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always-just-red · 3 months ago

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Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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darkmatilda · 16 days ago

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𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer had heard rumors that a few female students secretly had a crush on him, but he always dismissed it as a joke and never intended to engage in any kind of relationship with them. that is, until a certain bright and quiet one caught his attention.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: professor reid x student!female reader, spence's pov only, uni looks like a f1ucking hogwart just for the vibe, reader having some daddy issues and revealing some past experiences, father's death anniversary, trauma dumping actually but it's not a self-insert story i just really got into it lol, age gap, fingering, insane sexual tension during their convos, kinda socially awkward reader who's also an irony queen from time to time, talking, lots of talking blah blah

𝐚/𝐧: a special dedication to my beloved girlies who feel that if they ever crossed paths with spencer reid they’d be too stupid to talk to him. it's also a request i got from one of you <3 hope you'll enjoy it

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.9k

Dr. Reid didn’t notice her right away.

Alright, fine. Dr. Reid did notice her. His analytical mind placed great importance on everything happening around him. He observed the faces of his students, instantly committing their names to memory—he wanted to know who attended his lectures. A more accurate statement would be that, at first, he didn’t pay her any special attention.

She struck him as quiet. And she was quiet. Silent and observant—that was the impression he had of her. When he formed that opinion, he wasn’t thinking about her yet. While reading, he didn’t wonder whether the book he had chosen would appeal to her, nor did he consider which aspects of it might draw her into the depths of discussion, making her usually tightly pressed lips come alive with unceasing words. Arriving at the university with a briefcase in hand, his coat tightly wrapped around him, he didn’t fixate on the ever-thickening layer of snow or brush its delicate flakes from his hair. His mind was entirely absorbed by thoughts of whether her clothing was suited to the weather and if she might be cold. Most importantly, when he formed that opinion, his gaze, upon entering the lecture hall, didn’t immediately begin searching for her face—unassuming and half-hidden among the others—before he’d even greeted the rest of the students.

Because when he formed that opinion, she was just a student, like all the others.

His lectures with her group were held twice a week, at a time when everything outside the window slowly began to gray, and they usually ended with a sense of relief for all the students, as another day of study came to a close. Reid always stayed a moment longer in the room, ready to answer any lingering questions or offer help with any issues. These questions often repeated. Sometimes, when he felt particularly tired, he didn’t have to exert much effort in his responses. That didn’t mean, of course, that he was ignorant. It was simply that his lips seemed to know the right words; he didn’t need to fully wake up or concentrate.

It was the same that late November afternoon. She approached slowly, almost shyly, to his desk, waiting for the moment when everyone else would finally disappear through the door. As if she were embarrassed that her question might reach unwanted ears. He lifted his gaze to her, immediately noticing her retreat and uncertainty, and smiled gently, encouragingly, to embolden her. And the question she asked had the effect of caffeine injected directly into his veins.

His brain immediately sprang into action, so absorbed and genuinely intrigued. Surprised, even. He answered her question, of course, but when he felt the penetrating, eager gaze of her eyes on him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything he said was inadequate and couldn’t satisfy her curiosity. He even became somewhat stressed and lost his train of thought. A slight hint of amusement stretched her lips, but, luckily for him, she ignored it, sparing him any embarrassment. They discussed a topic unusually connected to the lecture, and he hadn’t felt so intellectually engaged in a long time, though it lasted only a quarter of an hour. Afterward, she disappeared through the door like everyone else, thanking him for the answer before she left.

He didn’t hide the fact that his thoughts returned to that conversation. And when, after another lecture, she approached him again in that same characteristic manner, he hoped she would pick up where they left off. That they would continue their discussion exactly at that interrupted point. But her question was about something else, something equally fascinating, and at that moment, in that instant, he completely erased everything from his mind that had come before, fully absorbed in what they were now discussing.

Slowly, it all stopped being solely about criminology lectures and started touching on every possible tangent, from literature to more mundane matters, like current events at the university. But no matter what they were talking about, he approached it with the same level of engagement. He was pleased that it had become their little ritual.

Being, let’s not shy away from the word, a genius, meant that it was hard for him to find someone on the same intellectual level. And he didn’t say this with disdain for others, absolutely not. Spencer always enjoyed those little chats with others, truly cherished the time spent with his close ones. He just sometimes needed that kind of intellectual stimulation.

With the second week of December, something changed.

It was probably something about her general mood. Well, this month was often exceptionally depressing for a large portion of the population, but it didn’t seem like that was the issue. She had once mentioned to him that she really valued winter.

“Really?” he asked then, resting one hand on the desk. Usually, their conversations followed the typical, unspoken arrangement of their bodies in relation to each other. He, more relaxed, often prone to gestures, and she, much less expressive. Her hip didn’t tilt to either side, she maintained a straight posture, and liked to hold something in her hands—like a notebook. When she had nothing, her fingers gently brushed the edge of the desk. Spencer couldn’t help but constantly lower his gaze to her hands and analyze their subtle movements. When he spoke, they remained still, frozen in focus. When she spoke, they would move in fluid, wave-like motions to the sides. He tried not to stare too much, as he was sure that if she caught him, she’d stop. But he liked those moments of uncontrolled naturalness in her. “What do you like about it so much?”

Her facial expressions were fascinating. Complex, like the world depicted in some novel. At the same time, difficult to decipher; sometimes, he had to guess what some small gestures meant. She blinked rarely, and when she did it more often than usual, it seemed to substitute for a shrug or uncertainty.

“I think it’s mostly how short the days are. When one of them turns out to be a failure, you don’t have to wait long until the new one begins.”

“When a day feels like a failure, you don’t have to write it off completely. Maybe sometimes it’s worth trying to fix it, at any moment you find yourself in.”

“That’s very wise advice, professor. But not for me,” she scoffed. “When something goes wrong, I’d rather start over right away than linger in that bad streak. Even when I make a mistake while taking notes, I...”

“You tear the page out and start writing on a clean one,” he blurted out the end of the sentence, his back straightening slightly when he realized he had said it out loud.

He had noticed how she did that, not once or twice. However, he was slightly embarrassed by the fact that he had admitted to staring at her during lectures. And he didn’t do it on purpose! Most of all, not obsessively. It just happened that the longer they knew each other, the more their private conversations continued, the more often his gaze drifted toward her. Sometimes, while analyzing a topic, he was so curious about what she thought, specifically what she thought, that he simply couldn’t stop himself… although usually, he still couldn’t read much from her face.

At his observation, her hand resting on the edge of the desk froze.

“Exactly,” she admitted, giving him a gentle smile. He looked at her more closely then, noticing the slight radiance on her face. That expression suited her. It wasn’t as if she always wore a completely serious or sad face. More often, though, she hid her emotions instead of eagerly presenting every little feeling she had. She cleared her throat, and Spencer immediately dropped his gaze. “I hope the sound of tearing paper doesn’t throw you off rhythm.”

“Of course not,” he reassured her quickly. “Don’t even worry about it. The only thing that throws me off rhythm is conversations.”

“That doesn’t happen often, though,” she replied. “I mean, others don’t talk to each other when you’re speaking. It’s completely different in other classes.”

This comment surprised him immensely; he frowned and asked what she meant by it.

"Maybe it's just my observation," she noted at the start. "Maybe it's about the way you speak—you’re... you're very engaged in the topic, and listening to you is so pleasant that others don't feel the need to make silly remarks or interrupt. Or maybe..." She suddenly stopped, a tension flickered across her face, as if she desperately wanted to pull back from what she was about to say.

"Or maybe...?" He couldn't stop himself, so curious to hear the end of the sentence. Then he noticed her discomfort, her gaze fixed on the desk, embarrassment washing over her. His curiosity wasn’t worth making her feel that way, and he quickly scolded himself. "It's fine, you don't have to continue..."

"Or maybe I just think that others are quieter because of how focused I am," she blurted out in one breath, pressing her lips together in embarrassment. Spencer felt an unidentified shift in the rhythm of his heart, beating against his chest. "On you. On the lecture, of course."

"On the lecture," he repeated, his voice strangely husky. He swallowed, trying to clear it, struggling to find the right words. "I'm... I'm really glad that you find everything I say so interesting."

"Of course I do," she replied carefully. "Criminology is my passion, and it's the field I want to explore as deeply as I can. And you're a huge authority to me. Like, I’m sure, to all the other students too," she added hastily.

As December progressed, their conversations became a bit less lively and shorter. Or maybe it was just some mistaken impression of his? Maybe he had grown to like them so much and looked forward to them so eagerly that no matter how long they lasted, it would never be enough for him? He felt strange with such a thought and immediately reprimanded himself. He shouldn't be placing so much importance on his meetings with his student.

She shouldn’t occupy his thoughts as much as she did.

Brilliant, now he was starting to pin all the blame on her.

Pathetic.

Looking back, that day was exceptionally bright. Snowflakes fell relentlessly from the sky, twirling in a dance-like motion and tracing delicate patterns in the air. A thick layer of snow on the windowsills cast a white glow across the room and seemed to shield the interior from the intrusion of any potential darkness.

Spencer had promised himself he wouldn’t look at her the moment he walked into the room. And yet, he did. Though she might have seemed like a loner, she had a small circle of friends—three, to be precise. A quiet girl, a guy, and, finally, another girl who was their complete opposite, always seeming to voice the thoughts of their entire group aloud.

Before his arrival, they seemed to be discussing something. She was only half-listening, her eyes fixed on the book she was reading. When she did respond, which was rare, her lips barely parted. Meanwhile, as she turned the pages, her hands gripped them so tightly it looked as if she might tear them apart.

He mentally noted the detail, curious about what kind of book could evoke such emotions in her. He desperately needed to know the title. Or maybe it wasn’t about the book at all? It didn’t matter. He had to find out anyway.

Reid couldn’t make out the writing on the cover—simple and black, like some kind of journal. Throughout the entire lecture, it lay closed right under her nose. Craning his neck and trying to identify it he probably looked like a total idiot. It was only after some time that he reminded himself, sobered by the thought that, based on what she had once told him—and assuming it had been a sincere admission—he was, in some way, an authority figure to these students. He ought to focus on passing on as much of his knowledge to them as possible in return.

When the class finally came to an end, everyone began heading for the exit. She usually packed her things at a very slow pace, making sure to be the last one in the room, apart from him. She wasn’t doing anything wrong; she had the right to stay and talk to her professor, but she still approached it with some caution. Maybe she didn’t want to raise the curiosity of her friends? In any case, that day she didn’t slow down as she made her way to his desk. She followed the other figures toward the exit, arm in arm with a friend who was saying something to her. Spencer was surprised to notice that she didn’t turn toward him even once.

Before he could understand what she was doing, he called her name. Loudly.

She wasn’t the only one who turned around, but she was the only one who stayed. He tried hard to read the expression on her face. She seemed a little distracted, her gaze moving from the door to him, and he began to suspect that maybe she had simply forgotten about their brief conversations. He deeply hoped that was the case. Not that she had any problems, or that he had said something she didn’t like…

“Yeah?” she asked, tightly holding a thick book against her chest. He still hadn’t figured out which one, and it still intrigued him. “Do you want to talk about something, professor?”

Reid suddenly realized in panic that he hadn’t prepared any topic. He had called her over spontaneously, not even really knowing why. Usually, it was her who approached him with a question, and the conversation would flow on its own… but the weight of her gaze left him no time to think.

"Well..." he began, nervously swallowing and feeling like a small, pathetic boy. "Actually, no... actually, I just wanted to know... if you had any questions. About the lecture, I mean."

He leaned one hand on the desk, hoping he didn’t look as deeply embarrassed as he felt. What the hell was happening to him?

"I don't have any," she replied. Spencer almost sighed in disappointment, barely managing to stop himself. She had been standing very close to the closed door, turning toward it as if making sure no one was behind it. Then, suddenly, she timidly stepped closer to him. "To be honest, I wasn't really focused today. I guess... it’s just not my day."

His brows furrowed in brief concern.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you need me to explain something in more detail? It's... really no trouble for me, and I don’t want you to fall behind."

"Please don't worry about it, professor," she assured him. Her fingers tightened around the book she was holding, and the sigh that escaped her lips carried with it a small... smile? "Thank you for that, but I'll just take notes from someone and catch up on my own. I don't want to take up your time..."

"It's really no trouble..."

"...And by the way... I don't feel too well. My focus is nonexistent so it wouldn’t make much sense."

"Alright," he gave in, and for a moment, they both fell silent. Looking at her face, he tried to find any signs of illness, a developing cold, or maybe the flu. She did look a bit pale. She shifted from foot to foot, and he realized he had been staring at her and quickly shook his head. "Sorry for holding you up. You should go and try to rest. Have…have something warm to drink. It will do you good."

She wasn’t gazing longingly at the door, impatient with his words and eager to leave, as he had thought she would. In fact... she seemed to be looking at him with a hint of hesitation.

"It’s not that... I can’t focus at all," she began. "It’s just that more complicated topics can’t settle in my mind. Related to studying, mostly. But that doesn’t mean I want to shut myself off completely. Honestly, I think I could use a bit of conversation..." A sudden laugh escaped her lips. "Sorry, really. I didn’t mean to bother you with... nonsense. I should probably talk to a friend, not a professor, if I just wanted to chat..."

She flinched, as if about to turn and leave—almost run away. Spencer straightened abruptly, wanting to stop her.

“No, wait—don’t go. You can talk to me. What is it? Is something bothering you?”

