trust that you'll eventually find your way, yes?"

*

It turns out that Yeosang couldn't find his way after all. He had stumbled around the town for an hour now at least. It was a pretty little town with cottages dotted around the area. None of them were too close to each other and none of them were too far. It was gave off a very home-like feel. The scenery was cause him to become very enraptured, it was quite new to him. There were a lot more plants and greenery than there were in the city. A lot of the buildings were made from stone and wood, too, which contrasted to the cities firm brick apartments. The stone itself looked to be quite worn down, especially the walls and some of the archways that lead out of the town and toward the open fields that resided behind. He was definitely going to go out there when he had the chance.

He had reached the far end of the port by this point, and his eyes were set on the cottage that was nestled right in the corner. That was the one, he thought. His uncle had told him that it was the most pretty one, and now that Yeosang's eyes had settled on it, he could easily agree. It was one of the medium sized homes, it wasn't small yet it wasn't excessively large. None of the homes seemed to be very large apart from the one that sat at the top of the hill near the town's entrance. The house was compiled of stone bricks, none of which were the same size and some of then were remarkably bigger than the others. Wooden boards seemed to frame the house in almost a perfect way. The roof had shingles that lead right from the roof's peak down to where it met the stone of the building.

Thin curtains of vines seemed to cover the front of the building, and plants were growing uncontrollably around it. Next to the cosy cottage, a small waterfall flowed into a pond that was surrounded by a few stones and moss.

"excuse me, sir?" a sweet yet deep voice came from the town's west exit. "oh yes? Can I help yo-" Yeosang turned around and his eyes widened softly at the sight before him. Another young male who was quite tall and very handsome. "Heh, my name's Song Mingi and I remembered that we were having someone new move in so I was just wondering if you needed any help at all? I've finished my shift at the general store so I'd be happy to help," Mingi offered, his brown eyes sparkling kindly.

Yeosang blinked a few times before sending the boy a shy smile "A-Ah, would you mind? I didn't bring a lot with me but.." he began "two is company, right?" Mingi offered, his fluffy red hair bouncing as he stepped closer. "R-Right, two is company," Yeosang repeated in a quieter tone.

*

"So you're a painter?" Mingi asked delicately as he watched Yeosang take a wooden easel from the bigger of the two suitcases he had brought with him. Yeosang gave him a quick nod "yes, I've always loved to paint. I used to work as an office worker and I would paint scenes and portraits for people on the side, that's part of the reason why I moved here," he explained to the taller male lightly as he set the easel down in the corner of his new bedroom and turned to his smaller suitcase that held all of his screwed up clothes ("did you pack at the last minute or are you just messy?" Mingi had asked him in a playful tone,) and he took the articles of clothing out, folding them neatly.

"You moved here to paint for someone?" The taller man inquired curiously and Yeosang shook his head "well, not exactly. I wanted to paint some scenes somewhere that wasn't.. In a bustling city. So my uncle offered me this home out here. It's far more scenic.,"

They stayed silent for a moment and Mingi watched as Yeosang sorted his clothing and his other items and smiled warmly. "Well, I think that we're lucky to have you here, if I may be so bold, you are very pretty," he said confidently. The compliment had Yeosang's ears turn red almost instantly. "Do you th-think so, Mister Song?" The stuttered comment caused Mingi to laugh just a little bit. "I do think so, Mister Kang," he replied playfully.

*

After Yeosang had unpacked his belongings, Mingi had offered to take him out for a walk to show him around, which he had graciously accepted. The two walked side-by-side as the afternoon sun shone upon them. Mingi took the time to properly show Yeosang the prettiest parts of the town. The harbor seemed to be newer than the rest of the town, which made the painter wonder if it was a new addition or if it had been destroyed or damaged prior to his arrival. At the docks, a young man who looked small but appeared to be quite muscular caught the young painter's eye. He was carrying a heavy looking barrel by himself. "Yah! Jongho-ah!" Mingi called "be careful! I wouldn't want you to get hurt, you hear?" he scolds the seemingly younger male. The male in question turned to look at Mingi, a cute smile coming over his face "Thanks for your concern, Mingi-hyung, but I'm fine, I promise!"

The tall male quickly became distracted by Jongho and started talking to the younger boy, distracting him from his job. A voice had come from the opposite direction "Mister Kang?" that familiar voice rang. It was the elder man, Hongjoong's father. "ah, I'm glad to find you out here again, have you settled in okay?" The man asked, but he didn't give Yeosang a chance to reply before continuing "I heard from someone that you are a renowned painter, yes?"

"renowned? I.. I don't know about that, sir! I do paint yes.. b-but-" the young male was cut off immediately "perfect! I need somebody to craft a wedding portrait of my son," the man announced. Shocked, the young painter stared at the elder male for a moment. He hadn't been commissioned by anybody in a while, and to make a portrait no less? "w-well... I could.. b-but.." he tried to speak up again, only to be cut off short "wonderful! Please come by to my manor tomorrow,"

As the elder man strode away, Yeosang sighed to himself. If he remembers correctly, that man's son is Hongjoong.. and he isn't sure if he was confident enough to talk to the male properly let alone paint him.

Out of all of the things he was expecting out of this little town, he certainly wasn't expecting that.

------------------------------------------------------

Lil taglist; @ningnings-plushies @catboy-dia @btsheadquarters7 @anon-giggles

[urlikeacankersore]

Royalty (Ethan Nestor x Reader)

an/ there will be a part two💜

Requested: no

Summary: Princess Y/n and Prince Ethan are having an arranged marriage, set up by their Parents of course, King and Queen of Cranken Ethan’s kingdom, and King and Queen of Crewton your kingdom.

Reader: female

Paring: Ethan Nestor x reader

“James, I don’t want to go, I don’t want to get married because of some stupid tradition!” I shout to my twin brother, James Wilson, the next King of Crewton. I would much rather stay here and become the next Queen of Crewton and stay Y/n Wilson, but nope, I have to go marry the prince of the next kingdom, something Nestor.

“I know, but you’ve been betrothed for nearly six months, I’m not sure why you’re so surprised,” My brother replies.

“You’re no help!” I complain plopping myself down in one of the chairs.

“You never asked for help,” He shrugs back in reply and walks out of the spacious room.

I can believe they’re making me stay in the Cranken Kingdom for the remaining two months before the wedding, it’s stupid. I would much rather marry for love over some dumb tradition. Like the new King of Iplier Kingdom, he married the beautiful now Queen out of love, and she was just a middle class noble.

“Y/n?” Came the soft voice of my younger sister bringing me from my unimpressed thoughts.

“In here Rina,” I say straightening my poster in the chair.

“Emmy said we’re going to Cranken Kingdom tomorrow, do you know why?” She asks walking over to my chair, her light brown hair in nearly perfect ringlets falling over her delicate shoulders.

“Well, I’m betrothed to the Prince of Cranken, meaning that he and I are gonna get married in two months' time. I’ve been invited to stay for the remaining of time before the wedding,” I say calmly not trying to show her that I don’t want to marry him.

“But I’m gonna miss you!” she says her small voice cracking slightly

“It’s gonna be okay Rina, don’t worry. I’ll send you letters and try my very hardest to visit,” I say giving her a hug and whipping the tear that fell down her pale cheek.

“Promise?” She asks looking at me.

“I promise,” I say, giving her another hug.

“Lady Irene, I’ve been sent to put you to bed,” says the sudden voice of her servant, Emily.

“But Simon I want to stay up!” she says as she pulls away from the hug.

“It’s your mother's order that you go to bed at 8:30, I believe Lady Y/n should be getting to bed too. Your family has a big day tomorrow,” she says looking at me keeping her poster straight as she stands by the big doors.

“Fine,” Irene grumbles walking towards Emily who also walks out of the room.

“Lady Y/n,” says the soft voice of Darcie, my servant or nanny, either way she raised me.

“Yes Darcie?” I say looking at her kind old eyes.

“Your mother has sent to escort you to your room,” She says kindly.

“I will walk myself, thank you Darcie. You’re dismissed for the night,” I say standing up from the chair and walking towards the door.

“Have a good night Princess Y/n,” She says turning and walking towards her quarters on the opposite side of the castle.

----

“Y/n! Hurry wake up! I want you to do my hair!” Says the voice of Rina to the right of my bed.

“Lady Irene, you could have asked me if you’d like,” Says the voice of Darcie as well as the sound of the door opening.

“I know Darcie, but I like the way Y/n brushes my hair!” she says in reply.

“Thank you Darcie, please come get me when it's breakfast time,” I say sitting up, once again dismissing Darcie.

“So, Y/n, will you please do my hair?” Rina asks again, looking at me with puppy dog eyes.

“Of course I will, please go grab your brush,” I say sitting up and smoothing the skirt of my nightgown. Irene hurry out of the room, her flowy purple night dress going behind her.

Irene returns moments later with her silver brush with her name engraved into it. “Y/n, are you gonna have to pack any bags?” she asks as she turns around handing me the prush.

“I was told not to, I’m guessing that they will have everything I will need,” I say starting to brush a new strand of her hair.

“Oh,” she says quietly.

“After I’m done brushing your hair you should let me put it in a braid,” I say brushing another strand.

“Deal,” she says laughing.

“What color of dress are you wearing today?” I ask.

“I was thinking I should wear blue since it matches their Kingdom colors,” she shrugs as I finish brushing her hair and start on the braid.

“Yeah, that would look nice, I could let you borrow my blue bow if you’d like,” I say as she turn towards me.

“Really?” she asks excitedly, she’s always had a special liking for the blue bow I have.

“Yes really. Now go get dressed and I will give you the bow when you’re back,” I say patting her shoulders.

She quickly climbs off my bed and runs towards the door. After she leaves I get off my bed and walk to my small closet full of different colored dresses. Looking in my eyes go straight to the purple one with short sleeves. I quickly grab it off the hanger and slip off my night dress, exchanging it for the purple one in my hands.

“Wow! Y/n I love your dress, it's so pretty!” the eight year old says, just like she does every time I wear this dress.

“Thank you Rina,” I say, grabbing the ribbon I use to make the blue bow with. Once Rina notices I have the ribbon in my hand she quickly turns around so I can tie it at the end of her braid.