Her gaze wandered aimlessly around the room for a moment before she finally shook her head.

"Nothing specific. Stress, the end of the semester, you know. Everyone’s only talking about that, and I just want to think about something else for a moment. Anything."

"I completely understand," Reid admitted. Leaning back against the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest, he studied her more intently. A flicker of doubt sparked within him—was it really just that? Something inside him tugged, eager to uncover everything weighing on her mind and causing such a somber mood. But he knew her well enough by now to realize that a direct question would only make her retreat.

He paused, considering what he would want to talk about if he needed to distract himself from a troubling thought.

"Does... does literature fall under those complicated topics you can’t quite settle in your mind?"

She dropped her head with a sudden laugh. A fleeting sense of satisfaction washed over him, as if he’d just achieved some long-term goal. Odd, but pleasant.

“No,” she replied. “Literature is actually a topic I could talk about even in the middle of the night, freshly woken from sleep. In theory, at least. In practice, I’d probably start mixing up names so much you wouldn’t even know which work I was referring to. I mean, they wouldn’t. The person who woke me up wouldn’t know—I didn’t mean you specifically…”

This time, it was him who started laughing as she, embarrassed, tried to untangle herself from her own words.

"I got the general message."

"Thank God. You know, I've been thinking lately that if I just kept my mouth shut every time I said something stupid, I’d save myself from a ton—no, an enormous amount of incredibly awkward social situations."

It amused him that she had pointed out a problem he himself often dealt with. He opened his mouth to say something, but almost immediately had to close it again. He nearly blurted out that he found all her moments of embarrassment genuinely endearing and didn’t want her to hold back from speaking around him just out of fear of self-embarrassment.

Before he could even decide if it was the appropriate thing to say, she spoke again.

“So… why did you ask about literature?”

He was so lost in thought that for a brief moment, he almost forgot that he had even brought up the topic. It wasn’t until his gaze once again landed on the book she was holding that he snapped back to reality.

“I spent most of the lecture wondering what you were reading,” he admitted, still standing with his back to the desk, leaning on it with his hands, trying to hide their brief, slight tremor. Maybe he had said it too directly… or perhaps it was just his usual tendency to overanalyze every word he said to her. Quickly, he added, “Because I’m sure I’ve never seen that book before. I don’t recognize the cover at all, although I know there can be different editions. What’s the author’s name?”

She gave him the name with a strange expression. Spencer furrowed his brows, but she beat him to it, speaking before he could say anything.

“That’s right, it’s my father’s book.”

Honestly intrigued, he tilted his head to the side.

"I didn’t know he was a writer. And... to be completely honest, I’ve never heard of him..."

To his surprise, she laughed. Not shyly and genuinely as before, but with a bitterness that lingered in her voice.

"It’s not that he was a writer. He just really, really wanted to be one. But no publisher was really interested in what came out of his office. Which doesn’t surprise me much. Anyway, in the end, he gave up and printed that one copy just to have something to proudly put on the shelf."

He felt that they had stepped onto some unstable ground, one that required him to tread carefully. Or perhaps even retreat if it might cause her any pain. And it seemed that it did. However, Spencer felt too concerned to pull back.

“Why are you reading his book, anyway?” he asked cautiously. Her face remained expressionless, and he wondered if she even caught the gist of his question. Most likely, she did—without a problem—but he felt an inner need to add something more, to keep the conversation flowing smoothly instead of making it feel like an interrogation. “Maybe… maybe it’s just my completely wrong assumption—correct me if I’m off—but you didn’t exactly look… like you were enjoying it much.”

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She forced herself to stay calm, forced herself to appear at ease. But it was too late—the enigmatic shield that had protected her from all sides had been cracked, and her expression turned transparent, everything behind it

"He's gone. Two years ago, in December," she admitted, her voice lacking overt despair, though tinged with the unmistakable weight of layered pain. She seemed uncomfortable sharing it—not with him as a person, but with him as her professor. "A few days before Christmas. Last year... I don’t know why, maybe just to torture myself, I started reading it. And this year, the same thing. The month started, and somehow, subconsciously... I just woke up with the book in my hands at one point. That’s... for context. Forgive me if this doesn’t interest you at all. I probably said too much…”

“No, you didn’t. Don’t think that,” he assured her, instinctively taking a step forward, closer to her, though he couldn’t quite explain why. The conversation had drifted into an unexpected territory, but this was exactly what he had wanted—to know what had been weighing on her. “At least… at least now I understand what’s been making you feel the way you do lately. I won’t keep catching myself trying to guess what’s behind it anymore. And I won’t worry so much, now that I know.”

“Worry,” she repeated immediately after him, before the echo of his previous words had a chance to dissolve into the void. Her tone was the kind used to point out someone’s grammatical slip-ups—sharp, quick, decisive. As if she simply couldn’t help herself.

Spencer froze in place, just one step away from her. Now that he was finally this close, he could have taken a proper look at the cover of the book she was holding, but suddenly, it didn’t matter at all. His focus was entirely on her—her words, her face, and the quiet weight of the troubles she carried.

He didn’t know what he should do, his hands falling limply at his sides. He imagined what it would feel like to gently touch her cheek—he could do it, all it would take was moving his hand forward. That was all that separated them. Just that small distance and some ingrained barrier in his mind, shaking its head in disapproval and conjuring painfully vivid images of her pulling away before his fingers even grazed her skin, leaving him as quickly as she could.

“It’s not that… reading this book is such a complete torment,” she began with a sigh, relaxing her posture slightly as his shadow loomed just above her. She held the book out toward him, so close that she didn’t even have to extend her elbow. She had clearly changed the subject. “You can… check for yourself. It’s decently written. At times, good. It has some insightful points. Page 814, for example. Verse 6.”

Surprised not only by the request but also by her precise instructions, Reid took the book from her without hesitation. It was incredibly thick and heavy, with no interesting illustrations on the cover, only the author’s name written in fancy font. Though his reading speed was impressive, instead of absorbing the information on the following pages, he focused on reaching the one she had pointed out.

The mentioned quote was underlined with a black line, as if drawn with a ruler.

"It is impossible to prove your loyalty under favorable conditions. For it to happen, something must shake your world, the walls of your home must begin to crumble, and challenges must materialize outside. Only then, in that most difficult moment for both of you, can you finally prove to the other person that you will never leave them, and that your love will never reach their back."

"I love this quote," she said before he could formulate any thought. Surprisingly, there was no trace of irony in her voice. "Honestly. It's accurate and aligns with my personal worldview. But at the same time, it amuses me incredibly..." She scoffed bitterly. "...That it came from the pen of a guy who, after sixteen years of marriage, got another woman pregnant. Oopsie. A bit of hypocrisy, don't you think?"

Completely shaken by the confession, Spencer placed his hand on her shoulder. He didn't care that she had said it all in a tone dripping with sarcasm, not in the form of a broken lament. He still felt that he had to, felt that he needed to offer her some form of support, even if it was as weak as touching her hand.

She seemed to be in shock. Those earlier words had almost escaped from her lips on their own, and she kept them slightly parted, as if hoping they would return. And when they didn't, she must not have expected his reaction. Or maybe she was counting on a response just as sharp as her tone, a snicker or a biting retort. Not a touch, not a tender furrowing of his brow.

Her bottom lip trembled, and her cheeks flushed with a delicate redness.

“Sorry, really. Can I... can I open the window? I think I need some fresh air…”

Instead of responding, he guided her toward the window, his hand resting on her back, hovering just at the edge of touch. She closed her eyes, feeling the winter chill against her face, and sighed. Spencer, though reluctantly, stepped back a couple of paces, giving her space. But he couldn't stop himself from studying her face. He hadn't noticed it before, too focused on her mind, but now he saw that her face, her presence, was just as beautiful.

Was it just a simple statement of fact, or a thought that had emerged from the unpredictable corners of his inner self?

They spent a moment, maybe even a few minutes, in silence. After that, she hesitantly turned to him over her shoulder.

"Oh no, don't you dare apologize again," he warned, extending his hand in a firm gesture.

"But I should," she said. "You're my professor, and I just came to you and started unloading about my life. It's not even just inappropriate anymore, it's simply pathetic."

"As long as I don't consider it inappropriate or pathetic, then it isn't. And you place too much importance on the fact that I'm your professor. Maybe... it would help you if you stopped seeing me only in that context, and started... seeing me as, say, a friend. And if that's too much, then at least as a genuinely interested conversational partner?"

The corners of her lips suddenly trembled.

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Well, I think we could argue about the definition if we wanted to."

“There’s no need for that,” she said, turning fully away from the window and leaning on the windowsill with her elbows. A few traces of a blush still lingered on her face, adding so much charm that Spencer’s thoughts began to wander in such a dangerous direction that he had to look away. “But… I need to know. Is that… what you really think of me? A conversation companion? A slash, a friend?”

“I’m not sure… if I understand,”

One of her nails bent as she nervously tapped it on the windowsill.

“I just want to know if you think of me as someone more than an annoying student who bothers you after every lecture.”

Reid was momentarily taken aback.

“You thought I thought of you like that?”

Unfazed, she blinked.

“You tell me.”

"He didn’t know how to put it into words without it sounding inappropriate. In the end, he decided to stop worrying about propriety and just be honest.

"Not once, since you started coming to see me, have I thought you were irritating. But more than once, I’ve thought that you’re truly fascinating, and I even... I even found myself eagerly awaiting what you’d want to talk about next."

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she listened to him. The old, familiar impenetrability returned to her expression—her eyes slightly narrowed, her lips... perhaps on the verge of an uncertain smile?

He never got the chance to find out. Immediately after his words, someone interrupted them, completely shattering the atmosphere inside.

"Are there any more classes here?" asked the man responsible for cleaning, peeking inside. "I thought they were over..."

"Because they are," Reid quickly replied, only now noticing that, indeed, darkness had fallen outside. Their classes had taken place in the afternoon, and the conversation had stretched so long that early winter evening had already begun. "We were just... just leaving."

"Well then, I guess goodbye," she said once they were outside. "It really got late, and I need to rewrite my notes..."

For some reason, he felt incredibly disappointed.

The last lecture before the Christmas break took place in a dreamy atmosphere. Everyone's spirit was already outside the classroom, far from criminology-related topics, surrounded by family and loved ones.

As usual, he couldn't stop glancing in her direction. He was incredibly pleased that nothing had changed since their memorable conversation, and their routine of chatting after every class remained untouched. Or perhaps something had changed? Their mutual ease with one another had grown, as had the range of topics they navigated. His impatience for their conversations had grown as well...

That day, he waited for her to approach his desk with her characteristic, slow, perfectly controlled step. He watched, almost hypnotized, as she did, adjusting her bag on her shoulder before standing up from her seat. But when she was right in front of him, one of her friends, the loud one, suddenly grabbed her hand.

"Don't tell me you're planning to bother him again," she scoffed. "We were supposed to go out and eat together before I head home, remember?"

"Oh," her friend hesitated, casting an apologetic glance at Spencer. They were too close for him not to overhear their conversation. He felt a selfish frustration rising within him. "Actually, sorry, I forgot. But...Can you give me a minute?"

Her friend rolled her eyes but nodded, and after a moment, they were left alone in the room.

"You're not staying to chat, or has my deduction skills gotten worse?"

"Unfortunately. I mean, unfortunately, I'm not staying. For long. I just wanted to... wish you a Merry Christmas."

Sometimes, when he talked to her, he forgot there was a world outside of their conversation, and that such a thing as months existed, and one of them was December. Christmas, right.

"Merry Christmas, to you too. I hope... I hope you'll have a really nice time."

He didn't know what else to add. Everything he said could lead to a long discussion, and outside the door, her friend was probably waiting for her to join her. So he stayed silent, a little awkwardly. She gave him an equally awkward smile. Awkward, but sincere.

Her feet shuffled in place, as if they wanted to stay in the room, not leave.

She waved goodbye once more to break the tension and disappeared through the door.

Spencer let out a heavy sigh. Maybe he should've said something. Suddenly, so many possible topics came to his mind. For example, the holiday party, the ball, organized by her department. Was she planning to go? What about Christmas itself? Was she going to spend it with her family? How was she feeling? How had her day gone? Did she enjoy the lecture? They were short questions, ones she'd probably answer just as briefly. He could have asked any of them.

But it was too late. They won't see each other until the beginning of the new semester.

He overanalyzed the interaction for a few more hours, later that evening, on his way to the university library. The corridors were almost empty; the students had either left or were attending the Christmas ball that had just begun. It might have sounded a bit serious and pompous, but such an event was indeed organized every year by a different department. It shouldn’t be confused with a student party, as formal attire was required, and the music was usually classical or instrumental versions of traditional carols. It was a way to thank the students, faculty, and university management for completing another semester.

Initially, Reid had planned to stop by briefly, but after feeling strange for a few hours and sensing a migraine coming on, he decided to skip it. He definitely preferred to spend the evening among the shelves and books. He rarely admitted it to others, but the reason he chose this particular university was not the salary offered, but the richness of their library’s resources.

He had hoped that spending time there would help distract him from a certain student, who had progressively been occupying his thoughts more and more. In fact, she already had a room in his mind. A room. A damn palace with seven bedrooms, each dedicated to a different day of the week. What he hadn’t expected, however, was to see her almost immediately after stepping into the library. Fast asleep in one of the corners, her face resting on a small table with four seats around it, only one of which was occupied—hers.

Reid couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of it.

Before he had a chance to think about it, before the thought even crossed his mind that perhaps she didn’t want anyone disturbing her in the middle of her late-night solo study session, he moved closer, carefully stepping so as not to wake her. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he could probably jump up and down, and it wouldn’t make a difference. Both of her ears were plugged with headphones, effectively shutting her off from the sounds of the outside world.

Despite this fact, he carefully sat down on the edge of the table to her left, so close that her limp hand, resting on it, ended up parallel and very close to his leg. First, he glanced at the textbooks spread out before her, then at the thick book by her father, the one she still read every day. Finally, his gaze fell on her—on that face, deeply asleep. Unable to resist, he lifted his trembling hand and gently tucked the strands of hair that had fallen onto her face behind her ear.

The moment his fingers brushed her skin, she jolted awake with a startled flinch. Spencer blushed, realizing only then what he had done. To avoid embarrassing himself, he quickly cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Sorry to wake you. But this probably isn’t the most comfortable place to nap.”

She straightened up, blinking in confusion.

“Did I fall asleep…?” Her gaze locked on him, and she shook her head, now fully awake. “Oh, I definitely fell asleep. I didn’t even notice you coming up.”

“Maybe I was sneaking around too much. Anyway, what were you working on before you passed out? Studying, reading?”

Still rubbing her tired face, she looked at her things.

“I guess a bit of both. I had some catch-up work I wanted to do. Then I decided I had enough, and my brain just couldn’t absorb any more new facts or information. So, I started reading.” She nodded toward the book.

Reid stared at her for a moment longer.

“You know… I’ve been thinking about it lately,” he began. It was a little hard for him to focus on speaking when she rested her chin on her hand, looking at him from beneath her lifted lashes. Her eyes were puffy, mascara slightly smudged under her eyelids, but she still looked… well, it was hard to put it into a single word. “About your dad’s book, I mean.” Actually, he'd mostly been thinking about her, but that topic had popped into his mind for a moment. “And that quote you read to me once. It seemed pretty good, and I’m surprised no publisher wanted to release it. What’s it actually about?”

He felt confused by the sudden amusement that appeared on her face.

“What’s going on?” He furrowed his brows.

She shook her head, trying to suppress her laughter.

“Just so you know, I’m not laughing at you,” she quickly reassured him. “It’s just when I imagined your reaction… okay, just listen. My dad’s novel is about a young student, a poor one, who, in a moment of desperation, decides to murder a woman from whom he borrowed money. And then for the next thousand pages, he alternates between hating himself and trying to justify his actions in his own eyes.”

Spencer was silent, his brows lowering more and more.

“Sorry… I really don’t want to accuse your dad of plagiarism, but this sounds like…”

“Crime and Punishment, I know. And it is plagiarism. Well, he preferred to call it inspiration, and, to be fair, not everything is the same. The story takes place in New York instead of Petersburg, the main character’s name is different, but everything else… it’s the same, only longer. Every chapter stretched to its limits, with reflections on every possible subject. It’s almost twice the length of the original.”

Not knowing how exactly to respond, he did what felt most natural. He laughed, and she followed with a quick chuckle.

“Sorry, this is so absurd. Why... why did he actually do it?”

“I ask myself that question every day, believe me. He was kind of a Dostoyevsky wannabe. On his desk, he kept a photo of me and a collector’s edition of The Brothers Karamazov. He even... he even tried to force me to study Russian philology instead of criminology, but, well… you can see how that turned out. And if this sounds absurd to you, guess what the main character’s name is?”

“You mentioned it’s different. But I have no idea, probably something more in line with American standards…”

“Oh, very much. Rodney Rozzleknock. Now I bet you’re not surprised nobody wanted to publish it?”

For a moment, they sat in silence, he alternately shook his head in disbelief and hid his face in his hands. This was probably the most absurdly funny thing he had heard in a long time, and if it weren’t for the actual version of the book they were talking about being right in front of him, he wouldn’t believe it existed.

"So that's why you know so much about Russian literature," he said. They had once had a brief conversation on the topic, and he had actually been impressed.

"It wasn’t knowledge I willingly acquired. And by the way, what are you doing here, Professor?"

He shrugged. She hadn’t used that title for him in a while, but hadn’t yet started using his first name either, and he wasn’t sure how to suggest it.

"I was planning to drop by the ball for a bit, but I decided I’d rather spend some time among books. Speaking of which, the ball. Didn’t you want to go?"

He assumed that she might be similar to him in that regard and didn’t really care for events like that. But, to his surprise, a certain, not so obvious expression crossed her face.

"Actually, I would have gone if I had gotten an invitation."

"I don’t understand," he furrowed his brows. "You don’t need an invitation. Your department organized it, you were all invited just by the fact of it.”

Her lips parted in shock, and a short Oh escaped.

"In that case... I guess it doesn't matter anymore. It's too late. My friend won't be there, the rest of my friends have probably already gone, and I won’t be able to find them in the crowd, and..." She sighed, a bit embarrassed. "And I guess I'm just kind of too shy to show up there alone."

Reid watched her in silence for a moment. A foolish thought crossed his mind. Foolish, but... was it really? He had no idea how she might interpret it, whether she’d even want to, or what she’d think of him.

“I’d be happy to... go with you,” he blurted out, nervously swallowing the lump in his throat as soon as the words left his mouth. His eyes stayed fixed on her, searching for her reaction.

And she... burst into laughter, probably assuming he was joking.

“Wait... seriously?” she asked, straightening her shoulders, her tone suddenly more incredulous. “But... how do you even imagine that? It’s already started, I’m completely unprepared, and it’s formal attire only…”

"I’ll need to change too. But it won’t take long, and the ball goes on late. We’ll only be a little late," he reasoned logically, realizing he was actively trying to convince her. He hated these kinds of events, but this was a chance to spend time together... Besides, he was doing it for her. Why should she miss out on something she clearly wanted to attend just because of a misunderstanding and a bit of shyness?

"Yeah... but I’ll still have to deal with everything else. I look—"

Before she could finish, he leaned in and gently wiped the smudged mascara from under her eye with his thumb.

"You look perfect. Just right for the ball. So?"

Her eyes widened at the gesture, and a sharp exhale escaped her lips.

“Okay. Okay. I think... I think we can do this... Why not? Just give me fifteen minutes. Thirty. Thirty minutes...”

As she spoke, she hastily gathered all her belongings into her bag, glanced at him for a brief moment, then disappeared in a rush, not even looking back over her shoulder.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt as though he had been glued to the table he was perched on. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest.

Did he just... ask the girl he liked to a ball?

And she said yes?

He still couldn’t quite believe it, even when, exactly thirty minutes later—almost as though she’d measured the time with a stopwatch—they met again at the entrance to the gymnasium, now transformed for the occasion.

The floor had been covered in polished wooden panels, and the walls were draped with light-colored fabrics, adorned with strings of glowing garlands shaped like snowflakes. In the corner of the room, a small stage, decorated with sprigs of evergreen, hosted a modest orchestra of students and members of the college choir, playing gentle holiday tunes live.

The scene was beautiful, almost magical, but Spencer only took it in once as they entered. For the rest of the evening, his attention was solely on her—because, once again, he couldn’t find the words to describe what he was seeing.

And that didn’t happen very often.

"Do you think... do you think any of the other professors might disapprove of you being here with me?" she asked hesitantly as they made their way along the edge of the gym, skirting the buffet and staying far from the crowd dancing in the center.

For a moment, Spencer didn’t process her question. He was too focused on the way her lips moved as she spoke, too focused on her. Shaking himself out of it, he replayed her words in his mind.

"I… uh… no, I don’t think so," he replied, stumbling over his words. "Why would they? We’re both adults."

She still didn’t look convinced. Her brow furrowed, her gaze darting between the dance floor and him. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm, keeping them connected in the growing crowd, though she kept adjusting her grip as if unsure about the contact.

When Spencer tried to pull away, thinking she might be uncomfortable, she surprised him by grabbing his arm again, more firmly this time. Her insistence sent a strange, electrifying warmth through him.

He sighed softly, acutely aware of how close they were now—so close that their hips nearly brushed with every step. "Besides," he added, trying to sound reassuring, "this is a ball. Everyone’s here to have fun. No one’s going to pay any attention to us."

She nodded, as if trying to convince herself of the same thing, though her gaze drifted once more to the couples twirling around the dance floor. He felt a pang of apprehension, hoping she didn’t want to join them. That would be a disaster—he’d only manage to humiliate himself in front of her.

"I’m not much of a dancer," he blurted out quickly. "Okay, that’s an understatement. I’m a terrible dancer. You’d… you’d really rather not see me try, trust me."

For a moment, she stayed silent, her expression unreadable. Then, a small smile tugged at her lips.

"I, on the other hand, am a pretty good dancer," she admitted, attempting to sound modest. But after a beat, she rolled her eyes at herself and added with a wry laugh, "Okay, fine—I’m very good. My dad was a Dostoyevsky fanatic, but my mom? She was obsessed with dance. She practically dragged me to lessons for years. She thought it was a terrible shame not to know how to dance—especially for a man. No offense, of course."

Spencer ducked his head with a soft laugh.

"None taken. Listen, I believe you're a fantastic teacher... but I also believe I'm a lost cause. I might accidentally step on your feet..."

"You should pray that I don't step on your feet," she retorted with a laugh, extending her foot and tapping the heel of her shoe for emphasis. "But I think you should at least give it a try. After all, it’s a ball."

Spencer looked at her for a moment, caught between amusement and mild dread, before finally shrugging with a resigned grin.

Earlier in life, he hadn’t had many opportunities to dance, so he was relieved that the piece being played by the school orchestra turned out to be incredibly slow. He could only cautiously mimic her movements, trying not to hurt her. However, focus came with difficulty as his nostrils were constantly filled with the sweet, distracting scent of her perfume and her body itself.

“You’re doing great,” she whispered softly, briefly lifting her gaze to him. He stared at her face for a moment, so close to his, cursing in his mind when she lowered her gaze again…

All evening, he had to fight with himself to avoid doing anything foolish.

But when, at midnight, they found themselves in his office, it became incredibly difficult.

Especially when she was slightly leaning against his desk, just in front of him, and the blush of dance-induced fatigue covered most of her neck. He wanted to touch that particular spot on her skin, expecting the blood to be pulsing there very quickly.

Her breath seemed quickened too, and every sound that escaped her lips drew him closer and closer to her. To the point where he thought he might lose his mind.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, hoping that if he focused on the words, on speaking them, it might somehow sober him from this state. “I really... didn’t expect to have such a great time at the ball.”

Speaking wasn’t helping; the way her gaze wandered over him certainly wasn’t helping. The way the dress fit her body... none of it was helping.

"I'm glad," she said softly, the redness now covering not just her neck but most of her cheeks as well. She took a deep breath, as if calming herself. "You know, I felt a little guilty because I had the impression that you went there just for me."

"Well, I considered going alone... earlier," he confessed. "But in the end, I changed my mind, and I'm glad I did, because otherwise, I wouldn't have run into you, and I wouldn't remember any of this so clearly. Thank you," he repeated, and before he knew it, he was standing even closer to her, closer than propriety would dictate. Unable to fight it any longer, he reached for her hip, hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. She sharply inhaled, seeming embarrassed by her own reaction. He started to pull back, but then she lightly perched herself on the edge of the desk... and his hand slid down her body, gently grazing her knee. “"Really, I would like to thank you..."

His throat went dry, a nervous sweat rose on his neck. He felt her knee, then her thigh under his finger, his whole hand under the fabric of her dress, heading higher and higher…but suddenly stopped, when her trembling hands began to untie his tie.

"Probably... probably you're uncomfortable," she explained, swallowing. She looked at the collar of his shirt, at the place where his hands were, but couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes. "It's a bit... stuffy in here."

He could feel the moisture on his fingers even though his fingers didn’t even get inside. He hesitated right there, glancing uncertainly at her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing heavily, exhales escaping her lips with a quiet hiss.

"Are you okay?" he asked, making sure. He didn't like the fact that her eyes were closed; he couldn't read many emotions from her face, and he needed to be certain that this was what she wanted. Her face didn't even twitch at his question. "I won't do anything more if you don't answer me."

She swallowed, their faces were inches apart, and he could see and hear it.

"What... what would you like me to answer?"

"Just that you want this," he whispered.

"I want this...Spencer."

It was probably the first time she addressed him by his name, but the state he was in didn’t allow him to trust his memory too much. He hadn’t expected himself to ever think like that. In any case, it acted like a catalyst for him. Barely had the last syllable left her lips, his finger sank into her.

One, and soon after, another.

His name escaped her lips again, but this time, halfway through, it turned into a sweet, pleading moan. For a while, no sound other than their restless breaths could be heard in the office. Her moan tore through the surroundings, pierced the air, and lodged itself there forever. Just as it became lodged in his ears, tickling them from within. He wanted to hear it again...He quickly found the rhythm that most often caused it.

She spread her legs wider which allowed him to get closer, to gain better access. At first, both of her hands were gripping the edge of the desk, her knuckles almost white. With each of his movements, stronger and gradually faster, they began to loosen slowly, until they finally released completely. Surprised, she sighed, not knowing where to place them, and threw them around his neck.

“Is… is this how you’re thanking me for today?’ she asked, her voice high, he could barely understand her through the chaotic breaths. He was so focused that he didn’t even notice she had opened her eyes.

Her beautiful eyes. So pleading, begging him not to stop.

"Are you taking this as a form of thanks?"