“Lady Y/n and Irene, I’ve been sent to tell you to wash up for Breakfast,” come the soft voice of Darcie after a knock on my door.

“Yes of course, thank you Darcie,” I say dismissing her.

“I’m gonna go wash my hands, you should brush your hair,” Irene says as she turns around and brushes some of my hair off my shoulder and walks out of my room.

I turn around to the vanity in my room next to the mirror and grab the gold brush with my name engraved on the back of it, along with the family crest. I quickly brush my hair and walk to the bathroom that is also connected to my room and quickly wash my hands in the sink.

Just as I walk out of my room I see Darcie waiting for me by the stairs. “Hello Darcie,” I greet as I walk towards the stairs, Darcie of course following.

“It’s a shame to see you go Lady Y/n, you will be greatly missed,” she says as she walks behind me on the stairs.

“I know, I will of course miss you and try to write as often as possible, plus it won't be forever, I’ll be back for James wedding,” I say with a smile turning around to glance at the lady who raised me.

“Miss Y/n, please look forward when you walk down the stairs, I don’t want you to slip,” she says with a kind smile.

“Of course Darcie,” I say turning around for the last few steps, then taking a right down the hall to the doors to the big dining room.

Walking in I quickly take my seat at my usual spot, right in between James and Irene.

“Thank you for joining us, Y/n,” my mother says looking at you with a stern look.

“Sorry for being late, my hair was a bit more ratted than anticipated,” I say looking down at my lap.

“It’s fine,” my father says, loading food onto his plate, “You kids may start.”

“So Y/n, are you excited to go to Cranken today?” my Father asks, looking up from his glass.

“Yes father, I think it will be a great experience,” I say, lying.

“I’m glad you’re excited, I hear Prince Nestor is a fine young man,” He says nodding.

“James, Melanie should be here in two weeks to stay, I believe you two will get along great,” My mother says looking at my brother.

“I do too, she has sent me a few letters, she seems very kind,” James says with a smile.

“What time do we leave?” Rina asks from beside me.

“We leave immediately after we finnish eating, they are getting the carriage ready as we speak,” My Father says looking up at Irene.

“Yay,” I mutter under my breath sarcastically.

Breakfast finishes quickly, mainly keeping the conversation about how James and I are being sent off for marriage, well me mainly being sent off for marriage, James getting to stay.

“Mother, may I say goodbye to Darcie?” I say as I realise this is the last time I’ll see her for a while.

My mother nods and continues walking towards the door.

“Lady Y/n, it has been a pleasure to serve you and watch you grow,” Darcie says with a sad smile.

“Thank you so much Darcie. Please take care of my sister,” I say hugging her, Darcie quickly hugging me back.

“Of course Miss Y/n. Now please be good, I will miss you so dearly,” She says whipping a tear that I didn’t realise fell.

I nod, my head and give her a quick smile then turn and walk towards the door to the outside of the castle where the carriage should be waiting.

“Take good care of the horses Simon,” I say with a smile to the main servant that takes care of our horses.

“Of course Miss Y/n,” he says, returning the smile and nodding.

----

We enter the kingdom of Cranken, the towns people looking towards the carriage as it pulls my family. Rina looking out at them with a big smile.

“We should be there in five minutes,” My father says from across me.

James, Irene, and I nod. I lean my head against the wall of the carriage.

Luckily the five minutes pass by quickly and we enter the gates of the castle. The King and Queen of Cranken are already waiting by the doors ready for our carriage. The carriage comes to a slow stop and my mother and father step out first, James and Irene following, James offering me his hand to help step out of the carriage.

“Nice to see you again, Rose,” The Queen says

“It’s been quite long, how have you been?” my mother's kind voice flows from beside me.

“I’ve been well, I believe you are probably ready to meet Ethan,” The Queen says nodding to my mother.

“Yes, we are,” Says my Father standing up straight.

“I will have Sam fetch him,” The king says to the servant I assume is Sam.

A few minutes later the servant walks back with a boy, my age who is quite handsome.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure when they’d be arriving,” The boy say standing up straight next to the king.

“It’s fine, now I believe we should introduce you all, this is Ethan, the next heir of the throne,” the king says, clapping his sons shoulder proudly.

We curtsey and bow.

“This is my eldest and only son, James the heir of my throne,” My father says as James steps forward and nods his head, My dad then moves onto me, “This is Y/n, she will be the one to stay and marry your son,” Father says, I take his pause as the que to step forward and bow my head and then step back to place much like James did. He then moves on to Irene, “This is my youngest daughter, Irene,” He says as she copies everything James and I did.

“Very nice to meet you all,” The queen says, Ethan keeps his gaze on me.

“You are free to wonder around the grounds while we go talk,” The king says, motioning for my mother and father to follow him into the castle. Ethan looks to his father and starts walking towards James, Irene, and I.

“Nice to meet you all, I would be glad to show you around,” He says with a charming smile.

“That would be great, thank you,” I say offering a smile back.

“In that case follow me this way,” He replies, turning around and walking towards the castle doors.

----

It’s now dinner time and we have all been guided where to sit, us and the Nestor family sitting at a main table and a few other kingdoms such as the Iplier Kingdom, Pewds Kingdom, and Septic Kingdom have joined us, each sitting at their own table.

“Thank you all for coming, it has been an absolute pleasure having you all here, you may begin,” The king says, taking his seat next to his wife. Instead of being seated between James and Irene, I’ve been seated next to Ethan, per his request. He’s really not as bad as I thought he’d be, he’s very kind and charming. Maybe my stay won’t be so bad.

Everyone started to gather food on their plate. Ethan looked up at me as he passed me a bowl of food and started to speak. “So, do you have any cool hobbies?”

“I like to ride horses and I like archery,” I say looking at him.

“We just got a new horse the other day, his name is Zander. I’ll have to take you out to the stables later. And as far as archery tomorrow I’ll show you the range it’s pretty cool,” He says smiling once again.

----

I finished dinner and thought that it would be nice to talk with the other princes and kings since its been awhile.

“So, Y/n you're betrothed to Ethan, must be pretty excited,” Mark, king of Iplier says is a teasing manor.

“Oh she's extremely excited, you can see the way she looks at him already,” Jack say laughing.

“I seriously hate talking to you two,” I say laughing as well.

“Do you boys ever not tease Y/n?” Amy marks wife asks as she walks over.

“Sometimes, I mean it depends,” Felix says with a smirk.

“Hello, it’s been awhile since we’ve spoken, How’ve you been,” Ethan asks, now walking over and talking to Mark.

“I’ve been great,” Mark says nodding.

Ethan then turns to me and says, “Y/n your family's leaving and wanted to know if you'd like to walk them out.”

“Yes, thank you,” I say with a smile, turning and walking towards my parents who are walking out of the castle doors with my siblings.

We walk to the carriage that's all ready to take them home, I give my Father a quick hug and kiss on the cheek goodbye. Then James who hugs me. My mother and Irene waited patiently.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” Irene cries into the skirt of my dress, which brings tears to my eyes.

“I know, but I’ll be back to visit and I will write every week,” I say and give her a final squeeze. Then turn to my mother.

“Y/n I know that you don’t like the idea of an arranged marriage, but we chose the best choice possible for you,” she says with tears in her eyes, still sad that you won’t be coming home with her.

“I know mother,” I say and give her a hug.

“Please try and stay your happy self, I love you,” she says getting into the carriage. I take a step away from the carriage and watch as it slowly pulls away, until it's out of sight.

“It must be hard to have to leave them,” A sudden voice says from beside me, startling me slightly.

I turnt to see Ethan standing next to me, “Yeah, I meant it’s hard, but I’ll be fine,” I say looking at him.

“If you’d like I can show you to your room since it's right next to mine,” He says, changing the subject.

“Did all the guests leave already?” I ask looking at him. He nods. “Yeah, you showing me to my room would be wonderful,” I then say in reply.

He offers his arm, which I accept. We walk up two flights of stairs to the west wing where our rooms are, he walks me to mine and leaves me with the words, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come to my room.”

I quickly get dressed for bed in the clothes that I have never seen before, and lay in a bed I have never been in before. Maybe after some adjusting living here won't be so bad.

[king-finnigan]

Please do 2 and 49 for the geraskier prompts!

2: Royal AU + 49: Fake Married

Sorry it took me a while, anon! School’s been eating me alive.

***

Geralt’s always loved horses. He loves their elegance, loves their strength, loves their personalities and the way they press their noses against his pockets, looking for treats. 

He’s always loved being around them, he’s always loved brushing them and spoiling them after a hard day of ploughing the fields that surround the farm. 

Today is Wednesday, though, and his dad always forces him to take the day off on Wednesday - he’s not sure why Wednesday, specifically. Vesemir never dignified him with an answer, when he asked.

So, he gets up early in the morning, like he does every day - he’s never been one for sleeping in, anyways - and goes to the stable. He should brush Roach and Beetle, before maybe taking one of them on a ride through the hills - probably Roach, since Beetle is getting a bit older, and she’s never really been the adventurous type. He doesn’t blame her of course, after all the hard work she does day in day out, she deserves to stand around and do nothing all day if she wants to.

He walks out of the cottage, the late spring mist swirling around his feet as he walks through the orchard. He stops by one of the trees, reaching up to pick three slightly-too-ripe apples that would never make it to the market, before he continues walking to the stables. 

“Mornin’,” he greets Beetle, feeding her one of the apples. She munches on it happily, her big, brown eyes looking at him intently. He frowns a bit. She never looks at him like that. He shrugs it off, walking to the next stable, where Roach is. “And good morning to you,” he mutters, giving her the second apple, putting the third one in his pocket for later. 

Roach eats it, but butts him with her nose immediately after, shaking her head when he looks at her curiously. He walks back to the door, taking a brush off one of the hooks on the wall as he talks: “Something the matter, girls? You two seem a bit agitated.”

The horses, of course, don’t reply. He’s always loved them for that.

“Alright,” he mutters, a she turns back around. “Who first?” Roach neighs, shaking her head again. “Alright, alright. Impatient today, aren’t we?” he says, chuckling a bit as he opens the door to her box, stepping inside.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees someone huddled in the corner.

“What the hell?” He’s only aware of the fact that he’s dropped the brush when he hears it clatter on the floor.