She nodded, and at the same moment, she closed her eyes again, tilting her head back. Spencer groaned at the sight of her exposed neck, the blush covering it. He leaned to taste her warm skin, pressing his lips against it, then sighed directly into her, as a shiver ran through her entire body.

He had a feeling that if one more sound escaped her lips, he would simply lose his mind. Barely managed to speak again, his voice completely out of place with the words he intended to say, so high, almost crying.

"That's... that's not enough to thank you, don't you think?"

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zoe-oneesama · 7 months ago

Note

Since SL is ending, do u have a favorite outfit you wished you could have draw more of it? Can be any character.

You unlocked something in me cuz I went digging for these:

I drew this super cute coat-dress for Rose and then only got to show the back of it?! And I looooved this fall look on Alya so much I tried to use it again in "Puppeteer" but barely got use out of it there either. And I deliberately referenced my favorite Akane Tendo from Ranma 1/2 look with Mylene...and then only showed her tiny 😭😭

This blink-and-you'll-miss-it look for Alix was so layered and so what I think I'd put Alix in as her permanent outfit if I was designing her for the show. Same for this adorable oversized fit for Ondine, she needs an "out of the water" look. As for Chloe and Sabrina, I felt like these both really reflected them well so it's too bad I only got two pages out of them.

I actually DID get a lot of real-estate out of this Alya look, I just liked it so much I want to see it more. And this Nino doesn't blow my mind but I drew him so cute in my sketchbook quick sketch that I want to bring the look back just to recapture the magic. And this long skirt on Nadja made her look kinda hot, I waited to late to start messing with the adults.

I just really liked the few times I got to draw Juleka in this look, I wonder if it's actually the hair that I liked most. And poor Marc, I drew them in this "is it a shirt? is it a dress?" look but you never see below their waist! And I killed it with these three, you can tell that I just really like the outfits I made for Alya, Kagami doesn't get to wear casual clothes enough, and Nino isn't super fashionable, but when I nail it for him I NAIL it!

I like making the rich kids casual. (Also I fully admit that there's just something about showing off guys collarbones for me, idk what it is). I especially like this Chloe look because it's inspired by fellow creator @mikoriin's artwork of her! Ivan is hard to get excited about because I feel like part of his visual design is that he's NOT fashionable (I mean he's wearing two different shades of black, the nightmare) so when I can trick him into looking good, I like it 💖And I like most of the looks I give Lila, wanting to see her outfit more is just me wanting to write her more.

Last but not least, the Hero fits from the kids. If you add in Alya dressed as Fox Trot, the Cesaires cover the Main 4 of SL (pre Ladybug) lol. It's a shame that they couldn't show off their hero worship more.

#my art #rough sketch #sl fashion #sl art

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rewiringtoheal · 27 days ago

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A Little Bit Of Morning Bliss

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: a relaxing morning spent in bed.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. soft smut.

A/N: First and possibly last time writing smut lol.

You adore mornings like this. The faintest gleam of sunlight surrounds you and Natasha as the two of you cuddle close together. Frisky hands exploring the curves of each other's bodies. Igniting an ember of need within you both. Your mind is hazy as you slowly move Natasha beneath you; her arms and legs curling around you instinctively. You feel her shudder as your breasts make contact. You love having every inch of your body aligned with hers and you know she does too. You rest your forehead against hers. Just laying there for a moment listening to sounds of your shared breathing and the birds waking up outside.

“Detka, you’ve been teasing me all morning.” Natasha rasped.

“Hmmm..” You draw your head back slightly with a soft smile on your face. “I didn’t mean to. I just love being close to you like this.” You whisper.

Natasha melts into the mattress at your confession. The gaze she directs at you is filled with complete adoration. “I love being close like this with you too. It’s the only time I feel like a normal person. In this bed here with you I get to just exist without any expectations. It’s liberating.” Natasha smiles, hugging you tighter.

“My darling, I’ve never been happier than when I’m here with you. I like being in our little cocoon together as well. I love you so much.” You confess.

“I love you too, more than you could ever know. Now..come here. I want you closer.” Natasha purred.

You dip your head down; gently gliding your nose alongside hers for a brief moment before connecting your lips. You leisurely brush your lips over one another’s. Just enjoying the taste of each other's mouths. Her bottom lip becomes too tempting. You can’t resist sucking it into your mouth and gently biting down. Natasha inhales a shaky breath and opens her mouth up to you. Your tongues meet in a blissful all to familiar dance; lightly massaging themselves together. Not a fight for dominance but a languid affair. The two of you falling into the depths of each other's warmth.

Both of your hands start to wander over smooth warm skin. Your lips leave her supple mouth to press kisses along her jaw. Your tongue follows the curve of her neck leaving a trail of saliva. Soft little nips are made playfully along the way. Each one causes Natasha to moan. You are soon met with full round breasts, nuzzling both of them in greeting. You revel at the goose bumps that form on her skin. Impatient hands tangle in your hair guiding your head to a pretty pink peak. You take the hint, flicking your tongue over her nipple; coaxing it taut. Until you finally suck the sensitive bud into your mouth. Natasha squirms beneath you. You bring your free hand up to massage her neglected breast. Alternating between rolling her nipple between your fingers and squeezing the tender flesh.

She starts rocking her hips against your pelvis; desperate to find even a little bit of friction. You can feel the warmth of her wetness smearing onto you.

“Fuck, Detka. I need you. Please stop teasing me.” Nastasha pleaded.

You move to hover over Natasha slightly. Your brain momentarily stutters at the sight that greets you. The loveliest shade of red hair fans out across the pillows. Her full pink lips are set in an adorable pout. Those beautiful green eyes you love so much are blown black with desire and a faint flush coats her cheeks. She looks breathtaking. You can feel your own arousal starting to drip down your thighs from the imagery alone. You may have wanted to take your time worshiping every inch of her body this morning but you can't deny her any longer. For both your sakes.

You tenderly caress her cheek. “Baby, don’t worry. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” You whispered.

You kiss Natasha on the lips one last time before withdrawing from her arms. You tap the thighs wrapped around your waist, guiding them open. Situating them to hang loosely on your shoulders. You lay in the coveted position between Natasha’s legs with reverence. Your taste buds start to water at the sight that greets you. Her bright red curls are dripping with desire. Gorgeous pink lips begging to be licked. You look up at Natasha while raking your nails along her thighs. A shiver runs up her body from the sensation. As your eyes lock the room fills with an air of anticipation.

You can’t wait anymore and neither can she. You slide your hands up Natasha’s thighs spreading her lips with your thumbs. You are surrounded by the musky scent of her arousal as you make your first broad stroke up her slit. Natasha’s cry of pleasure echoes in the room. Her hands make their way back into your hair pulling you closer to her. You are in heaven as the salty taste of her coats your tongue. You lap at her entrance, swirling your tongue around it. Before delving in.

“Shit, baby. That feels so good.” Natasha keened, pulling you further into her body, trying to get you to consume her. She starts to grind against your mouth, meeting your tongue thrust for thrust.

You bring one of your thumbs up to stimulate her swollen clit, with small tight circles. It is in dire need of some lovin after so long without attention. Natasha seems to agree if the shrill obscenities leaving her mouth are any indication.

“God, don’t stop. So fucking good.” Natasha whined. You groan against her, feeling drunk with lust. The vibrations send trembles through Natasha. “Oh shit..fuck!” Natasha cries out. Strong thighs clamp around your head. You are drowning in her. Your only goal in life is to make her cum. You know she’s close. The walls of her core are clenching around your tongue and her slick is running down your neck. You ignore the ache in your jaw as you devour her. Thrusting into that sweet spongy spot inside of her. You can’t help but groan again knowing how good the vibrations made her feel the first time. As the sensations hit her for the second time you feel her thighs grow tense like a bow string. You see her arche off the bed with a silent cry as she is thrown over the edge. The grinding of her hips transforms into a gentle stutter as you help her ride out her orgasm.

Natasha’s legs go limp, dropping from your shoulders onto the bed in an uncoordinated movement. You give her thigh an affectionate squeeze. You are covered in her slick, a sheen of sweat coats your bodies, and yet you don’t care. All you want is to cuddle up with Natasha. You slide up her body, nuzzling your nose into her neck. Each one of your legs resting on either side of her abdomen. Your arms hugging her.

“Mhmm..” Natasha grasped your hips encouraging them to rock into her abdomen, “I wanna make you feel good too, Detka. Ride me.”

You can’t help but comply. You are so turned on. Natasha’s stomach is covered in your essence. You are sliding more than rocking at this point but the friction feels so good. You cum quicker than you would normally like but who can really blame you. It only takes a few seconds of humping her flexed abs before you are shuddering through your orgasm.

“Fuck, Natty.” You murmur.

As you collapse onto the body below you. Feeling every ounce of energy drain out of you. You and Natasha wrap yourselves around each other. Just basking in the afterglow.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha x you #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson #Scarlett Johansson x you #writing

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hgfictionwriter · 3 months ago

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Frustration

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: It's no secret that you have a hold on Jessie. And sometimes, you want to see just how far that goes.

Warnings: G!P content. Edging, teasing, dirty talk. Premature ejaculation.

A/N: I could picture this theme going a few different ways, so, here's one. We'll see if I'm tempted to write another scenario in the future. Love this concept though lol. Based on this request.

"You all set to go?"

You peeked over your shoulder to see Jessie, who'd been waiting patiently at the dining room table for you. She rose from her seat and head over to join you at the entryway of your shared apartment.

"Thanks for waiting," you told her as you handed her her shoes. She smirked and gave you a quick kiss as she took them from you.

"I know the drill," she joked.

You gathered up your belongings, looking around once more to make sure you had everything.

"Good?" She asked as she waited for your affirmation.

"Oh, I forgot one thing," you announced as you turned back towards her.

"Oh, wh-"

Her words caught in her throat as you grasped her hand and slipped it under your skirt. You relished the expression on her face as you pushed your panties aside with her fingers and coated her digits in the arousal pooling at your core.

You pushed the tips of her fingers against your entrance, dipping inside just so before releasing them and drawing her hand away.

“Okay, let’s go,” you said brightly as you opened the door. You smirked at her slack jaw and the way she belatedly blinked. Your gaze flicked downward to her pants and saw the faintest outline of her length growing. You smiled and headed into the hall.

You were halfway to the elevator when you heard the apartment door slam. You glanced behind to see Jessie locking up and walking toward you, jacket held strategically in front of her and sporting a glare.

“What the hell, babe,” she muttered as she joined you in the elevator, her gaze lingering for a second before shifting to the roof of the elevator.

“What?” You asked innocently, but ultimately couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Consider it a compliment.”

You bit back a laugh as something akin to a grumble and a growl escaped her.

When you climbed into the car you spied out of the corner of your eye how she shifted uncomfortably and adjusted her pants in an attempt to hide her burgeoning arousal. You stifled another laugh as she huffed as she began the drive.

You tried to mind your own business, looking out the window, but the resilient bulge in her pants caught your eye every time you glanced over. You couldn’t resist reaching over, laying a hand on her thigh and allowing it to venture upwards.

“Cool it,” she told you in a terse voice as she slowed to a stop at the intersection.

“I can help you, you know,” you offered lightly as your hand began to graze along the front of her pants and caress her bulge. She exhaled visibly through her mouth as you felt her hardening further underneath your touch. She gripped the steering wheel and swallowed.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled as she shot you a look before her eyes fell closed as you massaged her further.

You both jolted in your seats as the car behind you honked. You looked forward in alarm to see the light had turned green and traffic had moved on before dissolving into a snicker. Looking over you saw her face burn red and she shot you another glare.

Jessie, much to your appreciation, had always been quite responsive to your advances - some reactions intentional, some not. That combined with her rosy cheeks, made her such an easy target for your teasing and this morning you’d gotten an idea into your head and you couldn’t let it go. Jessie may grumble and complain along the way, but you were confident she’d be happy in the end.

It wasn’t long before she pulled into a stall at the grocery store and she put the car in park with another dirty look your direction.

“We’re not going in yet,” she muttered with an irritated glance down at the faint outline of her lingering arousal. She spotted the self-satisfied look on your face and you looked away as she delivered an accusatory stare. “You’re mean and a tease.”

“Doesn’t have to be a tease…,” you said and Jessie grunted as she unbuckled and hoisted herself out of the car.

You followed her in and she wandered on ahead of you, still irritated and frustrated. By the time you caught up she seemed to have relaxed and there was no sign of her earlier excitement. Still, she was less than pleased with you.

She gave you a discerning stare as you approached and dropped a few items into the basket she held.

“Can we make bruschetta tonight?” You asked lightly.

“Whatever,” she grumbled, avoiding holding eye contact.

You sighed quietly and stood before her. You rested your hands on the side of her neck, thumbs grazing up and down. She gave you a look of warning before you let one hand drift downward, along her chest and torso until it flirted with her groin and thigh. She exhaled stiffly and her grip on the basket tightened.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s healthy - and sexy - that you get excited so easily,” you told her quietly, ignoring the affronted look she gave you. “And, I mean, it turns me on, to know I get you worked up.” You leaned in further, your breath hot in her ear. “I'm dripping wet just thinking about your thick cock slipping into me." You finished with a lick to her ear, holding back a grin as she tensed up and the faintest moan crept up her throat.

“Jesus Christ,” Jessie complained, her gaze flitting about in a fluster as she clutched the basket to her front. You glanced down with a grin.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

She narrowed her eyes at you.

“You fucking know,” she muttered through grit teeth. “What are you trying to do to me today?”

“I’m just having some fun,” you shrugged. You cast your gaze downward briefly, but pointedly. “And despite your claims, I’d say you are too.”

She grunted her complaint and forged on again without you, her gait somewhat stilted as she navigated and tried to hide her renewed arousal behind the basket she carried.

When you were leaving the grocery store she shoved the keys into your hands. You looked to her in surprise.

“You can drive,” she pouted.

She always drove. So you knew she was definitely pissed at this point. Your suspicions were confirmed as she got in and slumped into her seat hardly offering even a hint of a glance as you began to drive.

“Where are we going?” She eventually mumbled in complaint as she peered around critically several minutes in.

“I’m getting you a peace offering,” is all you said.

“Ice cream?” She eventually said as you reached your destination.

“Don’t complain. I know you love it,” you said. She rolled her eyes but got out of the car just the same.

“It’s nice out, let’s sit outside,” you suggested after you both got your cones. She quietly took up a seat next to you at a nearby bench, still irritated by your earlier teasing though she had yet again calmed down.

“How’s yours?” You asked. She gave you a fleeting glance, looking away quickly when she saw you licking your ice cream.

“Fine,” she answered flatly.

“You’re dripping,” you said as you nodded to a small streak of ice cream that had melted and was now dripping onto one of her fingers.

She hardly looked at it when you held her cone with one hand and grasped her hand with the other, bringing her finger into your mouth, wrapping your tongue sensually around it and sucking. You locked eyes with her as you slowly bobbed your head back and forth a couple of times, making extra sure to get it clean.

“Babe,” she forced out, eventually pulling her finger back and readjusting her position on the bench as she cleared her throat. “Christ, this is torture.”

Jessie shifted away, turning her back to you. You started rubbing her back in half-hearted consolation and she grumbled once more.

She was still huffy and irritable when you got back into the car after you’d both finished. You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye as she shifted repeatedly in her seat and adjusted her pants same as she did at the start of your journey.

"You know - it's actually very uncomfortable,” she mumbled with a sidelong glance towards you as you drove home.

“Well, let me help, then,” you offered as you rubbed her thigh. She grunted in complaint.

“No,” she pouted as she grabbed your hand and held it firmly in hers - well away from the symptom of her frustration. “I’ll do it myself when I get home.”

Your jaw dropped and you slowly turned your head to her with an scandalized look.

“Without me? I don’t even get to reap the rewards of my hard work?” You asked, flabbergasted.

“Nope.” Jessie smirked. “Too bad.”

She’d pay for that.

When you were both back at the apartment and just starting to put away the groceries you set your eyes on her. She was facing a counter and unloading a bag when you came up behind her, wrapping your arms around her middle and began laying slow kisses along the back of her neck. You felt a low rumble in her chest and let your hands begin to wander.

"I'm unpacking groceries," she said flatly, though she'd stilled all efforts to do so and didn't remove herself from your embrace.

"I can think of some other things you can do," you said lightly as you took her earlobe in between your teeth and tugged, giving it a flick with your tongue. You felt her knees weaken subtly before she straightened once more.

"Don't be mad at me, baby," you gently urged as one of your hands drifted lower, toying with the waistband of her pants.

"I'm not mad, I'm frustrated," she corrected firmly as she craned her neck back to shoot you a look. "And you know damn well why."

"Well, let's deal with that," you said and grabbed her by the hand and led her to the couch before she could protest. You gave her a sensual kiss, your tongue grazing her lips and pulling another small groan of complaint from her that only deepened when you began to caress her growing length through her pants yet again. You smirked as you pushed her down onto the couch.

Though she looked up at you with a begrudging glare, you weren't fooled. Your eyes fell to the area at the front of her pants that were now pulled taut yet again under your teasing and ministrations.

"It's really fucking uncomfortable," Jessie complained further as she crossed her arms and looked away under your mirthful stare. She cleared her throat as she shifted restlessly.

"Well I can't have you feeling that way, now can I?" You asked as you straddled her lap. You rocked your hips forward as you feigned settling in, making sure to have your heat press directly against her straining member. Another helpless moan formed in her throat and you were keenly aware of how her eyes closed instinctually.

She exhaled heavily as she opened her eyes once more, some of her stubbornness stripping away as she unfolded her arms and let her hands rest on your bare legs.

"You are so unbelievably mean," she pouted, though her fingers started sneak up your thighs and under your skirt.

"How so, baby?" You asked as you rocked yourself against her again, your thin panties the only thing stopping you from making a mess on the front of her pants.

Her movements stopped and her fingers dug into you as she gave you another pointed look.

"You've been teasing me all fucking morning. What do you mean 'How so'?"

"Just asking," you answered innocently as you continued to grind your hips into her. You bit back a smirk as her grip on you tightened and she began rocking her hips up into you. You could see by the way her jaw clenched that she was doing her best to remain composed. You leaned into her ear to whisper.

"I can't help it if I've been thinking about nothing but your hard cock filling me, stretching me so tight."

She moaned softly and her hands kneaded your thighs before starting to play with the band of your panties. You began riding her faster, pushing into her more firmly. Your lips parted as you began to pant gently in her ear.

"I've been so fucking wet for you all day. Just aching and throbbing for you. I can feel how hard you are. God, I just want you inside me. I'm probably soaking through my panties and getting cum all of your pants."

"Jesus Christ," Jessie grunted as she gripped your hips tightly and pulled you down against her. She removed one hand and went to undo her pants, but you instead you grabbed it, moving your panties aside and pushing her fingers through your slick folds. "Oh fuck," she breathed as her head fell slack against the back of the couch.

"Feel what you do to me?" You whispered. "Even when you aren't even trying."

"Babe," She warned. "If we're going to do this, we better-"

You brought her hand away and up to your mouth, sitting back enough to make eye contact with her. Her eyelids were heavy with lust and she moaned as you took her fingers into your mouth and sucked them clean, your head bobbing against her fingers in time with the way your hips rocked against her.

"Jesus fuck," she hissed, head falling back once more as her eyes fell shut. "God, baby." You noted the way her breathing was shallow and quick now. You ran your fingers through her hair before your fingers dug into her crown.

"God, I just want you so badly," you whined as you ground into her. "It feels so good when you first slip inside me. Then when you bottom out and start fucking me? Nothing is better." You clutched her tightly, still riding her restricted cock. You felt her tensing up underneath you. "Please baby, I need you so much."

"Ba-" Her protest dissolved into a whimper as her fingers dug almost painfully into your hips as she stiffened up entirely, mouth agape and silent for several seconds until a feeble gasp escaped her, her body shuddering and tensing up further a few times until melting away from you and falling slack into the cushions.

Her shoulders rose up and down, mouth still open and eyes dazed as she tried to catch her breath.

"F-fuck," she eventually breathed, an expression of concern slowly evolving on her face. Her cheeks were rosy from your recent escapade, but were now growing a deeper shade of crimson.

"Honey?" You asked, knowing fully well what had just happened.

You saw her setting her jaw repeatedly, gaze looking through your body as she clearly worked to process what happened. She opened her mouth a couple of times to speak.

"I-um." She stammered. You felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction at getting this women, who prided herself on stamina, to cum before she had even gotten her pants off. You leaned down and kissed her, though she only passively accepted.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know...," she trailed off, cheeks burning brightly.

"Don't be sorry," you kissed her cheek and gave her ear a playful lick before you whispered. "It's actually really fucking hot."

She shot you a look, something between disbelieving and irritated. You got off of her and she gave you an almost hurt expression, perhaps anticipating some kind of rejection or scolding, only to be surprised as you settled onto your knees in between her legs.

"I'm serious," you told her as you reached out and started to undo her pants. She went to stop you.

"Hey," she said, her hands on yours, unable to hold your gaze for long as she looked away sheepishly again.

"Trust me," you told her as you pulled her hand to you and kissed it. You waited for her to give you a nod and you continued.

"I consider it a huge fucking compliment that I could get you off like that," you told her as she allowed you to take off her pants. You reached for her boxers and she stopped you again.

"Babe," she implored bashfully. She spoke again in a hushed voice. "It's going to be a mess."

"The messier the better," you told her. She looked unconvinced. "I love you so much. And you know what I love almost as much? Making you cum."

She took a large breath and studied you for a moment before relenting and letting you take off her boxers.

She wasn't lying - it was a mess. But it made you throb with want.

"God, that's so sexy," you said as you grasped her softening cock. You rubbed her cum along it, using it as lube as you began to tease her length again. "Knowing I did that. That you wanted me that much."

Jessie's lips parted as she watched you working her, her length beginning to grow hard again under your touch.

"It's only fair," you teased. "You felt how wet I was; I should get the same from you."

She bit back a moan. "It's not the same."

"Well I think it's incredibly hot," you told her as you leaned forward, holding her gaze as you traced your tongue around the head of her member. You smiled at how her head fell back slightly and her shoulders rose. "Let me clean you up."

You took her into your mouth and sucked lightly as you pulled your head back. Soon, she was back to full length as you bobbed your head up and down on her, feeling her tip hitting the back of your throat. Again, you held back a smile at how you heard her fingers gripping the couch cushions tightly as you worked on her.

It wasn't long before she was subtly rocking her hips up into your mouth, her hand now caressing the side of your face before settling on the back of your head.

"Mm," she voiced. "God, baby. What are you doing to me?" Her breath was heavy as she clutched your hair in her hand.

Soon enough, her pace quickened, hips gently bucking as she held your head in place before a muffled grunt fell from her lips as she pushed herself into mouth, seed spilling down your throat.

"Fuck," she breathed as she drew back before pushing inside again, still spilling cum, her hips now starting to stutter against your mouth.

She laid there, spent, chest heaving up and down as she came down off of her second high. You lifted yourself up, smiling as you wiped the sides of your mouth clean. You rest your hands on either side of her hips and leaned in to start peppering her jawline and cheeks with sweet, chaste kisses. Still, she caught the blatantly smug look on your face.

"You're awfully happy with yourself, aren't you?" She said with a quiet smirk.

"I really am," you chuckled before smiling affectionately at her. "And with you."

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #woso smut #g!p

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sinnabum45 · 5 months ago

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Unexpected Babysitting

Link to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

[Plain text: Links to help Palestine and other resources! (palestine flag). End plain text.]

[Image description] Digital comic of Ace Attorney characters: Miles Edgeworth, Cody Hackins, Maya Fey, and Pearl Fey.

Page one: Colorful, blurred image of Amusement park’s entrance. People are walking around. Text: “Amusement Park: Steel Samurai special event.” Miles is walking and is internally excited. There are people walking around behind him. Miles’ thoughts: “They’re giving out exclusive Steel Samurai merchandise today! Yippie! Yippie!” There is a small drawing of Miles in his thought excitedly moving his hands up and down. Text box: “Bought a pass one month in advance.”

Page two: Cody yells “Hey, Pops with the frilly thing!!” Miles is surprised and turns around to see an upset Cody standing behind him. Cody, point at Miles: What are you doing here?! Don’t tell me something bad happened again!” Miles frantically tries to explain, “Wha— Ergh! Nothing happened- I’m just…” Cody interrupts him, and stomps his foot. Cody: “Yeah right! Why are you here then?!” Miles: “Ghk!” Maya is off screen and calls out to Miles, “Ah! It’s Edgeworth! And Cody!” Miles and Cody turns towards her.

Page three: Maya and Pearl are walking up to them. Maya is smiling and Pearl is shyly holding Maya’s hand. Maya: “What are you doing here, Edgeworth?” Pearl: “Hello, Mr. Edgeworth.” Maya, snickering: “Maybe you’re here because a “certain someone” is in today’s stage play?” Miles is embarrassed, clenching his jaw and his eyes are closed. Behind him are texts: “Why does this happen every time? I just want to enjoy the show in peace, ALONE. I knew I should’ve worn the disguise today!” There is a little drawing of Miles with “said disguise”. He is fixing his sunglasses with his right hand and a black coat over his usual suit. The kids start approaching Miles. Maya with a mischievous smile: “Aww, don’t be embarrassed! I love Steel Samurai, too!” Pearl: “Me, too!” Cody with his hands raised to his chest: “What?! You like Steel Samurai, too, Pops?!” Miles is backing away, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Page four: Two sketches of different scenes. Miles is paying for everyone’s food. Behind him, Maya has one arm raised over her head: “Yay~!! Thanks, Edgeworth!” Pearl is holding onto Maya’s arm: “Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth!” Cody has his hands raised to his chest again “You’re not so bad after all, Pops!” Second sketch: Miles is facing an off screen worker with a glare. “Excuse me. She asked for no pickles.” Pearl is behind him with tears in her eyes and she is holding her hands up to her chest. Maya and Cody are sitting at a table eating burgers. Maya is looking at Pearl with worry. End description.]

I wanted to have the Steel Samurai fans hang out 🥺🤲 They probably discuss a bunch of facts and share their interpretations about it together.

Miles does not know how to interact with kids, that’s for sure LOL Maya making fun of Miles for his crush on WP is now my favorite thing (There was supposed to be a whole scene with PowersWorth, but maybe another time)🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ I’m assuming Pearl got into Steel Samurai because Maya likes it!