Blue eyes shine up at him, red-rimmed, half-covered in a mess of brown curls. He steps forward, towards the young man curled up in the corner, hands balling by his side. He doesn’t care if he gets attacked, he can defend himself, he only cares about the horses. The stranger is so close to Roach’s hind leg, and if he were to break it, Geralt would have to put Roach down - and he definitely does not want to lose his best friend.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The young man sniffles, wiping his face on his dirty sleeve. His clothes look fancy enough, like they cost a lot of money, but they’re all torn and bloodied, seemingly from a gash in the man’s forehead, and the scratches on his cheeks and hands. 

“Sorry,” the stranger whispers, “it was cold last night, and I had nowhere else to go.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

Geralt sighs, crossing his arms in front of him. This is his only fucking day off in the week, he doesn’t have time to question the stranger that’s broken into his stable. “Why’d you have nowhere else to go?”

The stranger rubs his reddened eyes again, before clasping his hands around his stomach - Geralt can hear it growling from here. “Ran away.”

Geralt sighs again, sitting down on the ground. “Why?”

“It was...” the young man clears his throat “it was... a prison.”

Geralt clenches his fists. “You escaped from prison?” He plants his hands on the ground, ready to get up and get on Roach to find the nearest palace guard - if this man is a criminal, then Geralt does not want to be caught red-handed harbouring him, even if he didn’t really consent to it.

“Nonono!” The young man reaches forward, trying to stop Geralt. “Not literally. I mean- I uh...” He rubs the back of his neck, frowning. “Shit. I’m so sorry, I thought I would be able to leave before you found me, I didn’t know you’d be getting up so early.” He waits for an answer, but Geralt merely purses his lips, jaw clenched.

The young man rubs the back of his neck again. “My dad, he uh... he’s a bit... very... incredibly overbearing. He wants to control my life, and I don’t want that. So I ran away.”

The young man’s stomach growls again, and the delicate features scrunch up in pain. Geralt sighs, and takes the last apple out of his pocket, the one he intended on eating himself, and rolls it towards the other man. 

Wide, blue eyes look at him in wonder and gratitude, as nimble fingers reach for the fruit. “Thank you, uh...”

“Geralt.”

“Thank you, Geralt.” He’s about to take a bite, when he stops himself. “I’m uh... Jaskier, by the way.” He bites into the fruit, face relaxing as he sighs deeply, a soft hum at the back of his throat.

“You’re welcome, Uh-Jaskier.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes and smiles at him, cheeks stuffed with apple. Geralt can’t help but smile back. Jaskier may be strange, and kind of off-putting, familiar in a way that Geralt feels like he should know the man, but not in a personal way, and he may look like a bit of a poncy prick, with his fancy clothes and neatly cut hair, but Geralt can also see the relief in those blue eyes, see the weight of the world lift off those thin shoulders.

And maybe he feels a little bad, sure. And maybe he decides not to chase Jaskier away the first chance he gets. But he’s definitely chasing the young man away the second chance he gets.

“So, Geralt,” Jaskier says, muffled through the bits of apple, “do you always talk to horses?”

Geralt frowns, shrugging. “I suppose so. Do you always run through the woods like a madman?”

Jaskier frowns, indignant look on those delicate features. “What makes you think I was running like a madman?”

Geralt looks him up and down, in a way that’s clearly saying: Did you even look at yourself? “You’re covered in scratches and bruises and your clothes are ripped. Either you were behaving like an idiot, or you got beaten up.” It’s silent for half a beat. “Though those two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Jaskier gasps at him, nimble fingers on his chest, mouth agape. “How dare you. I’ll let you know I’m-” He cuts himself up, his finger hanging in the air between them.

Geralt pulls his eyebrows up. “You’re what?”

The young man shakes his head. “Nothing,” he mumbles.

Geralt shrugs again, turning around when he hears the thunder of hooves on the dirt, outside. A distant shout: “Julian! Julian Alfred Pankratz!”

Geralt frowns, shaking his head lightly, as he turns back to Jaskier, who’s blushing from his slender neck to his messy hair. “Wait,” he mutters, “are you Julian? Are they calling out for you?”

Jaskier looks at him, wide, blue eyes guilty and sad, so incredibly sad. 

“What’s this noise all about?” He hears Vesemir shout in the distance, probably standing in the doorway to the cottage.

Julian Alfred Pankratz. He’s heard that name before. 

He squints his eyes, raking through his memory. Oh no. It makes sense now. The clumsiness in the woods, the fancy clothing, the familiar-but-not-that-familiar face. Julian Alfred Pankratz. The crown prince of Kaedwen.

He stands up abruptly, heading for the door. He’s not going to get himself and his dad arrested for harboring a runaway prince, for the love of the gods.

“Wait!” Jaskier calls behind him, still on the floor, and for some reason, Geralt does stop. He doesn’t turn back, though, and simply waits for Jaskier’s explanation.

“He was gonna marry me off. My dad. To some noble lady from Nazair. I don’t wanna marry a noble lady from Nazair.”

Geralt sighs, rolling his eyes. “I completely understand. Your life must be so hard.”

He can hear Jaskier sniffle behind him, probably crying again. “I know you don’t understand. I wouldn’t, either. I mean, she’s pretty and she’s nice and she’s a noble lady from Nazair. But-” it’s quiet for a second or two, as the palace guards keep shouting the prince’s name, outside, “but my dad doesn’t understand that I don’t wanna marry a lady.”

Geralt looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t wanna marry a lady,” Jaskier whispers again, tears in his eyes, blush creeping up his neck, hands trembling in front of him as he stares at the floor. “He doesn’t approve.”

“Oh.” Geralt thinks for a second, lets Roach bump his shoulder with her nose, lets her snort against his frown. “And if you go back now, you have to marry her?”

Jaskier nods, a single tear rolling down his cheek. 

“And if you were already married? He can’t break the sanctity of marriage, once it’s completed.”

Jaskier looks up at that, frowning at him. “I guess, but I don’t know anyone who’s willing to marry me right here and now.”

Geralt sighs, and looks at Roach, who looks right back at him. He can’t believe he’s gonna do this. 

He turns around, kneeling in the straw, as the footsteps of the guards approach the stable. It’s only minutes until they find Jaskier. 

Geralt takes a piece of straw, taking Jaskier’s left hand, tying the straw around his finger. He holds his hand out. “You do the same.” Jaskier does as he’s told, eyes confused but realization slowly dawning, hands trembling.

“But- the ritual of getting married takes longer, this isn’t marrying, we’re not-”

“Yes, I know that,” Geralt hisses impatiently, then beckons to the door with his head, “but they don’t know that. We just have to keep pretending.”

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, doesn’t know why he’s basically about to throw his whole life at the farm away for a life at the court, but he feels bad for Jaskier, feels the same anger and frustration and sadness mirrored in himself about not being understood, not being accepted for who you love.

He remembers a summer love, long ago. He remembers Vesemir chasing him away.

“This is just temporary, okay? Just until you find someone you actually love, and then you can marry him and reveal that this was all fake, alright?”

Jaskier’s finally finished tying the straw around his fingers, but his hands clasp Geralt’s before he can move away. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Geralt loses a little piece of himself in those ocean eyes.

He shakes the sudden dizziness away, and pulls Jaskier up, taking his hand, leading him outside.

Immediately, they’re surrounded by guards, their swords aimed at Geralt’s chest. He swallows thickly. “Let the prince go!” One of the guards says, the point of his blade pushing into the fabric of Geralt’s shirt.

“No!” Jaskier shouts, standing between them, clasping Geralt’s hand in his. “Don’t, McKinley. He’s-” his voice catches in his throat “he’s my husband?” he whispers.

McKinley takes a step back. “What?”

Jaskier smiles hesitantly, holding up his hand with the piece of straw around his finger, then holds Geralt’s hand up, showing the matching makeshift ring. “I got married?”

McKinley pales. “Oh, gods, Julian, I don’t want to be the one to tell your father about this.”

Jaskier shrugs. “It’s okay, I’ll explain, don’t worry about it.”

Geralt’s eyes are drawn by Vesemir, standing outside the semi-circle of guards, looking just as confused as they are. “Married?” he mouths at Geralt.

“Explain later.” Geralt mouths back.

Oh, gods, he thinks to himself, as the guards bow to him and Jaskier, one by one, muttering ‘our royal highnesses’. What have I gotten myself into?

[sinceileftyoublog]

Riot Fest 2021: 9/16-9/19, Douglass Park

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Much like Pitchfork Music Festival earlier this month, this past weekend’s Riot Fest felt relatively normal. Arriving at Douglas Park every day, you were greeted by the usual deluge of attendees in Misfits t-shirts and dyed hair, the sound of faint screams and breakneck guitars and drums emanating from nearby stages. The abnormal aspects of the fest, at least as compared to previous incarnations, we’re already used to by now from 2021 shows: To get in, you had to show proof of vaccination and/or a negative test no older than 48 hours, which means that unvaxxed 4-day attendees had to get multiple tests. Props to the always awesome staff at Riot Fest for actually checking the cards against the names on government-issued IDs.

For a festival that dealt with a plethora of last-minute changes due to bands dropping out because of COVID-19 caution (Nine Inch Nails, Pixies, Dinosaur Jr.) or other reasons (Faith No More/Mr. Bungle because of concerns around Mike Patton’s well-being), there were very few bumps in the road. Whether Riot Fest had bands like Slipknot, Anthrax, or Rise Against in their back pocket as replacements or not, it very much felt like who we saw Thursday-Sunday was always supposed to be the lineup, even when laying your eyes on countless “Death to the Pixies” shirts. Sure, one of the fest’s main gimmicks--peeling back the label on Goose Island’s Riot Fest Sucks Pale Ale to reveal the schedule--was out of date with inaccurate set times and bands, and it still would have been so had Faith No More and Mr. Bungle stayed, since Fucked Up had to drop out last minute due to border issues. But the festival, as always, rolled with the punches.

The sets themselves offered the circle pit and crowdsurfing-inducing punk and metal you’re used to, with a few genre outliers. For so many bands of all styles, Riot Fest represented their first live show in years, and a few acts knew the exact number of days since their last show. For every single set, the catharsis in the crowd and on stage was palpable, not exactly anger, or elation, but pure release.

Here were our favorite sets of the festival, in chronological order.

WDRL

Last October, WDRL (which, amazingly, stands for We Don’t Ride Llamas) announced themselves with a Tweet: “y’all been looking for an alt black band,, well here you go”. A band of Gen Z siblings, Chase (lead guitar), Max (lead vocals), Blake (drums), and Kit Mitchell (bass guitar), WDRL is aware, much like Meet Me @ The Altar (who, despite my hyping, I couldn’t make it in time to see) that they’re one of too few bands of POCs in the Riot Fest-adjacent scene. Their set, one of the very first of the weekend during Thursday’s pre-party, showed them leading by example, the type of band to inspire potentially discouraged Black and brown folks to start punk bands. Max is a terrific vocalist, able to scream over post-punk, scat over funk, and coo over slow, soulful R&B swayers with the same ease. The rest of the band was equally versatile, able to pivot on a dime from scuzzy rock to hip hop to twinkling dream pop. Bonus points for covering Splendora’s “You’re Standing On My Neck”, aka the Daria theme song.

Joyce Manor

Joyce Manor’s self-titled debut is classic. The best part of it as an album play-through at a festival? It’s so short that you can hear it and you’ll still have half a set for other favorites. So while the bouncy “Orange Julius”", “Ashtray Petting Zoo”, and ultimate singalong “Constant Headache” were set highlights, the Torrance, CA band was able to burn through lots from Never Hungover Again, Cody, Million Dollars to Kill Me, and their rarities collection Songs From Northern Torrance. Apart from not playing anything from Of All Things I Will Soon Grow Tired (seriously, am I the only one who loves that record?), Joyce Manor were stellar, from the undeniable hooks of “Heart Tattoo” to the churning power chords of “Catalina Fight Song”. After playing “Christmas Card”, Johnson and company gave one final nod to the original fest cancellation, My Chemical Romance, who were slated to headline 2020, then 2021, and now 2022. If you ever wondered what it would sound like hearing a concise punk band like Joyce Manor take on the bombast of “Helena”, you found out. Hey, it was actually pretty good!

Patti Smith

Behold: a full Patti Smith set! After being shafted by the weather last time around, a sunglasses-laden Smith decided not to fuck around, leading with the inspiring “People Have The Power”, her voice as powerful as I’ve ever heard it. Maybe it was the influence of Riot Fest, but she dropped as many f-bombs as Corey Taylor did during Slipknot’s Sunday night headlining set. After reluctantly signing an adoring crowd member’s copy of Horses, she quipped, “I feel bad for you have to cart that fucking thing around.” It wasn’t just the filthy banter: This was Smith at her most enraptured and incendiary, belting during “Because The Night” and spitting during a “Land/Gloria” medley, reciting stream-of-consciousness hallucinogenic lyrics about the power of escape in the greatest display of stamina the festival had to offer.

Circa Survive

“It feels good to dance,” declared Circa Survive lead singer Anthony Green. The heart and soul of the Philadelphia rock band, who cover ground from prog rock to post-hardcore and emo, Green was in full form during the band’s early Friday set, his falsetto carrying the rolling “The Difference Between Medicine and Poising Is in the Dose” and the chugging “Rites of Investiture”. While the band, too, can throw down, they’re equally interesting when softer and more melodic, Brendan Ekstrom‘s twinkling guitars lifting “Child of the Desert” and “Suitcase”. Ending with the one-two punch of debut Juturna’s introspective “Act Appalled” and Blue Sky Noise’s skyward “Get Out”, Green announced the band would have a new record coming soon, one you hope will cover the sonic and thematic ground of even just those two tracks.

Thrice

Thrice played their first show since February 2020 the same day they’d release their 11th studio album, Horizons/East (Epitaph). To a crowd of fans that came to hear their favorite songs, though, the Irvine, California band knew better than to play a lot of the new record, instead favoring tracks like The Artist in the Ambulance’s spritely title cut and Vheissu standout “The Earth Will Shake”. Yeah, they led with a Horizons/East song making its live debut, the dreamy, almost Deftones-esque “Scavengers”, and later in the set they’d reveal the impassioned “Summer Set Fire to the Rain”. But the set more prominently served to emphasize lead vocalist Dustin Kensrue’s gruff delivery, on “All the World Is Mad” and “in Exile”, the rhythm section’s propulsive playing buoying his fervency. And how about Teppei Teranishi’s finger tapping on “Black Honey”?!? Thrice often favor the slow build-up, but they offered plenty of individually awesome moments.

Smashing Pumpkins

William Patrick Corgan entered the stage to dramatic strings, dressed in a robe, with white face paint except for red hearts under his eyes. He looked like a ghost. That’s pretty much where the semi-serious theatricality ended. The Smashing Pumpkins’ first Chicago festival headlining set in recent memory was the rawest they’ve sounded in a while, counting when they played an original lineup-only set at the United Center a few years back. It was also the most fun I’ve ever seen Corgan have on stage. Though they certainly selected and debuted from their latest electropop turn Cyr, Corgan, guitarist James Iha, drummer Jimmy Chamberlin, guitarist Jeff Schroeder, and company more notably dug deep into the vault, playing Gish’s “Crush” for the first time since 2008, Adore’s “Shame” for the first time since 2010, and Siamese Dream barnburner “Quiet” for the first time since 1994 (!). Best, every leftfield disco jam like set opener “The Colour Of Love”, “Cyr”, and “Ramona” was quickly followed by something heavy and/or recognizable, Chamberlin’s limber drum solos elevating even latter-day material like “Solara”. At one point, Corgan, a self-described “arty fuck,” admitted that years ago he would have opted for more experimental material, but he knew the crowd wanted to hear classics, the band then delving into a gorgeous acoustic version of “Tonight, Tonight”. And while Kate Bush coverer Meg Myers came out to sing Lost Highway soundtrack industrial ditty “Eye”, it was none other than legendary local shredder Michael Angelo Batio who stole the show, joining for the set closer, a pummeling version of Zeitgeist highlight “United States”. Leaning into the cheese looks good on you, Billy.

The Bronx

Credit to L.A. punk rock band The Bronx, playing early on a decidedly cooler Saturday early afternoon, for making me put in my earplugs outside of the photo pit. Dedicating “Shitty Future” to Fucked Up (who, as we mentioned, had to drop out), the entire band channeled Damian Abraham’s energy on piercing versions of “Heart Attack American” as well as “Superbloom” and “Curb Feelers” from their latest album Bronx VI (Cooking Vinyl). Joby J. Ford and Ken Horne’s guitars stood out, providing choppy rhythms on “Knifeman” and swirling solos on “Six Days A Week”.

Big Freedia

The New Orleans bounce artist has Big Diva Energy, for the most part. After her DJ pumped up the crowd to contemporary Southern rap staple “Ayy Ladies” by Travis Porter, Big Freedia walked out and showed that “BDE”, firing through singles like “Platinum” and “N.O. Bounce” as her on-stage dancers’ moves ranged from delicate to earth-shaking. At this point, Freedia can pretty much do whatever she wants, effortlessly segueing between a cover of Drake’s “Nice For What” to “Strut”, her single with electropop DJ Elohim, to a cover of Beyone’s “Formation”. Of course, the set highlight was when she had volunteers from the crowd come up and shake and twerk--two at a time to keep it COVID-safe--all while egging them on to go harder. Towards the end of the set, after performing the milquetoast “Goin’ Looney” from the even-worse-than-expected Space Jam: A New Legacy soundtrack, she pulled out the beloved “Gin in my System”. “I got that gin in my system,” she sang, the crowd singing back, “Somebody gonna be my victim,” a refrain that compositionally not only leaves plenty of room for the thundering bass but is thematically a statement of total power--over sexism, racism, the patriarchy--even in the face of control-altering substances.

Les Savy Fav

During Les Savy Fav’s set, lead singer Tim Harrington at various points--*big breath*--went into the crowd, deepthroated an audience member’s mohawk spike, found a discarded manikin head with a wig on it, revealed the words “deep” and “dish” painted on his thighs and a drawing of a Red Hot on his back, rode a crowd member like a horse, made a headband out of pink tape, donned ski goggles, surfed on top of a door carried by the crowd, squeezed his belly while the camera was on it to make it look like his belly button was singing, and referred to himself as a “slippery eel.” Indeed, the legend of Les Savy Fav’s live show starts and ends with Harrington’s ridiculous antics, as he’s all but out of breath when actually singing dance-punk classics like “Hold On To Your Genre”, “The Sweat Descends”, and “Rome (Written Upside Down)”. We haven’t heard much in terms of new music from Les Savy Fav in over 10 years--their most recent album was 2010′s Root For Ruin--but I could see them and the extremely Aughts genre in general become staples of Riot Fest as albums like Inches, The Rapture’s Echoes, and !!!’s Louden Up Now reach the 20-year mark. Dynamic vocalists, tight bands, and killer grooves: What’s not to love?

State Champs

This set likely wins the award for “most immediate crowd surfers,” which I guess is to be expected when you begin your set with a classic track 1--album 1 combination. “Elevated” is the State Champs number that will cause passers-by to stop and watch a couple songs, the type of song that can pretty much only open or close a set. And because they opened with it, the crowd immediately ramped up the energy. It’s been three years since the last State Champs full-length, Living Proof, so they were in prime position to play some new songs. As such, they performed their bubblegummy “Outta My Head” and “Just Sound” and faithfully covered Fall Out Boy’s “Chicago Is So Two Years Ago” (releasing a studio version earlier this week). But the tracks from The Finer Things and Around the World and Back were, as usual, the highlights, like “All You Are Is History”, “Remedy”, “Slow Burn”, and set closer “Secrets”. At the end of the day, it didn’t entirely matter: The crowd knew every word of every song.

Bayside

Putting State Champs and Bayside back-to-back on the same stage made an easy decision for the many pop-punk bands at Riot Fest. Bayside’s been at it for twice as long, so the breadth of their setlist across their discography is more variable. Moreover, they’ve thrice revisited their discography with acoustic albums of old songs, so even their staples are subject to change. They provided solid versions of Killing Time standouts “Already Gone” and “Sick, Sick, Sick”, Cult’s “Pigsty”, and older songs like their self-titled’s “Montauk” and Sirens and Condolences’ “Masterpiece”. For “Don’t Call Me Peanut”, though, they brought out--*gasp*--an acoustic guitar! It was a rare moment not just for one of the most popular pop punk sets but the festival in general, a breather before Vacancy shout-along “Mary”.