Also, I really like how the anime emphasizes Cody’s impact on Miles. I feel like he was the catalyst for Miles to change. And the scenes of Miles struggling (and losing) against Cody in the games were very cute 🥹

#image description #described #ace attorney #ace attorney fanart #miles edgeworth #cody hackins #maya fey #pearl fey #art #digital art #my art #comic #SinnaArt

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girlthatsinsane · 4 months ago

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ATTENTION

carl grimes x reader

summary: you want his attention

tags: smut, p in v, praise (kinda)

you sat there in his lap in nothing but you panties, legs on each side of him moving desperately against his body, but he stays seated in his chair. carl was playing video games, he has been for hours on end, which meant no attention for you.

but today was so hard for you to tolerate his lack of focus on you, you’ve been so unbelievably horny all day. thats why you ended up here, grinding against his dick that was still in his boxers.

“carl, i want you” you whine rolling your hips down on his. “i need you”. he knows how needy you get, how bad you want him. but instead of just helping you get off, he decides to make you do it yourself instead. your fingers hook onto the hem of his boxers, pulling them down to reveal his dick, already hard from the movements you made on it.

you grab his dick, earning a gasp out of him. but he stayed paying no attention, eyes glued to the video games in front of you two. it killed you that he wasn’t focused on you, but you were too far gone to stop now. moving your panties to the side, carl groans as you sink down onto his cock coating it with your slick, whimpering as you do so.

“thats it baby, get yourself off for me, think you can do that?” he grunts feeling your hole tighten around him. you rock your hips back and forth, feeling him so deep inside you, making moans spill out of you. you shake your head up and down, to respond as you move so desperately around him. “y-yes..” you agree quietly.

he leans back in his chair, giving you more access to move as you try to lift yourself up and down on him. you feel his dick twitch at the feeling if your walls sliding up and down on him, pretty noises fall from your lips as you try to ride out your feeling of bliss. his head tilts, not taking his focus off the game he’s playing, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him as you use him for your pleasure.

you feel the knot in your stomach forming, making you bounce faster on him not containing the whimpers and occasionally moaning his name. carl notices this, his head tilts and laughs at how needy you sound, and look. “so eager to finish, aren’t you?” he teased, bucking his hips up adding onto your pleasure. “please, carl, please.” you moan in response feeling yourself get closer and closer.

you move your hand down to your clit, drawing circles on it, tightening around his dick making him groan at the feeling. “you gonna cum on my dick? fuck baby, just want all my attention.” he growled. your mouth drops at the sound of his voice, hearing him made all of it so much better, and he knew that. you grip onto his shoulders, not even warning him before you came all over his dick. your legs shake at the feeling, your body calming down in the process.

you let out a breath, planting your head in the crook of his neck trying to manage your breathing. you feel both of his hands go to your hips, gasping as he twisted you down on him. his eyes looks dark and blown with lust, he looks you up and down licking his lips.

he thrusted into her again. “okay baby, you have my attention now.”

a/n: hiii its short but i hope u like this, i’m running out of ideas to write about lol. xo

ps u can request if u want & so i don’t feel like a loser :3

505 notes · View notes

potatoplace · 7 days ago

Text

this is me trying

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

The Afterthought: Chapter 3 | series masterlist

part 2 | part 4 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: The day after your birthday is spent shopping for Solstice presents and a surprisingly pleasant conversation with one of your sisters. Winter Solstice proves to be a pleasant affair for you this year.

Warnings: self worth issues, discovering bisexuality, honestly there's not much here, it's a fairly fluffy chapter, lemme know if I missed something

Words: ~8.2k

Author's Note: here it is! It's only like... half of what I wanted to cover in this chapter, but I'm happy with what I've written. I hope you all like it! It's a bit nicer of a chapter, mainly fluff-ish with very little angst imo. (It's a lot nicer than I'd planned to be... lol) enjoooyyyy 🫶

18+ only pls

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You woke when the sky was still dark, the house beneath you quiet. Your body was still aching, the sharp pains having woken you from your dream of the cabin and your father.

Forcing yourself from the tub, you pulled your bedding back to its rightful place and drew a bath. The steaming hot water was the perfect remedy along with your fingers rubbing gentle circles over your lower abdomen.

The sky was just beginning to lighten when you dragged yourself from the bath and dressed, resolving to do you skincare when you returned from your mission.

Shopping for Feyre's birthday and Solstice was your one true goal for the day, and then you could hibernate for the two days before Solstice.

Your eyes roved over the stack of presents on your desk, catching on something you hadn't expected.

A plate with a piece of white chocolate raspberrry cake, a single candle sticking out of the slice. Along with it was a matchbook and a note. You tried to read it, but only got as far as deciphering who it was from- Feyre, from the signature at the bottom. Most likely an apology of some sort, but you could wait to have someone read it for you.

You turned your eyes to the cookbooks your sisters had gifted you. A sigh escaped your lips, and you walked over to look at them once more. The dessert book Elain had gifted you would be helpful for your gifting ideas- you wanted to give each couple, Mor and Azriel a box full of their favorite cookies and sweets.

Personal gifts would only be for Feyre, Mor and Azriel, seeing as it was Feyre's birthday, and Mor and Azriel had picked out more personal gifts for your own birthday. And of course Nuala and Cerridwen, you had always appreciated their willingness to share some of the cooking duties with you.

Mind settling back on the cookbook that Elain had given you, you flipped through it, attempting to identify everyone's favorites by the drawings accompanying the recipes.

Your head was starting to hurt.

A shake of your head and you closed the book, opting instead to tug on your coat and a hat, grabbing the cookbook before leaving your room, shutting the door behind you quietly.

Before you set out into the wintery city, you stopped by Nuala and Cerridwen's room, a soft knock on their door enough to have Nuala opening it.

"Could I come in?" You asked softly, trying to avoid waking those sleeping down the hall.

"Of course, Y/N," Nuala said with a smile, opening the door wider to let you slip inside, eyes catching sight of the book in your hands. "Did you need help reading a recipe?"

"Not quite, well... Yes, but I would also really appreciate if the two of you could help me find the recipes I need for Solstice presents, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Oh, I'd love to!" Cerridwen said once she had emerged from the bathroom, a towel still wrapped in her hair to dry. "Oo, a book of Solar Court desserts! I haven't seen this one before," the wraith said excitedly once she looked over the cover of the book. "Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"I was hoping we could find recipes for everyone's favorites, I'd like for all of them to have something they like. And maybe sugar cookies too, that could be decorated for Solstice."

"Ah, a challenge," Nuala smirked, a glimmer in her eyes. "Did you happen to want a little *help* making all of this?" She asked hopefully.

"If the two of you wouldn't mind, that would be lovely. But don't feel like you have to, please."

"Anything to help you out and spend a bit more time with you Y/N, it's been lonely cooking without you recently," Cerridwen reassured you, a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Now, let's get to finding those recipes, and Nuala and I will go shopping for any ingredients we'll need tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

You beamed at the twins, happy that they weren't upset at you disappearing on them for three weeks. "I would be so grateful to the two of you if you could help out. Thank you so much!"

The three of you sat down on Nuala's bed, flicking through the cookbook and marking each page that had a recipe you would need.

For Nesta, you would make thumbprint cookies with a blackberry jam- a dessert she had enjoyed since childhood, one that she had stared at hungrily for so long while your family had been impoverished. And for her mate, Cassian, you would bake lemon bars. He had absolutely devoured some at the Summer Solstice celebration this year, only leaving a few for everyone else.

Elain you would give chocolate dipped lacy cookies, her favorite treat to have with tea. Lucien would be receiving snickerdoodles, his favorite cookie and the first thing that Elain had baked for him.

Feyre absolutely adored thin lemon-ginger cookies, and with any possible morning sickness or nausea they could be a simple enough treat for her to have. For Rhys you would be making chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, made from his mother's recipe which Cerridwen had carefully tucked a copy of into the back of the cookbook for you to hold on to.

Mor would be getting lavender and pistachio macarons, snickerdoodles, and peanut butter fudge- the last you recipe you had stumbled across in the back of the book, and you knew it would be perfect for Azriel as well. For him you would be making the peanut butter fudge as well as a mint chocolate fudge, lemon bars, and peanut butter cookies. You hadn't seen him eat many sweets, but when he did they seemed to be either peanut butter, lemon, or mint, and you wanted to cover your bases.

And for everyone, and to give the three of you something to decorate, you would be making sugar cookies, hopefully in shapes resembling trees, ornaments, snowmen- really anything that would scream winter.

With the recipes picked out, the book left in the their care, and the twins' promise to gather the supplies, you set out for the Rainbow, in search of a present for Feyre.

The streets were quiet as you walked past rows of houses and apartments, the snow on the ground muffling everything.

It was easy to find the store you needed for the present you had in mind, the wood and paint scented air greeting you when you stepped inside. You glanced around, trying to familiarize yourself with the shop.

On your left was a wall of easels and canvases, the right taken up by every color of paint imaginable. You went to the left first after picking up a basket, setting nine small, square canvases inside before turning your eyes to look for rope and fasteners to connect all of them together. Your idea was for her to be able to paint one square per month of pregnancy, something to remember how she felt carrying her child.

"Did you need help finding something, love?" A female voice asked from the back of the shop, startling you out of your thoughts. You whipped around, eyes met with the sight of a beautiful fae, her skin shimmering in the light, constantly changing between the colors of the rainbow as she moved beneath it.

You managed to catch yourself from staring at her, your manners kicking in as you met her eyes- bright orange now, but you had a feeling that they would also change hue in different settings, the color shifting from a light sunrise to a burnt orange already.

"I was hoping to find some kind of rope to connect all of these, and something to fasten them to the actual canvas, if you have them," you replied shyly, your heart rate picking up as she came closer to you.

She was so pretty. You felt like you had months ago, staring at Cassian. But that was-

"I certainly do, love! They're on the other end of the shop, come with me," the fae said, her cool hand grasping yours and gently tugging you along with her. "What pattern were you wanting to put them in?"

"Uhm..." You tried to restart you brain, repeating the question in your head until you found its answer. "A three by three grid, I think."

She picked out several pieces of rope, as well as a small bag filled with pronged pieces of metal. "This should be enough of both, but if you need more you know where to find them now!" You nodded and followed her as she made her way to the counter in the back. "My name is Irina, by the way," she said as she bagged your items and wrote out a receipt.

"I'm Y/N." Just introducing yourself made your face flush, your mind replaying her name as you watched her fingers write.

"Oh, Feyre's sister?" Irina asked you, her eyes flicking up to meet yours once again. You nodded in confirmation, and she smiled. "I was wondering when I might happen across the youngest, I've already met your other sisters as well. Feyre's studio is just a few buildings down, and she comes in quite often for supplies. How has Velaris treated you so far?"

"Oh, uhm... It's a lovely city, truly. How... How much do I owe you?" You asked, trying to steer the conversation to a more pleasant topic.

"Eight gold marks, but I've already charged the account on file for you, Y/N."

You gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Irina. You have a beautiful shop here, I can see why Feyre comes in."

"Why thank you, Y/N! I'm very proud of it, and even more proud that our High Lady chooses my paints to use for her masterpieces," Irina sighed happily. "I hope the rest of your shopping goes well, love."

"I'm sure it will, thank you," you said with a smile before turning and slowly exiting her shop, your heart still racing from her presence.

You walked lazily through the Rainbow, eyes glossing over beautiful paintings and woven tapestries. You had nearly reached the end of it, almost in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf when you saw a stall that truly caught you eye.

Hairpins.

As children, the one purely material thing that you and Feyre had yearned for were hairpins. A woman in the village had made them by hand, delicate sticks with delicately crafted flowers attached to one end, sometimes with small gems dangling on short chains. They were far out of your price range while destitute, and you had almost entirely forgotten about your desire for one after your family had regained their fortune.

The ones from the village paled in comparison to these absolute works of art, lifelike flowers made of gems with matching petals dripping from them, secured only by small metal chains. Some had strings of pearls falling from them, others with a chain of sparkling diamonds.

You approached the stall, fingers hovering over the beautiful hairpins, but you were too afraid to touch them.

"Hello," the female behind the stall said, her silver skin shining, even shaded from the winter sun that had started shining brightly while you had been in Irina's shop. "Were you looking to buy a hairpin today?"

You smiled bashfully at her. "I might be, I'm not sure yet. They are absolutely beautiful, though."

The female beamed at you. "Thank you very much. They also double as a dagger, if needed," she said, pulling a thin sheath off of one of the hairpins, revealing a thin, sharp piece of ash wood. "They only open for the person it belongs to, so long as you place a small dot of blood on the sheath, it will appear as a simple hairpin. They're rather handy, for us females to keep around..." she trailed off.

Having something... Something to protect you could be nice, even if it wouldn't be much help in the end. But for peace of mind... And it could be nice for Feyre to have one, in case her magic is drained from her somehow...

Your eyes trailed back down to the hairpin that had drawn you to the stall.

A silver sheath with pink hydrangeas on the end, tiny flowers dripping down a short chain, tinier diamonds filling in the spaces between them. It was absolute perfection.

Another silver hairpin drew your eyes, this one with crescent moon at the end, a large sapphire hanging between its edges. Dangling from its bottom edge were two chains that met an inch down to continue as one, covered in small sapphires and glittering diamonds. Very Feyre.

"I'll take the both of these, please," you said as you lightly tapped both of them, not quite trusting yourself to hold them and not drop them.

"Ah, those are two lovely picks. May I ask who they are for?"

"The flowers are for me, the moon for my sister," you answered, watching as she carefully placed each in a velvet bag.

"What account would you like to credit it to?" She asked once she had tied off the bags, opening up the thick ledger next to her.

"Uh... Y/N Archeron, I suppose?"