Rancid

“Rancid has always been anti-fascist and anti-racist,” said Tim Armstrong before the band played “Hooligans”. It was nice to hear an explicit declaration of solidarity from the street punks, reminding the crowd what really matters and why we come together to scream and mosh. The band expectedly favored ...And Out Come The Wolves, playing almost half of it, and they perfectly balanced their harder edges with more celebratory ska songs like “Where I’m Going” from their most recent album Trouble Maker (Hellcat/Epitaph). My two favorite moments? The breezy, keyboard-laden “Fall Back Down” from their supremely underrated 2001 album Indestructable, and when they asked the crowd whether they wanted the set to end with “Time Bomb” or “Ruby Soho”. “We have 4 minutes left, and it’s disrespectful to play over your set time,” said Armstrong. It’s easy to see why Rancid continues to make an impression--instrumental and moral--on touring bands new and old.

Run the Jewels

The brilliant hip hop duo are masters of balancing social consciousness with the desire to fuck shit up for fun. Live, the former tends to come in between-song banter, the latter with their actual charismatic, tit-for-tat performances of the songs. However, Run the Jewels also are probably the clearest live performers in hip hop today, Killer Mike and El-P’s words, hypersexual and woke alike, ringing in the ears of audience members who don’t even know the songs. (Looking around, I could see people smiling and laughing at every dick joke, nodding at each righteous proclamation.) Some of the best songs on their most recent album RTJ4 (Jewel Runners/BMG) are perfect for these multitudes. Hearing both RTJ MCs and the backing track of Pharrell Williams and Zack de la Rocha chanting “Look at all these slave masters posin’ on yo’ dollar” on “JU$T” as the rowdy crowd bounced up and down was the ultimate festival moment. For those who had never seen RTJ, it was clear from the get-go, as Killer Mike and EL-P traded bars on “yankee and the brave (ep. 4)” that they’re a unique hip hop act. For the rest of us, it was clear that Run the Jewels keep getting better.

The Gories

It felt a little weird that legendary Detroit trio The Gories were given the first set of the final day--I’d have thought they’d have more draw than that. No matter what, they provided one of the more satisfying and stylistically varied sets of the festival, showcasing their trademark balance of garage punk and blues. Mick Collins and Dan Kroha’s guitar and vocal harmonies were the perfect jangly balance to Peggy O’Neill’s meat and potatoes drumming on “Sister Ann” and “Charm Bag”, while folks less familiar with The Gories were treated to their fantastic covers of Suicide’s “Ghost Rider” and The Keggs’ “To Find Out”. Smells like time for the first Gories album in 20 years!

FACS

I thought it would be ill-fitting to watch a band like FACS in the hot sun, early in the day. Their monochrome brand of post-punk seems better suited for a dimly lit club. But the hypnotic nature of Brian Case’s swirling guitar and Alianna Kalaba’s slinky bass was oddly perfect in a sweltering, faint-inducing heat. Just when you thought you might fade, squalls of feedback and Noah Leger’s odd time signatures picked you back up. Songs from their new album Present Tense (Trouble In Mind) such as “Strawberry Cough” and “XOUT” were emblematic of this push-pull. And everything from the band’s red, white, and black color palate to their lack of stage banter suggested a cool minimalism that was rare at a festival that tends to book more outwardly emotional bands.

Alex G

On one hand, Alex G’s unique combination of twangy alt country and earnest indie rock makes him an outlier at Riot Fest, or at the very least a mostly Pitchfork/occasional Riot Fest type of booking. On the other hand, like a lot of bands at the festival, he has a rabid fanbase, one that knows his back catalog hits, like “Kute”, “Kicker”, and “Bug”, as much as if not more than hyped Rocket and House of Sugar singles, like “Bobby” and “Gretel”. Backed by a band that knows when to be loose and when to tighten up--and the instrumental chops to do so--Alex G was better than he was a Pitchfork three years ago. He still sings through his teeth, making it especially hard to hear him on louder tunes such as “Brick”. But when the honesty of his vocals combines with the dreamy guitars of “Southern Sky” and circular melodies of “Near”, it’s pure bliss. 

HEALTH

The formula for the LA industrial noise band has pretty much always been Jake Duzsik’s soft vocals contrasting John Famiglietti’s screeching bass and pedals and BJ Miller’s mammoth drums. Both in 2018 and Sunday at Riot Fest, the heat affected Famiglietti’s pedals, which were nonetheless obscured by tarp. Or so HEALTH claimed: You wouldn’t know the difference given how much their sound envelops your whole body during one of their live sets. Since their previous appearance at the festival, the prolific band has released two new records on Loma Vista, Vol. 4: Slaves of Fear and collaboration record Disco4: Part 1. Songs from those records occupied half of their excellent set, including battering opener “GOD BOTHERER”, “BODY/PRISON”, and “THE MESSAGE”. It was so wonderfully loud it drowned out K.Flay’s sound check drummer, thank the lord.

Thursday

Last time Thursday played Riot Fest, Geoff Rickly was battling heroin addiction, something he talked about during the band’s triumphant late afternoon set on Sunday. He mentioned the kindness of the late, great Riley Gale of Power Trip in extending a helping hand when he was down and extended his love to anybody in the crowd or even the world at large going through something similar. To say that this set was life-affirming would be an understatement; after 636 days of no shows, Rickly was at his most passionate. He introduced “Signals Over The Air” as a song the band “wrote about men beating up on women in the pit,” that a record exec at the time told them that it wouldn’t age well because he thought--no kidding--sexism would eventually end. Rickly’s voice, suffering from sound issues last time around, simply soared during Full Collapse’s “Cross Out The Eyes”, No Devolucion’s “Fast to the End”, and two inspired covers: Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” and Texas Is The Reason’s “If It's Here When We Get Back It's Ours”. The latter the band played because TITR guitarist Norman Brannon’s actually on tour with them, though Rickly emphasized the influence the NYC post-hardcore greats had on Thursday when they first started. Never forgetting where they’ve come from, with self-deprecating humor and radical empathy, Thursday are once again a force.

Devo

Much like the B-52′s in 2019, Devo was the set this year of a 70′s/80′s absurd punk band with some radio hits that everybody knows but with a swath of die-hard fans, too. It’s safe to say both groups were satisfied. You walked around the fest all day wondering whether the folks wearing Devo hats were actual fans or doing it for the novelty. By the time the band actually took the stage after a career-spanning video of their many phases, it didn’t really matter, because it was clear the band still had it, Mark and Bob Mothersbaugh and Gerald Casale’s vocals booming throughout a massive crowd. They ripped through “Peek-a-Boo”, “Going Under”, “That’s Good”, “Girl U Want”, and “Whip It”, which caused the fans waiting for Slipknot (and presumably some Devo heads) to form a circle pit. And that was all before the first costume change. Mark passed out hats to the crowd, fully embracing converts who might have only known “Whip It”. The feverish chants of “Uncontrollable Urge” and synth freakouts of “Jocko Homo” whipped everyone into a frenzy. And the band performed the “Freedom Of Choice” theme song for the first time since the early 80′s! I had seen Devo before, opening for Arcade Fire and Dan Deacon at the United Center, but the atmosphere at Riot Fest was more appropriately ludicrous.

Flaming Lips

“The Flaming Lips are the most COVID-safe band in the world,” went the ongoing joke, as throughout the pandemic they’d give audience members bubbles for their bubbles to be able to play shows. The normally goofy and interactive band scaled back for Riot Fest. Before launching into their traditional opener “Race For The Prize”, Wayne Coyne explained that while the band is normally proud of where they come from--Oklahoma City--they’re saddened by the local government’s ignorant pandemic response and wouldn’t risk launching balloons or walking into the crowd because they might be virus spreaders coming from such an under-vaccinated area. To his and the band’s credit, they wore masks during the performance, even when singing; Coyne removed his only when outside of his bubble that had to be deflated and inflated many times and that sometimes muffled his singing voice even more than a mask. Ever the innovative band, they still put on a stellar show. Coyne autotuned his voice on “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Pt. 1″, making it another instrument filling the song’s glorious pop melodies. Less heavy on props, the band favored a glitchy, psychedelic setlist that alternated between beauty (”Flowers Of Neptune 6″, “Feeling Yourself Disintegrate”, “All We Have Is Now”) and two-drummed cacophony (“Silver Trembling Hands”, “The W.A.N.D.”). They’ll give a proper Lips show soon enough, but in the meantime, it was nice to see them not run through the motions.

Slipknot

Apart from maybe moments of Slayer, I’ve never witnessed a headliner at Riot Fest as heavy as Slipknot was. Even the minor ethereal elements present on their most recent and very good album We Are Not Your Kind, like the chorus of voices during “Unsainted”, were all but abandoned live in favor of straight up brutality. Sure, there were moments of theatricality--Corey Taylor’s menacing laugh on “Disasterpiece” and pyrotechnics in sequence with the instrumentation on “Before I Forget” and “All Out Life”--but for the most part, Slipknot was the ultimate exorcism. Taylor’s new mask, with unnaturally circular eyes, seemed like it came from a particularly uncomfortable skit from I Think You Should Leave. They bashed a baseball bat to a barrel during the pre-encore performance of “Duality”. And the songs played from tape, like the gasping-for-breath “(515)”, were designed to contrast Slipknot’s alien appearance with qualities that were uncannily human. For a band whose performances and instrumental dexterity are otherworldly--who else can pull off tempo changes over a hissing, Aphex Twin-like shuffling electronic beat on “Eyeless”--the pure seething emotion on songs like “Psychosocial” and “Wait and Bleed” shone through. Like Smashing Pumpkins, and like so many other successful Riot Fest headliners, Slipknot abandoned drama for pure, unadulterated dirt.

[jackoshadows]

It wasn’t fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother’s fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. […] It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. - Arya, AGoT

No, Arya was not jealous of Sansa. She was envious of Sansa. There is a difference here. She longed to be as beautiful as Sansa. Arya longed to do well all the things that Sansa could. She thought it unfair that Sansa had all these talents and good looks while she did not.

Arya’s envy did not exist in some kind of vacuum. It came about because Arya was seen as ‘less than’ her beautiful elder sister. Sansa could do well all the things required to be a good lady - singing, sewing, dancing - while Arya was seen as being deficient. She’s mocked for her looks and bullied as being ugly. She is constantly compared to Sansa by her mother and Septa Mordane - if you only do this, you will be as pretty as your sister. If you could only sew well, you would be as good as your sister. Arya’s envy is a result of her feelings of low self-worth - the feeling that she will never be good enough unless she is like Sansa.

“…my hair’s messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard.” Robb wouldn’t care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies. Just thinking of it made Arya try to comb her hair with her fingers, but it was all tangles and mats, and all she did was tear some out.“  - Arya, ASoS

The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister’s beauty.  - Brienne, AFfC

Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. - The Blind girl, ADwD

Arya wants all the things Sansa has because she is required to be like Sansa to have value in Westeros society and in the eyes of someone she loves - her mother.

Arya’s envy of Sansa is similar to Jon’s envy of Robb. It’s what Jon feels growing up as a bastard outcast in Winterfell seeing Robb enjoy all the privileges that he is denied because of his birth. Even as far as ADwD, Jon is envious of Robb - long after Robb is dead.

But Jon does not want to take from Robb. He does not have ill will towards Robb. He just wants what Robb has. That’s why Sansa’s accusation of Jon being jealous of Joffrey because his low birth is false.

"Poor Jon," she (Sansa) said. "He gets jealous because he's a bastard." - Arya, AGoT

Jon did not like Joffrey because Joffrey was a terrible human being. And not because he was more good looking or the future king. And just like Sansa devalues and dismisses Jon’s opinions on Joffrey because of Jon’s ‘jealousy’, Arya’s real feelings of hurt and low-self worth due to being bullied are often dismissed because she was simply being ‘jealous’ of Sansa.

And just like Jon and Robb, Arya never intends any ill will towards Sansa over this. She never hurts Sansa over this. She never verbalizes this envy to Sansa.  

And that’s why the ‘both sides are equally bad’ take on Arya and Sansa’s relationship never makes sense except to excuse and justify Sansa’s treatment of her younger sibling. Sansa actively contributes to Arya’s feelings of low self-worth by calling her ugly and mocking her looks with her bestie Jeyne Poole. Sansa sides against Arya even after seeing Joffrey attacking her with his sword. Sansa proclaims to Cersei that it is Arya who has the traitor’s blood.

The ‘both sides’ crowd use the above single passage of Arya being ‘jealous’ of Sansa as proof that Arya is equally responsible for their fractious relationship, when these are the things that Sansa thinks and says of Arya:

Arya had a way of ruining everything. - AGoT

Why couldn’t Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon’s mother had been common, or so people whispered. - Sansa, AGoT

She told herself that it had not been Joffrey’s doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya. - Sansa, AGoT

“They should have killed you instead of Lady!” - Sansa, AGoT

“She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can’t stand for anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid.”   Sansa, AGoT

Sansa threw back her head in disdain. “You? You couldn’t sew a dress fit to clean the pigsties.” Sansa, AGoT

“Send Arya away, she started it,” - Sansa, AGoT

Arya was chewing at her lip in that disgusting way she had. - Sansa, AGoT

“Hodor!” Sansa yelled. “You ought to marry Hodor, you’re just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!”  - Sansa, AGoT

“I’m not like Arya,” Sansa blurted. “She has the traitor’s blood, not me. I’m good, ask Septa Mordane, she’ll tell you” - Sansa, AGoT

Father had killed her (Lady), on account of Arya. - Sansa, ACoK

Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world’s graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went. - Sansa, ACoK

“You are the real Arya, my lady. Arya of House Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter, heir to Winterfell.” Her name, she had to know her name. “Arya Underfoot. Your sister used to call you Arya Horseface.”  - The Prince of Winterfell, ADwD

Are children who bully other kids just because they are different in terms of behavior and appearance excused because they are ‘just children’? No? Then why use this justification to excuse Sansa’s behavior towards Arya? Is the bullied child equally to blame as the bully? Do people actually say things like - “Well the bullied child is internally feeling jealous of the bully’s good looks and hence is as much to blame as the child bullying him for being ugly”.

Do people who read Hans Christian Anderson’s ‘The Ugly Duckling’ come away thinking that the ugly duckling is as responsible as the other animals who abuse him for being ugly? A book that Anderson wrote because - “Andersen himself was a tall, ugly boy with a big nose and big feet, and when he grew up with a beautiful singing voice and a passion for the theater he was cruelly teased and mocked by other children"

People suffer from low self-worth sometimes for their entire life after being bullied in child hood for their looks. Arya finds it hard to accept when others call her pretty since she’s been conditioned to accept that she’s ugly.

Is Catelyn responsible in large part for Arya’s issues with self-worth? No doubt. Did Catelyn and Septa Mordane play a part in encouraging Sansa’s behavior? No doubt. But that does not absolve Sansa’s own role in how she treated her siblings like Arya and Jon considering a person’s empathy for others often guides us towards right and wrong. Which is something important to note when Sansa is often as praised as one of the most compassionate and empathetic character of the series.

Sansa is a flawed character who mocked her sister for being ugly and was mainly responsible for the fractious relationship between the sisters and it’s wrong to blame the victim for the bully’s actions because the victim was ‘jealous’ of her bully. There’s a reason for why GRRM says this:

Sansa was the least sympathetic of the Starks in the first book; she has become more sympathetic, partly because she comes to accept responsibility for her part in her father's death.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/feature.html?tag=westeros-21&ie=UTF8&docId=49161

The reader is of course free to blame Ned, Cat, Arya, Maester Coleman etc. etc. for Sansa’s every action in the books but I doubt that was GRRM’s intentions.

[se0kie]

chapter 2: blue side marine conservation

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, eventual smut, ANGST (whoo boy)

greek gods au, poseidon!taehyung, marinebiologist!reader

tags/warnings: none!

summary: it’s difficult being a god. what with all the immortality, the decades bleeding into each other and losing every human being you come to care about. and he’s lived, or whatever it is gods do, for a very, very long time. he thinks he needs help but the fates are being the mysterious, useless hags they’ve always been. how can a conservatory and it’s passionate, fiery owner possibly help him. turns out Y/N is the only mortal he’s met who’s ready to challenge him head on. of course it’s not like she knows her new intern is the king of the sea, maker of horses, the earthshaker, poseidon himself after all.

previous <> next ; series masterlist

It’s been a while since Taehyung stepped foot in Asia, let alone South Korea. He’d been way too busy with the sulking and the important immortal stuff, you know?

Right now he was in, what he knew to be, Hamdeok beach.

The soft, white sand under his feet reminded him of the countless days he’d spent walking along the shores in his lifetime. The soft lull of the waves crashing into each other and the hum of people talking brought him unexpected peace and clarity.

He had underestimated the beauty of the mortal world. Olympus and his kingdom in the ocean, the only two places he really spent time at, were beautiful alright. But it always felt impersonal, something most immortal residences felt like.

Mortal grounds always held some sort of comfort, friendly relations and the bonds formed on earth graced the lands with such energy that it always felt like you were somewhere familiar.

Taehyung was pulled out of his observations as he once again reminded himself that he wasn’t here to mingle with humans or write poems about beaches (although he really, really wouldn’t mind doing the latter).

He shifted from one foot to the other as he yet again, for like the tenth time that hour, took in the exterior of the short and wide building.

It was a 3 storey structure with smooth, white walls. Thin, elegant waves of light and dark blue, about a foot or two high were painted all around the base of the building.

In smart, bold letters next to the door a plaque read ‘Blue Side Marine Conservation.’

He told himself, once again, “Just go in, idiot. What are you so nervous for? It’s not like a mortal can do anything to affect you.”

He sighed and then groaned. Saying out loud, “Don’t be like Hades, just get your butt in there. There’s nothing to be so anxious about!”

He stepped foward towards the white door, lifting his fist up to knock when the door opened suddenly, startling him as he let out a shriek much too high pitched to belong to a millenia old god.

The short woman that stood in front of him was wearing an expression fiery enough to melt the glaciers. Her brown hair was short and spiky and disheveled, falling into her big brown eyes.

“Are you Kim Taehyung?” she spoke with a tone that made him want to say no and run for the hills.

“Uh...yes? That would be me.” he squeaked. Eyes wide and only slightly scared.

This woman reminded him of Hera if she was 5’4 and less murderous. Actually no, scratch that, they both looked equal amounts murderous.

“Well Mister you’re an hour late. Where have you been dallying? It’s been the busiest morning we’ve had in four years and of all days you find exactly this one to be late?!” she shrieked, furious and red in the face.

The shock on Taehyung’s face would’ve been comical if only he wasn’t calculating if this woman was sane or entirely cuckoo. He finally found his voice to stammer out an unconvincing, “S-sorry?”

She rushed to say, “We’ve had sightings of green sea turtles that very well may be returning to shore for nesting. For the first time in 20 years they’ve come to this part of the continent and I need all hands on deck to make sure each and every turtle and it’s egg makes it back into the ocean safe and sound. You hear me, intern?!”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” Taehyung squeaked with a hasty salute in response to the overwhelming information, while the short woman’s face looked dangerously close to bursting with how red it had gotten.

She blew out a gush of air from her mouth to remove the strands of hair from her eyes as she took several calming breaths. She then looked up to him once again and surprisingly broke into the biggest, brightest smile the sea god had ever received.

She shook her head slowly as if admonishing herself and said, in a completely different air, “I’m so, so sorry. It’s just been extremely stressful and this is the most delicate project we’ve encountered since we opened and I took all my nervousness out on you.”

She looked so sincere and genuine and somehow she had taken Taehyung’s hands into her own while apologizing and, oh god why was his heart beating so fast??

“Oh no, it’s alright I understand.”

“No, really, I am sorry.”

“It’s okay, seriously. I get it, nestings are delicate processes and it’s pretty much a whole bunch of things to oversee. I totally get why you would freak out. You needed the intern on hand and I was late.” He said with a squeeze, “Don’t apologise.”