"Ahh, the High Lady's human sister! If the crescent pin is for her, you chose perfectly," she said with a wink as she handed the hairpins to you.

Your nose scrunched as you smiled, "It is, and I thought so as well. Thank you so much...?"

"Opal. I'm always happy to sell my work to appreciative eyes," she said with a sparkle in her eyes.

"I may be back for another, at some point. Have a happy Solstice," you said cheerily as you left her stall, walking carefully after you spotted a patch of gleaming ice.

"The same to you, Y/N!"

The Palace of Hoof and Leaf proved perfect for finding tins for the sweets you would be baking, with an entire store dedicated to gift boxes.

Nesta and Cassian would be receiving one with a scene of the Illyrian mountains, a blazing bonfire the centerpiece, flanked by said mountains in the distance. For Elain and Lucien you picked a scene reminiscent of spring, a pond surrounded by trees with a clearing in front of it. In the clearing is a small, brown bunny, watched from bushes by a red fox. Very fitting, considering how Feyre always called Lucien a fox.

Rhys and Feyre would be getting a box decorated with the three peaks of Ramiel in the dead of night, a bright silver moon and speckles of stars lighting the sky. Perfect for the High Lord and Lady of Night.

Mor is receiving a tin with the view of Velaris at night from the House of Wind, what she had told you was her favorite view of the city.

And for Azriel, you chose one covered by a view of the sea from the cliffs of Velaris, late into a sunset.

You were satisfied with your choices, and left the Palace to cross the river and enter the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

Here, you found most everything else that you needed.

For Nuala, you got a new set of embroidery hoops as you had noticed hers were a bit worn, and truly she could never have enough seeing how many projects she had going at all times. In the same shop you picked out a variety of threads, including a selection of metal threads as she had mentioned a month or two ago that she wanted to try using them.

Before you left, you picked up a few skeins of soft yarn in jewel shades for Cerridwen, as well as a pair of knitting needles that were charmed to not lose any stitches if you accidentally dropped them.

You wandered further into the Palace, eyes grazing over beautiful gowns and spools of fabrics before they caught on something.

Red leather thigh high boots, a pair of matching gloves displayed in the same window.

That was a perfect present for Mor. You had even seen her in a pair of similar boots in black, so you knew they were her style.

And red. Her absolute favorite.

The boots and gloves were purchased quickly, tucked into a bag that you slung over you arm with the other two. You continued your journey, looking now for something for Azriel.

Quickly though, you found another present for the twins. A nice apron for both of them, one in a pale golden color with a silver moon and stars embroidered along the chest for Nuala, and a midnight blue apron, with similar silver stitching for Cerridwen. A nice apron always made you happy, and these ones seemed cute enough and close enough to each twin's typical color palette that they might wear them.

You ended up finding a nicely bound pale blue diary, almost the exact shade of Feyre's eyes.

If she was going to document her pregnancy in paint, she may as well have the option to document it in writing.

You explored the last few buildings of the Palace before giving up on a gift for Azriel from the shops it contained. You'd rarely seen him in anything but his Illyrian leathers, so you couldn't pick out a piece of clothing that you knew he would like. And he seemed to have all the gloves he would need, nearly always having a pair on hand.

The only thing you could think of...

Perfect!

You made your way back across the Sidra, through the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, and passed through the Rainbow before landing in the Palace of Flame and Steel.

You were searching for a dagger.

The Shadowsinger always had a dagger on him, if not an entire belt of them. Surely he could always use one more?

Twenty minutes spent wandering through the Palace had you shivering and slightly frustrated. Nothing seemed right for him, the hilts either entirely plain or completely encrusted in jewels.

While you were sure the plain would be just fine, you wanted something that seemed like him.

Not that you knew him very well.

You frowned as you entered a shop, its display window filled with knives, swords, and axes. Warm air rushed over you, smoothing your smile into a neutral expression as you took in the overwhelming amount of weapons inside.

An entire side of the shop was dedicated to knives and short swords, which you immediately gravitated towards.

There was some of the same fare you had seen outside, yes, but most of the knives had subtly decorated hilts, a good middle ground in your opinion.

You picked over them carefully with your eyes, trying to find one that Azriel may actually like to have. It was difficult, but you finally found one that you thought he might like. Fairly simple, a five inch blade with a black leather hilt, a small sapphire crescent moon on both ends of it. The gems matched his many siphons, and the knife came with a plain black leather sheath, a metal clip on one end so he could attach it to a belt if he wanted.

Your final purchase completed, you trudged back to the River House, taking as long as you could. You knew at this point that people would be awake and buzzing about, and you hardly wanted to speak with any of them. All you wanted was to put your Solstice presents away, make some tea in the new pot Azriel had gifted you, and eat the slice of cake that had been brought to your room some time last night.

Still, you dragged yourself back inside, shaking the snow off of your boots before you shut the door behind you. Quiet chatter was coming from the living room, but you paid it no mind as you snuck upstairs, shutting the door behind you softly.

The bags of presents were slid underneath the bed for safekeeping and to be away from any prying eyes. The only thing you kept out was your hairpin, the velvet bag soft as sin beneath your fingertips.

Should you...? Yes.

You shrugged off your hat and put it back in its spot, then your coat and replaced it on its hanger, leaving you in your dark blue wool dress and winter boots. Those were next, changed instead to your warm and fuzzy pink slippers.

Gently, you used the inside of the hairpin to prick your finger, and after replacing the sheath placed a drop of blood onto the metal, which sunk into it a moment later.

You went into the bathroom, your brand new hairpin in hand, and brushed out your hair. It took a couple of tries, but soon enough you had your hair secured in a bun, hairpin stuck through the middle. The petal chain hung down, and the sight of it in your hair made you tear up a bit.

Leaving the bathroom and going to your desk, you picked out a tea from the sampler that Azriel had gifted you, this one a strawberry green tea. You then pulled your new teapot and cups out of their box and braved the walk downstairs to the kitchen with all the items you needed for your relaxing afternoon, hopefully followed by a restful sleep.

When you entered the kitchen, it was blissfully empty, the rest of your family seemingly chatting in the living room, the buzz of which you could just barely hear.

Water was set to boil and you quickly washed the teapot and cups, a dish towel drying them just before the water began to boil. Tea leaves were poured into the strainer, hot water poured slowly and evenly over them.

It could almost be an art, you think.

"Oh, Y/N," Feyre said from behind you, just as you set the kettle back on the stove. "Could we- could I join you for tea? In your room I would guess?"

Lip between your teeth, you thought on it. As far as you could tell, Feyre hadn't wanted your birthday to turn into her pregnancy celebration. She had noticed you hadn't had cake...

"I suppose. For a cup," you replied, attempting to set a boundary with her.

Feyre nodded her head in agreement, a soft smile on her face as she watched you place two cups on a tray, the other two finding a place together in a cupboard. You waited another minute before removing the leaves, emptying the strainer and washing it. Once the pot of tea was on the tray, the two of you went up the stairs and into your room.

The tray went on your dresser, and you gestured for Feyre to take the squishy armchair in the corner of the room as you poured tea for the both of you. You passed Feyre her cup before pulling the chair at your desk over to her and sitting, your own cup of tea in hand. A cramp rippled through you, but you forced down any discomfort so that you could get this conversation out of the way.

"How are you feeling? Any morning sickness at all?" You asked Feyre, blowing on your tea after.

"A bit, but I've been having some ginger tea as soon as I wake up, and that seems to have helped." Feyre paused, taking a sip of her tea. "Mm, I like this one. Is it one that Azriel got you?" You nodded, taking your own sip. It was good. "And the tea set he got you is really pretty. I... I really didn't want for your birthday to end that way, Y/N. We tried to hide my scent but I guess something went wrong or... I don't know, but I feel so bad that we ignored you again," Feyre said tearily. "I really didn't want that to happen, I swear."

You sighed as you looked at her. You had already suspected it, but it still hurts. "I know you didn't Feyre, but it's still... It wasn't fair to me."

"I know it wasn't. I'm so sorry, I don't... I don't know how to make it up to you," she said quietly. "I... We're all going up to the cabin the day before Solstice, and staying through the night of Solstice. Did you... Did you want to come? Or you could stay here, if you'd prefer. I know last year was... Well, Nesta..."

Your mouth fell into a straight line as you thought back on last Solstice.

An absolute nightmare.

Nesta had been overly aggressive to you, still fully controlled by her rage and new mating bond. And just, overall, you had felt so out of place and unwelcome in the otherwise cozy cabin.

And on your cycle? Contained to an even smaller area?

"I'd rather not, if that's... If it's alright with you, Feyre," you said hesitantly, taking a nervous sip of tea after you finished speaking.

Feyre nodded her head in understanding. "I thought you might not, so I have one small ask: Would you be willing to have lunch with me on Solstice? I still want to see you, and spend time with you, if you'd like?"

The request was something you hadn't expected from your sister. Lunch?

"I think... I think that would be nice, Feyre. I'd like that."

Feyre's expression lightened at your acceptance, though her eyes still held unshed tears. "Really? Oh, thank you Y/N, I'm so excited to spend some one on one time with you!" Feyre said, as close to a squeal as you thought she would ever get. "And I do have a Solstice present for you too, I wanted to make sure you were celebrated then too." Feyre finished off her cup of tea and stood, placing it on the tray before standing in front of you. "Could I... Have a hug?"

A small smile played on your lips from the hesitant way she asked. You simply stood from your chair and set down your teacup before pushing yourself into her arms, savoring the warmth of her as you held each other.

"I'm looking forward to it too, Feyre. And I have a few presents for you too, so we can do a little exchange," you said once you pulled away from her. You looked at her- really looked at her. Your smile grew. "You're pregnant!"

Feyre was grinning as the tears finally fell from her eyes. "I am! I never thought- I never thought I would find a man that I would actually like enough, Y/N," she confessed through her tears.

"I know you didn't, Fey. I'm so happy you found Rhys."

The two of you embraced again, this time in joy of her expected child.

"Well, I should get back to work, I think. I've been planning an after-Solstice revel for the Hewn City as a way of breaking some of the barriers between us, but dealing with Kier..." Feyre sighed. "He's such a pain, but I don't truly have anything against the other citizens, so I'm pushing through. You're welcome to come, if you'd like?"

You instantly shook your head. "No, the one time I went I was so uncomfortable, I think I'd rather hear about any drama after, please."

Feyre's head bobbed. "I thought that might be the case. No worries there, sissy, but... You will come to Starfall, yes?"

"I'll be at Starfall, Fey, don't worry," you reassured her as the two of you made your way to your bedroom door. "Good luck with the planning, from what Mor has said about Keir he's... kind of the worst, right?"

Feyre chuckled. "He definitely is, Y/N. I'll see you later."

"See you later, Fey," you said, watching as she walked down the hallway. Your door shut softly, and you returned to your tray of tea.

One more cup, and you would do your skincare. And a bit of cake, as well.

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Two days later and the Inner Circle was departing for the winter wonderland of a cabin Rhys had, and you were in the living room seeing them off with Nuala and Cerridwen.

"Have a good time!" You said cheerily, mainly to Feyre and Mor.

"Oh, I'm sure we will," Feyre laughed, sending a mischievous look to her mate before turning back to you. "I'll see you tomorrow at noon, right?"

You nodded in agreement. "Definitely, Fey."

"Good! Have a good day here, you two take care of her, alright?" Feyre asked the twins, who nodded enthusiastically. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

She and Rhys winnowed off, taking Cassian and Nesta with them, along with their bags.

"Y/N, I had an idea, if you're up for it?" Mor asked once they had left, taking Feyre's previous spot in front of you.

"Depends on what it is, Mor."

"Well, I thought that I could come back ahead of everyone else tomorrow night, and the two of us could have a cozy little sleepover! Lots of hot cocoa, chocolate, staying up all night talking. How does that sound?"

You grinned at her, so happy to have her as a friend. "I would love that Mor!"

"Perfect! I'll most likely be back before dinner, but I will send a note if I'm going to be late." Mor's expression matched your own as she turned to leave, taking Elain, Lucien, and Azriel with her as she winnowed.

And then you were alone with the twins in the River House, much quieter than it had been all morning.

"So... Are you two fine with starting to bake now?" You asked both of them.

"That sounds perfect, Y/N!" Nuala said, clapping her hands together.

"We do have a Solstice present that we'd like to give you early, though," Cerridwen offered.

You thought back to the aprons you had gotten for the two of them. "In that case, I have one for each of you as well."

"Meet in the kitchen in five minutes?" Nuala asked.

"That sounds fine," you said, already rushing over to the stairs.

As promised, the three of you reconvened in the kitchen a few minutes later, all of you holding presents behind your backs.

You passed the two gift bags over to them, and they both handed you a small box.

They insisted that you go first, so you carefully opened the wrapping paper, then the boxes, met with your own set of pink measuring cups and spoons, their size engraved into the handles in the first box. In the second was something that looked similar to a magnifying glass, but the twins showed you its use quickly by having it hover over the recipe book Elain had gifted you.

The glass read out the title, "Decadent Desserts of the Solar Courts of Prythian," and tears filled your eyes.

"It will help you read recipes, or notes, anything really, if the two of us aren't available. We thought it would be a nice gift, seeing how your family has forgotten to teach you to read. This way, you can teach yourself," Nuala explained softly as she passed the glass back to you.

"Not that we wouldn't love to teach you, but... I don't think your feelings about that have changed yet, right?" Cerridwen asked.

You wiped the tears from your eyes as you nodded. "Yes, but this is... This is such a fantastic gift, thank you both so much." You wrapped your arms around the two of them, feeling like you were embracing sisters. "Go ahead and open your presents, I know they aren't much-"

"Oh nonsense!" Nuala interrupted you as she pulled out her apron, running her shadowy fingers over the golden fabric. "This is beautiful, Y/N!"

"I love it, oh, look! They have matching embroidery, Nuala!" Cerridwen said excitedly, running her fingers over the stitching. "These are just perfect, Y/N, thank you." It was your turn to be embraced by them, and you gladly soaked in their kind words and true enjoyment of the present you had gotten them.

"Now that we have presents done, should we get to baking?" You asked, already moving to pull out mixing bowls.

"There's no time like the present," Nuala said, and the two of them sprung into action, grabbing necessary ingredients and cookie sheets.

Baking with the two of them was a wonderful experience, as it always was, but today felt a bit different.

It felt like you were finally having the family holiday time you had craved, baking for Solstice with both of the twins.

The time flew by, and by the end of the day the three of you had made nearly everything you had wanted for tomorrow, the only sweet left unfinished was the sugar cookies. The dough for those was left in the cold box, and all of the other sweets were left on the counters overnight.

Together, the three of you made and enjoyed a hot meal, and ended the night sipping tea and eating a few of the goodies you had made earlier.

The next morning was easy, pleasant as you cut out little trees, ornaments, stockings. You all giggled over your attempts to make an Illyrian cookie, which turned out more like winged blobs.

While they were cooling, Nuala and Cerridwen made frostings in every color possible, and you packed up the tins of sweets for your family members.

Nuala helped you write out little notes of well wishes for each couple, and an extra one for Mor and Azriel stating that you had an extra Solstice present for them that you would give them in person.

And with the presents out of the way, the three of you decorated sugar cookies for the rest of the morning, the color schemes and designs getting more and more questionable as time went on.

That's how Feyre found you at noon, walking into the kitchen after winnowing back from the cabin.

"Feyre!" You exclaimed, dashing around the counter to pull her into your arms. "Happy birthday! Do you feel any older yet?"

"Thank you Y/N," Feyre giggled, squeezing you back. "Not yet, I still feel like a baby."

"Well, you are a baby still, Fey. At least compared to most of Velaris," you said cheekily, smiling when she swatted your shoulder gently.

"Yes well... This baby and my baby are hungry, are you ready to leave for lunch?"

You nodded. "Let me get my coat and boots on, and then we can go."

"Okay, I'll be here," Feyre smiled, and then her eyes locked on the cookies. "Can I have one?"

"Of course you can have one Fey, you're the birthday girl after all!" You said before you left the room, hurrying up the stairs to grab your outerwear.

By the time you returned to the kitchen, Feyre was sitting on a stool, decorating a cookie with precise strokes, turning one of the blobby cookies into something that resembled Rhys.

"That's a pretty cookie, Fey."

Feyre's head snapped up from where she had been entirely focused on her decorating. A light blush dusted her cheeks as she said, "Thank you, sissy. The girls told me you all tried to make Illyrians, and I thought they were just too cute to not do one of Rhysie."

"Well, you did a lovely job. Shall we go?"

Feyre nodded and stood from her stool, licking a small bit of frosting off of her thumb. "You made some really good cookies, Y/N. Are all of the tins filled with them?"

You shook your head. "No, they're filled with everyone's favorites, the sugar cookies were more for everyone. When you go back to the cabin, would you be able to take them with you? If not, I can give them out tomorrow."

The two of you walked to the front door, you opening it for Feyre and shutting it behind you. "I should be able to manage that just fine, sissy. Now, I was thinking we could go to Arlina's, I feel like pasta."

"Pasta sounds nice," you replied, letting Feyre lead you at a leisurely pace, locked arm in arm as the two of you took in the snow covered city.

Arlina's was a cozy little bistro only a few blocks away from the River House, tucked between some apartment buildings. You had been there once before, a few months after you had been brought to Velaris.

Once the two of you were seated across from each other in a booth, you pretended to look over the menu, but you already knew you would be getting the same thing you had last time. It had been very good, and you also wouldn't have to ask for help reading the menu...

The food was as good as you remembered, and your and Feyre's conversation stayed light, mainly focused on Feyre's duties and her hopes for her future, now that she has a little one on the way. You preferred talking about her, talking about your life right now... Would be a bit of a mood killer. And today was about Feyre.

During dessert- a delicious crème brûlée that you and Feyre shared- Feyre started to fidget.

Not much, but enough that you noticed.

"Yes, Fey?"

Feyre sighed at being caught. "You know how Starfall is coming up?" She asked.

Your narrowed your eyes in suspicion. "Yes?"

"I was hoping that you would go dress shopping with me- us," she corrected. "I want you to feel included, and it would be really nice to go dress shopping as sisters, like we were never able to."

Your first instinct was to say no, but this was Feyre. Feyre, who was sitting across from you and giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

You sighed. "Fine, but can you tell the two of them to behave again? I know that they have... Issues with me, but I would like to feel comfortable in a room with them again at some point."

"Oh, I've already told them to behave. Honestly I should have done it so long ago, it's not fair to you. From now on I'll do my best to make sure you can feel comfortable in the family again, okay?" Feyre said honestly, and you finally believed her.

"Okay. What day were you thinking about going?"

"I was thinking in two days time, I have a few meetings tomorrow, and that revel I was telling you about, so most of us will be busy then."

You nodded your head. Two days. You could prepare yourself for Nesta and Elain's inevitable scrutiny over two days. Especially with your evening plans with Mor tonight. "That sounds fine to me, Fey."

Feyre smiled at you widely before taking another bite of dessert.

🤍💝🩵💝🤍

The rest of your afternoon with Feyre flew by, your short walk back to the River House led to presents.

You had given her her gifts first, soaking in the absolute joy in her eyes when she realized that you had gotten her two gifts for her pregnancy journey, already telling you about what she wanted to paint for the first month. And the hairpin she absolutely adored, promising to wear it tomorrow night to the revel after sealing it with her own drop of blood, as you had with yours.

She had nervously handed over your own Solstice present, an apron that she had made for you. It was in a light pink, with slightly clumsily sown stitching, but you loved it so much. Something that she had made, just for you.

You had bid her goodbye after the two of you decorate a few more cookies, her arms now loaded with two bags, filled with tins of sweets.

You made Nuala and Cerridwen rest while you cleaned up, taking care to get every last bit of dough or sugar off of the counters and each dish cleaned.

After, you retired for your room for a while, a bit of light cramping having you in the bath again, soaking in the heat.

Just a few minutes after you had finished getting dressed, you heard Mor yelling something from downstairs.

With your slippers on, you exited your room and went downstairs, happy to see an excited looking Mor sitting in the living room, a couple of gift bags sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

"Happy Solstice!" The blonde said brightly, bouncing out of her seat to wrap you in her arms.

"Happy Solstice to you too, Mor," you giggled after she let you go, air returning to your lungs. "Did you want to do presents now?" You asked, gesturing to the bags on the table.

"If you'd like, or we could wait a little bit. I'm fine with either!"

"I'll go get yours, then," you said, and did exactly that, returning a few moments later, excitedly shoving a bag into her arms. "Open it!"

Mor did so, gasping when she pulled the boots out, and squealing when she saw the matching gloves. "Oh mother Y/N, these are perfect! Thank you so much!" The blonde exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. A playful look crossed her face, a smirk on her lips as she said, "Do you know what these would be perfect for?" You shook your head. "That stupid revel tomorrow! I'm already wearing this tiny little black dress, and these would look stunning with it."

"That does sound like a good time to debut them, it'll probably drive Keir up the wall," you joked.

"Yes it will," Mor sighed happily. "Now, open your gifts! Honestly I should have given them to you earlier, now that I think about it, but they'll still be useful."

Mor had given you several pairs of underwear, these specifically spelled with cycles in mind, making it so there was no noticeable scent, and also designed to come clean with no staining every time. In the same bag was a square herb filled pack, designed to be heated and kept against your skin as a way of minimizing the pain of cycles. Both were such thoughtful gifts, but you were most excited for the underwear. That meant less scathing looks from your judgmental sisters.

The second bag contained a large assortment of bath products, from bubble bath soap to deliciously scented bar soaps, to salt mixes that were supposed to help with aching muscles. She had managed to fit in a bath pillow, one that's able to get wet without being ruined, as well as a few face masks that appeared to lay over your face.

"Mor, these are such wonderful presents, thank you," you said gratefully, pulling her into a hug.

"I thought you might like them," Mor chuckled. "After all, you can never have too many self-care products in my humble opinion."

"Mhm. Humble," you giggled at her. "Did you have anything specific planned for tonight, or are we winging it?"

"Well, I thought we could do some extra skincare, I've already got an order of food in at Sevenda's- I got you curry." You nodded in approval. "And we can talk about how amazing those macarons you made were!"

You blushed under her gaze. "Nuala and Cerridwen helped..."

"Oh, it was all you, Y/N. I'm sure they helped a bit but you are such a wizard with baking!"

You almost went to deny her praise again, but thought better of it when she narrowed her eyes playfully at you.

"Skincare?"

"Skincare," Mor smiled, and let you lead her up the stairs and to your room.

The evening you spent with Mor was great, the two of you eating your takeout in your bed once it arrived, clay masks on your faces. You talked about the last couple days, Mor complaining about how the citizens of the Hewn City treat her, you opening up about how hurt you were over your sisters' gifts.

"I can't believe they forgot, though, Y/N. That's not something small, and I'm shocked that they haven't attempted to teach you yet..." Mor said disapprovingly. "I could help you, if you'd like?"

You shook your head immediately. "No, I'll be able to teach myself now, with a gift the twins got for me. It reads out the words it passes over, isn't that neat?" You asked, hoping she would understand that you'd rather not speak about the subject much.

"That was very thoughtful of them, I wish I'd thought of it!" Mor sighed. "I do hope that you feel more welcome here, now? Than a few weeks ago, I mean."

You glanced at her, seeing the emotion in her face. "I am, Mor. You've been a big part of it, I hope you know," you said softly.

"Good, I'm glad I can help. And you're just such a lovely person, it's hard not to want to spend time with you."

You blushed once more under her gaze. "Thank you, Mor."

"Any time, love."

The endearment she used had a pretty face flashing in your mind, a question on your tongue.

"Is it..." you trailed off, unsure if you wanted to ask the question.

"Is it... what?"

"Is it... normal...? To... to uhm..." you started nervously. "Is it normal to like girls...?" You asked Mor quietly, half hoping she would ignore your question.

"Like... To like girls as friends, or... To like girls like boys?" Mor asked cautiously.

"The... uhm... Boys."

Mor sighed, but not one of disapproval. You didn't think...

"Of course it's normal to like girls in that way, sweets. Maybe not for everyone, but I know that... I know that I do," Mor answered softly.

You turned your face to her, finding her cheeks pink, maybe for the first time since you had known her. "Really?"

"Yes, I've known for a couple of centuries, now. I still like boys some, but... I do find girls much more interesting." Relief flooded your heart at her words. "Can I... Ask what brought this on?"

"Oh, well... When I went shopping for Solstice presents, I met this really pretty shop owner, Irina? And I... I felt how I used to feel around... Cassian," you admitted.

"Well, Irina is very pretty," Mor said wistfully. "You have good taste," she joked as she nudged you gently with her elbow, getting you to smile.

"I do, don't I?" You giggled, feeling lighter with how accepting and calm she had been. The two of you sat in silence for a minute, before you had an idea. You looked over at Mor, a glint in your eyes. "What do you say to eating far too many cookies and passing out from so much sugar?"

Mor's eyes shined brightly in the candlelight of your room. "I say yes."

The two of you snuck downstairs, even though you didn't need to, it just felt right with the copious amounts of sugar you were about to consume.

You set to making a pot of tea while Mor grabbed a sinful amount of cookies and set them on the tray. She carried everything up to your room, you trailing behind her.

Mor had grabbed all of the sugar cookies that you and the twins had decorated all silly, including several deformed Illyrians that the three of you had attempted to make look like the three in the Inner Circle. Plus one of the ornaments that Cerridwen had written swear words on, claiming that she 'couldn't fit any other words on them.'

After a bit more talking, and all cookies eaten, Mor left your room so the both of you could change, and returned a few minutes later with hot chocolate for the both of you, a mound of whipped cream nearly overflowing from the mug.

"I'm really glad you suggested this, Mor," you said quietly once the two of you had laid down in your bed, all candles extinguished. "It's been really nice."

"I'm glad I did too, Y/N. This is a lot more fun than the bickering that I'm sure happened tonight at the cabin, that lot can never go too long in a confined space without arguing about something," Mor complained lightheartedly.

"You included, Miss Morrigan." Mor scoffed at the implication. "Tell me that you don't enjoy the drama a little, hmm?" She remained silent, and you giggled. "That's what I thought."

"Well, it's not my fault that they're so easy to bicker with..." Mor said sulkily before yawning. "Alright, I'm exhausted. Who knew eating cookies and takeout could be so tiring?"

"Not me," you said, yawning a moment after. "I guess that's our cue to try and sleep," you laughed.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Mor said quietly, her breathing evening out a bit as she tried to sleep.

You tried to do the same, but it took a while, with the now unfamiliar noise of someone sleeping near you. But soon enough, you had drifted off into a peaceful sleep, cushioned comfortably for the first time in months.

🤍💝❤️💝🤍

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