She smiled at him once again and Taehyung knew the colour of his face mirrored her’s.

She said, “Thank you, it’s my first opportunity to oversee any nesting. Let alone one of green sea turtles returning after so many years.”

Taehyung nodded in response as she stepped back into the building and gestured at him to follow her.

“It’s not really that impressive but uh, here it is. Blue Side Marine Conservation.” she said as spread her arms wide.

The interior was airy and white, what seemed to be the theme here. There were large potted plants decorating the corners, two short, grey sofas opposing each other with a glass topped coffee table between them.

A white and grey marble reception sat to the left with a young, bored looking boy resting his head on his arm as he blew a bubble.

His long, black hair falling into his face as he looked up at Taehyung and flashed him a smile, displaying his bunny teeth.

“Welcome to Blue Side, dude! I’m Jungkook.” he chirped at Taehyung from his seat as he offered him a lazy wave.

Taehyung returned his wave and answered, “I’m Taehyung, I’m supposed to be the new intern?”

“Oh yeah we’ve been expecting you, man. Welcome and whatnot.” Jungkook said. Taehyung nodded in response and turned away to look at the woman.

“So, yeah this is the ground floor. We have two more floors of labs and aquariums. Would you like a tour?” the girl said.

“Yeah sure, I’d love to look around uh...” he trailed off as he realised he still hadn’t gotten the girl’s name.

“Oh! Yeah, right, I’m Y/N! I’m- uh, We are looking forward to working with you.” she said with a smile.

“Y/N... Yes, me too.” he said softly., a smile etching onto his sharp fearures. “Can’t wait.”

taglist: @a-kookie-with-my-tae @btsxdoll

a/n: reminder that i’m not very well versed in marine science so i could be wrong in certain aspects. please remember that this is a work of fiction and inaccuracies will be present, i am trying my best to make it as realistic as possible so i appreciate any input you guys may have!

[vesperstalksclones]

Wrecker x Mando Femme OC

The Naked Truth

(18 +) explicit

So this is a gratuitous smut snippet of a Wrecker centered Bad Batch story, post Order 66. But of course, I'm writing the juicy parts first lol. I wanted to post because who knows if I'll finish it, and tumblr needs some Wrecker smut! So, following is unprotected sex, a difficult first coupling, ample fondling, and one surprisingly gentle guy, which is still pretty rough since he's built like a draft horse.... and hung like one... 😳

Quick synopsis:

(OH please pardon my lazy editing, I forgot to go spell check my Mando'a, so I kriffed up a few things 🤨)

The crew have been hiring themselves out to make $$ to fuel the Maurauder, buy supplies, etc. They take a job as armed support for a Mandalorian cell on a rather obscure outer rim planet, who have been clashing with the local crime syndicate. He meets Kessa-Lan, a stoic female warrior with a knack for explosives and an excellent rifleman. Of course our big goofy boy is smitten instantly, but her voice! Its all husky and full of pepper (think like Demi Moore) and he is going to die from loving it. But.. she refuses to take her helmet or armor off in his presence, but not because of strict code; Kessa was injured badly several years ago when her village was attacked by several of the crime family's enforcers. The burns resulted in the loss of her right arm, and her neck, shoulder, and face on the right side are terribly scarred. She has no ear on that side, and half her face is covered by cybernetic skin, with a replacement eye as well. She grows her hair in to thick braids, woven with beads and mementos, so that the locks can hide some of the disfigurement. She is ashamed and afraid that he wouldn't be so enamored if he saw her properly. So some stuff happens… pew pew, boom, pew, etc,etc. Wrecker ends up captured by the crime syndicate's local cell, with a few of Kessa's Vode, and he recognizes their sigil as the group who destroyed Kessa's village and harmed her so terribly. He manages to trick them into bringing him to a meeting hall alone, so they don't use the others as human shields to keep him in check. He taunts the leader in to a one on one fight (they think he's heavily sedated) and when they've uncuffed him, he visits some terrible hell on the three odd dozen elites, but suffers serious injuries in the process. The Bad Batch finds him and rushes off planet to an old friend with a bacta tank and the medical skills to save him. Upon returning, the Batch proceeds to obliterate the criminals and Wrecker seeks out his love interest, hoping she is at least a little bit happy to see him.

 

       OOOOO Here's the good stuff OOOOO

Wrecker Circled her silently, looking her up and down with a quiet intensity. A few times he stilled, and she felt the calloused pads of his fingers ghost over a scar or a patch of freckles. Stopping behind her, his hands came to rest on her shoulders, thumbs caressing for a moment before they slid to her wrists and gently lifted her arms to the air. She felt him shift, no doubt examining them as he had done the rest of her, running his fingers along the lengths, assessing the differences between the one, flesh and bone, and the other, cold cybernetics. 

"Beautiful." He whispered so low she could barely make out the word.

"Hmmm?" 

"Beautiful, Mesh'la." He reached for her wrists again, raising her arms higher and positioning them around his neck, "You're a dream come to life." 

She leaned against him as his lips brushed her undamaged shoulder, nibbling a gentle path towards her neck. 

Retracing the path along her arms, he splayed his fingers wide and his great hands smoothed along her sides and over her hips, climbing up over her abdomen and ribs in slow circuits. When his lips reached her cheek, she turned her face, catching them with her own, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her torso, pulling her as flush against him as he could manage. He sighed into her mouth, kissing and licking at her softly. 

For a moment Kessa was able to appreciate that no matter how brutally strong this behemoth may be, he had an inherently gentle heart. She had half expected to be flung down and ravaged by Wrecker the moment she bared her skin to him, as eagerly as he had flirted with her and as hungry as his eyes always were. She certainly hadn't expected this sensual caressing as he savored her in his arms. Despite the tautness of every muscle she could feel against her back, and the slight tremor in his hands, he held himself quiet and steady.

He broke away from her, turning his gaze back down her body, thoroughly enjoying the view. He slumped backwards, leaning against the crude table, hands full of her breasts as he arched her against him, and she hissed as he toyed with the dark peaks of her nipples. He experimented for a few moments, weighing her in his hands, varying the force of his grasp, rolling and pinching at the buds until he found just the right movement to make her whimper.

"That's right Sugar, sing for me so I know what you like…." he growled low in her ear, his voice growing impossibly deeper. One of his massive paws had crept to the juncture of her thighs, and he traced the crease thoughtfully. "Spread your legs, Dala. I want to touch you". 

She obliged, wiggling her hips as she did so, feeling his hard member ride up against the small of her back. Wrecker hummed in appreciation, as his fingers crept into her warmth and, finding her slick and eager for him, dove right in. Seeking out the bundle of nerves at the front, he stroked with two fingers, trapping the delicate flesh and sending marvelous tingling sensations through her belly. 

"Remember… my tongue was here before…" he whispered, ".. but you hid the rest of you then, all tucked away in that armor and that helmet… killed me to have to listen to you through a moderator." The two fingers flexed and curled, and then plunged inside her, and she clamped around them with a ragged moan, her jaw dropping open from the sudden intrusion. " Kriffing hell! That's nice!" he gasped into her neck.

He thrust into her eagerly, dragging his thumb across her clit each time, spurred along by Kessa's mewls and cries. 

"Fuck! That voice ad'ika! Just listening t'ya could finish me!" He scraped his teeth along her jaw, and she could feel him trembling against her, his breath warm and moist at her ear. "So many times, all I could think was what you'll sound like when you take my cock."

She squirmed, rocking her hips and riding his hand. "Ah.. Wrecker! I want you inside me cy'aire, please!"

"Not yet, doll. Ladies first, then we'll see what happens." He couldn't ignore the burst of sensation brought on by her plea, begging for him to stuff himself between her thighs, and he couldn't help but to roll his hips against her, finding small satisfaction in rutting against her lower back.

"So tight, love. I'm giving you another…" he ground out hoarsely, before adding a third thick finger to her besh, groaning in satisfaction as she arched against him with a sob. "I'm so 'fraid I'll hurt you." 

He felt her relax after a few thrusts, her slick running down the back of his hand. Her sounds were growing more frantic, and she was moving against him with purpose… "Are you there Sugar? Give it to me doll, come for me…let it go..." he pleaded gently.

She pulled his hand roughly to her breast, and he massaged and plucked at her roughly, causing Kessa to yelp and tighten around his knuckles. He stroked her only a few more times before she stiffened and shuddered, giving a broken cry. Wrecker watched in awe as the climax washed over her features, feeling her body contract around his fingers, her nails scraping at his shoulders. He could have wept at the sight, her lashes fanned over her dark cheek… the slight chatter of her teeth as her head lolled against his shoulder.. She drew out such profound feelings in him, his beautiful, pepper voiced, warrior goddess… that is if he wasn't so insanely desperate to pound her 'til her bones rattled.

Chest heaving, Kessa made to move away and he withdrew carefully. She turned and plastered herself against his chest, beaming up at him, one soul-less cybernetic eye blazing red, the other an explosion of green and gold and brown, a swirl of starlit colors as stunning as the glowing gas nebulae he had seen in his travels. 

 "Now!" She gasped, breathless still, "I want you on top of me!"

"Hmmmm.. mesh'la I don't dare."

Her eyes widened in confusion.

"Kess'ika, there isn't a soft surface anywhere in here; I'd beat you to hell darlin. I know my strength and I know how stupid I'm gonna get." 

He rose from where he leaned against the rough work table, considering it carefully.

"But this'll do, I'll break this instead!" He shoved it back hard against the wall with a soft chuckle and turned to reach for her. She came to him eagerly, and he scooped her up, grinding her against  him a few times with a satisfied groan, and he deposited her on the surface. 

"You're ready for me?" He asked, drawing himself close between her legs.

"Um-hmm. Wrecker, take this off." She demanded gently, tugging at the skin tight black shirt he wore. He obligingly peeled it upwards and felt her hands on his skin before it cleared his shoulders. Flinging the garment away he admired the look on Kessa's face as she explored his chest and abdomen. 

"These look terrible." She whispered, her fingers ghosting over the newly healed blaster wounds. 

He gently butted his head against hers. "They're worth it if it means you sleep better at night." He grinned as he kissed her; she framed his face with her hands, deepening the kiss, and when he opened for her, Kessa's tongue brushed over his, making him see stars. 

He jerked his trousers down his thighs and pressed her backwards upon the bench. Wrecker grasped her knees, spreading her wide before him and rolled himself against her, gliding his rigid cock through her wetness for good measure. She pushed up on her elbows, watching him thoroughly wet himself, before fisting his member and aligning himself with her opening.

Seven hells, he was big, well proportionally correct anyway for a man the size of a mountain, and she realized his purpose in using his fingers first... it would have been difficult without some preparation. He pushed against her, gritting his teeth with strain. Her jaw fell slack as he stretched her, his rounded head easing its way in. 

"Is this alright cy'aire?" He hissed. "Hurts?"

He paused, shaking against her as he struggled with his overtaxed libido. 

"Yes, love, I'm alright," she held his gaze, wanting him to see clearly that she wasn't lying for his benefit. She groped for his hands where they held her hips tightly, clinging to them for stability. He continued to push in to her, pausing to withdraw and return to claim another inch of her space. Her muscles burned as she took him, but it wasn't unbearable and each gentle motion felt better than the last. 

"Give me all of you, Wrecker. I'm ready," She gasped. 

He watched her for a moment, sweat beading on his forehead from the tension, and then flexed his ass and plunged forward, landing flush against her thighs and she wailed under him.

"Fuck! Kessa, I'm sorry! I'll stop…" 

"No! Wrecker don't you dare!" She dug her nails into his wrists. "Just hold still a moment." She drew a deep breath willing her protesting muscles to relax, as he gently kneaded her hips.

"Kessa, we don't have to do this, love..."

"I'm ok cy'aire. It's just.. it's been a long, long time, and you're… well… you!" She gave a tug at both arms. 

"Again, just start slowly, I was made for this, you know."

"To be mated by a bantha??"

She burst out laughing, and his eyes rolled back in his head from the contractions it caused around his cock. 

"Jengo's bones woman! Kriffing HELL that feels amazing!"

"You said before you liked my voice enough to get off on it," She quipped, a coy look settling on her face.

"No doubt."

He stooped and kissed her hungrily, before bracing his palms on the table and tentatively moved his hips against her. Gradually he withdrew and then returned, filling her to bursting. She felt him drag against the most deliciously sensitive places, and each one sent hot electricity up her spine. Catching his honey brown eyes, she nodded and he quickened his movements, breathing raggedly from the sensations. 

"Kessa… " he uttered her name again and again, like a prayer. " Oh… Kessa... Gods… you feel so good, woman.. I can't…  I can't believe .. you let me … touch you like this!" Wrecker gasped, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "Wanted you for so damn long. Want you for myself… keep you…  My woman.."

"You'd better ruin every other cock for me then" she replied, the words turning in to breathy moans. 

With a sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl, he roughly gathered her up in his arms, his kiss pressing her into the table, his thighs slamming forward harshly against the wooden edges - and they were vaguely aware of the sound of something breaking. She mewled into his mouth, clawing at his back and neck, desperate to pull him closer than he already was. 

"Are you going to come on my cock, love?" He growled. She couldn't do much more than whimper. "Come on mesh'la, scream for me. Wanna feel you!" He reared up, cradling her hips in an iron grip as he rammed into her, feral noises curling from deep within his chest. Kessa dug her nails against the table, watching his member disappear within her again and again, shining with her slick. She knew that she only ever wanted him. No other man should ever have her this way. 

"Wrecker… I love you cy'aire, only you.. I'm yours however you want me.." she cried as her tension built, her release looming. "Come inside me cy'aire, I want you to…" something shattered within her and her climax washed over her. The world turned upside-down and the stars exploded in her eyes, and she screamed, just like he'd asked..

Seeing Kessa coming undone beneath him, her hot tight muscles contracting around him proved his undoing. A hard thrust, and another, and the third had him surging into her, her cries ringing in his ears; a more beautiful sound he had never heard, and his own climax claimed him, drawing blackness across his eyes. 

He didn't quite faint; he was still sailing on the ripples of the best orgasm he had ever had, and his vision slowly came to focus. Kessa was watching him with a look of immense satisfaction, like a proud loth-cat who had just eaten the proverbial song bird.. He was trembling still, with the occasional harsh shudder as she continued still to tighten and relax against his softening cock. 

He reached for her chin. "Kessa, did I hurt you sweetheart?"

"Yes." She groaned. "It was amazing. Do it again."

He wasn't quite sure what to make of that, when she grabbed his neck and pulled him down for a wet kiss.

 "I meant what I said. Wrec."

He grinned crookedly and kissed her back. "We need to find a proper bed darlin'. 

Pretty sure this pic is by Mollo101; whose Star Wars art is AMAZING!! Sorry so dark and melancholy, but there is a lack of Wrecker fanart out there!

[multifandomwriter]

Swooning (John Laurens x (y/n) Washington)

Being a Washington seems like it would be fun, I suppose. A life living in luxury, party's galore, and of course, the money for make-up. I mean, it may seem pretty extravagant to have your father as the president. But, in reality, it's not. You have to tend to different things like picking out dresses, helping mother bake, trying to learn at least one thing in this place known as the schoolhouse. You also have to learn how to be prim-and-proper. Even on the days where you just want to act like a pig and roll around in the dirt and mud like the boys did when they were younger before they were mature.

I believe my favorite part about it is the literature. You see, my dream is to become an author. An author of what? Well, I don't know quite yet. But, just sitting under an apple tree, enjoying the green grass that tickled my feet, snacking on the fruit and watching the sun arise with the beautiful colors of orange and pink gives me peace in the early mornings so I could have a little calmness throughout the day. Like today.

"(y/n)? Are you almost ready?" my Mother, Martha Washington, asked me from her bedroom. She must've been getting ready for the party we were going to, as was I. It was a celebration called the Winter's Ball.

"Yes mother," I responded, purposefully making it sound as if I was irritated, which I was. She'd asked me the same question not even two minutes ago.

"Watch your tone, missy," said Mother in a playful tone. I laughed, and heard footsteps heading toward my room. It was my Father.

"Well, don't you look pretty?" he smiled, adjusting the lapels on his uniform.

"I guess?" I shrugged, rearranging my own clothing: a beige colored medieval dress, the sleeves long and wide, the outfit finished with a inky black half corset. I also wore a golden necklace littered with diamonds and flats. Red ones at that.

"Oh wow," said my Mother, who'd now joined us. "You'll be getting lots of male attention, I'll tell you that."

"Martha!" exclaimed my Father. "Don't say such foul things!"

"Sometimes honesty can be brutal, darling," Mother waved him off, sauntering over to me. Her hands reached up to my (h/c), silky hair, delicately touching the tight braids I'd twisted together on my own. There was about 4 small ones were intertwined with my hair that wasn't interlaced. "Now, shall we go?"

"We shall. Ladies first, as always," my Father smiled, gesturing to the door way, politely letting them go first.

"Are we going in the carriage?" I asked, slipping on the rings I had in my hand. One was black and the other silver.

"But of course!" said Father excitedly. "Look outside." So, I did, smiling at the blue beauty on the street, a male coach on the high seat attached, the horses both a smooth white, not spec of dirt as far as I could tell from there.

"Well then, let's go! I'd like to get to this Winter's Ball!" I exclaimed.

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The ride to the rather big light yellow house was boring. As much as I love nature, like I've stated previously, it was quite dull compared to a ball. We arrived, the coach hopping down from his perch, tying the horses to a rogue fence that was meant to hold them temporarily until he let us off. Then he'd go to the stables behind the house. How do I know this so well? This wasn't my first rodeo. I've ridden once or twice.

The coach strolled over to our doors, quickly opening them and releasing the metal stairs for us to get down. He first helped Mother, then Father, and finally me. I didn't mind this of course. I was never one to follow to rules, anyway. As I walked down the path, people turned, making me a bit self-conscious. I moved a stray piece of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. I felt all eyes on me, the men scanning me up and down. Men I didn't know, and I didn't care to either.

Walking in, I heard a voice yell my name. "(y/n)!" It was Eliza Schuyler. More or less one of the richest family names in New York.

"Eliza!" I yelled excitedly back to my best friend. "How are you? I haven't seen you since last Christmas."

"I know. It's been awfully painful," Eliza hugged me. "I've been good. You?" My eyes accidentally roamed the room, landing on someone. And was he handsome.

"I've been... fine. Holy crap, who is that?" I murmured from the side of my mouth to the woman in front of me, not taking my eyes off the man.

"Oh him? That's John Laurens. He's one of the many in Hamilton's friend group, I presume. He talks to them all the time." I slowly nodded, scanning his features. From there, I could see the brown freckles that contrasted with his ivory skin. He must've been a soldier, for he had his uniform on just like my Father had his. His brown curly hair was tied up in a bun, and his laugh felt like the sound of music to my ears.

"You're flushed," acknowledged Angelica Schuyler, Eliza's older sister. "You do know that, right?"

"Am I?" I turned to her abruptly. "Dang it."

"I don't think he minds," said Eliza, who smirked.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because he's coming over right now," said Angelica.

"What?!" I whisper-yelled to both sisters. My eyes glanced to John, who was walking over to right then. "Oh dear God."

"Good luck~" Angelica dragged out, pulling Eliza away. I gulped, seeing the man I felt like I would swoon over any second approach me.

"Hi," he smiled, his pearly whites shinning bright in the light. "I'm John Laurens. You are?"

"Umm," I stumbled over my words. I couldn't keep my eyes off him. "(y-y/n). Yeah, yeah. That's my name."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl," said John, winking at me. I felt myself flush even more.

"Aw t-thanks."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," he said. "Wanna dance?" Laurens stuck out a hand.

"Sure," I said, taking his in mine. He pulled me along, eyes looking to his friends who whistled. John laughed, twirling me into his grasp. "Have I told you you look nice tonight?"

"No."

"Well then, you look nice tonight."

"You do, too," I smiled, letting one of his hands fall to my waist.

"So, what's your last name?"

"Getting to second base already?"

"No," he laughed. "You just didn't tell me your last name."

"Washington. (y/n) Washington."

"Ooo, you're the big guys daughter."

"You know what, Laurens?"

"What, Washington?" he fired back. I blushed at the way he said my last name. Oh, tonight would be a fun night, wouldn't it?