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txtmetonight · 2 days

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Sick ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ You hate being sick. But at least Jay is there to save the day.

pairing *. * Park Jongsong x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ fluff

warnings *. Extreme fluff lol

call duration⋆ ★ 1.8k

a/n*. * I'm so stupid omg. I accidentally queued this to this morning before I even finished it and it was published omgomgomg. if you saw this earlier no you didn't. remember to like and reblog!!

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet

You’re sick. And you hate it.

Your nose is sniffly and red, and you’re in dying need of something to cool you down before you pass out. And your teacher’s constant talking isn’t really helping your ever-growing headache that was starting to sprout. You suppose that it was caused by playing out in the rain yesterday—even after Jay told you not to because you would be sick—but you would hate to admit that because then that would prove that your best friend was right.

Jay was somehow always eerily right though. Like when he said that you liked him as a joke while playing a truth or dare game—he thought that he was fibbing in purely comedic fashion, but your wide eyes and everyone else’s shocked faces said something else.

Blowing a stand of hair from your face, your cheeks feel hot when you place them down onto your arms, slightly groaning as the feverish feeling sends chills down your spine. Your notes were starting to become rather illegible as you tried to write down whatever was on the board, but you eventually gave up.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Chaewon pokes your side with her pencil, receiving no response from your end. “(Y/n)? Helloooo?” You don’t even murmur, instead opting to ignore her. You felt like you were on fire.

“Oh, hey Jay!” Chaewon exclaims excitedly, making you shoot your head and knock down your water bottle to greet the boy, only to find him not there and half the class staring at you for the ruckus you created. The teacher in his pointed glasses glares at you too, and you gulp down in your seat to avoid his killer eyes while pinching your friend in the thigh angrily. She swats at your hand without making much movement. The older man just sighs and returns to his lesson, prompting you to turn to the girl and scold her quietly.

"Chae, what the hell?!”

She shrugs her shoulders and just giggles. “You weren’t answering me.” You roll your eyes and sigh as another wave of sickness jerks your body—you're starting to feel as though the room is starting to spin. Chaewon furrows her brows at your behavior before she places the back of her hand on your neck, wincing when her touch feels too hot to be normal. “You’re burning up. (Y/n) You should go to the nurse.”

You nod sadly at her and slowly gather your supplies. “I guess so.”

When you finally scooch out of your chair and very timidly ask the teacher to go to the nurse (which he then sends you a very nasty look once more), you carefully lug your bookbag with you in a very depressing manner, as if your back were severally hunched over and your feet were dragged on the floor. Still, you were determined to go home and take a much-needed rest, but with the halls moving side to side, you’re not really sure if you could take another step without crumpling down in a heaped mess.

And thankfully, someone must have heard your prayers because suddenly a rather warm hand wraps itself around your waist and holds you upright. The hold is familiar, and even in your dazed state, you find yourself recognizing the tight grip on you, stumbling back from the rush of butterflies in your stomach.

“Let’s get you to the nurse without fainting.”

You let him drag you to the nurse without many complaints, sinking very well into his tender comfort as you sway back and forth. You slightly giggle when he grumbles underneath his breath, reprimanding you from last night. “You never listen to me,” he sighs. “And now I have to go take care of you.”

“Who said that you had to take care of me? I can take care of myself just fine.” You whine. He laughs quite mockingly at you before he loosens his grip just a little. “Right, so if I let you go completely, you would be able to walk fine?”

You shake your head furiously and pinch his biceps. You’re sure you could, but it wouldn’t do much harm if you stayed a tad bit closer to him just for a while, no?

“You’re such a baby,” he chimes, but he leaves you be until you both get to the waiting room. The nurse is in her appointed chair, and then she looks up at you two when the bell above gently dings, letting her know of her new patients.

“Yes, how may I help you two?” Jay doesn’t even let you open your mouth to let you speak. "She's sick.” The lady, well over her middle age, saunters over and pats at the firm mattress as she drags over her thermometer. Your best friend very carefully lets you sit on the green bed, and your cheeks seem to flush a little more when you realize that his fingers on your waist haven’t left you yet.

“Open your mouth—oh, the phone.”

The phone rings just in time, and you curiously watch as the nurse apologizes with her face and picks up the loud tone, holding the device to her ear. Seconds go by, and her face seems to contort into worry in the middle of her blabbering towards what you suppose is another teacher before she cuts the call rather harshly and stands up to her full height, grabbing a first aid kit that was just below her desk.

She then faces you and Jay. “I am so extremely sorry. Gosh, another student had just busted his head open!” Your eyes grow wide at her ramble, exchanging glances with the boy next to you. “If you’re truly sick, because you do look paler than normal, I figure that you could go home. Just check her temperature, I suppose. Do you have anyone to pick you up?”

Your parents had (un)fortunately left you home alone for the week for an important business trip to come. And so, you shake your head. “No–”

“It’s fine, I can take her home. It’s almost the end of the school day.”

Turning towards him in his arms, you question him, but he just smiles smugly at you and shrugs his shoulders. The nurse, who seemed in a very quick hurry, doesn’t say anything but instead writes you two an excused note before she’s on her way, closing the door shut in her wake, and a silence consumes the room as you stare at her tray of peppermints. You thought Jay was too, yet when you turn to look at him, his gaze lies on you. Your stomach flips.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to check my temperature or something?” You ask, fiddling with the string of your cardigan. “Oh right…” He very quickly (in a red face that you don’t notice) brings up his hand to your forehead but halts it just before he touches you.

"Wait, hold on, I saw another way that should be more accurate.”

His fingers move to your chin, which he very gently squeezes, and then he places his other hand on top of yours for stability, which he finally (before you can even chide him about his weird credibility) lets his forehead land on against yours, crushing your wrist when you both stare at each other.

You’re going to pass out.

He’s close—like super close—as he nudges your head a little bit more, and you feel like your heart is thrumming loudly against your chest, your face is heating up even more, and you assume that you look like you’ve fallen into a clutter of bashfulness.

Jay’s cologne invades your senses while your nails seem to dig into your back more, but not once does he flinch, choosing to let his eyes flicker down to your lips just before he smiles softly.

“You definitely have a fever.” He then pulls himself off you as if whatever stunt he just pulled was just completely normal. You’re not sure if you’re going crazy, but your gut seems to be riding its own roller-coaster—words that you’ve meant to confess on the tip of your tongue while you stare at him weakly.

Jay’s going to be the death of you.

"What the–where did you–huh?”

“I told you; I saw it online. And you’re for sure running a fever. Let’s go.” He tucks his hands under your arms and makes it his priority once more to safely guide you back home, only this time his words consisted of promising you to make his infamous chicken noodle soup.

By the time that you both made it back to your house, there was sweat running down your back, and as you panted in exhaustion from either fighting off the fever or walking, your eyelids drooped heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“Jayyyy” You whine, sighing, when you hand him the keys. He unlocks the door with his one free hand and quickly makes a beeline to your room, muttering apologies for trespassing just before he enters.

He’s fast when he’s determined and always has been; his eyebrows furrowed, his lips casted into a slight frown—he’s utterly too handsome for you. In a daze, you watch him bring over a cold washcloth to put on your head, and for some reason, your heart seems full of him—and you realize that it’s always been filled to the brim for him to take. You’re in love. And ill.

“How’d you know to find me in the hallway earlier?” You ask, your eyes closing when his warm hands lightly pats your cheeks. You can practically see him smiling even with your eyes shut while he proceeds to run his knuckles up and down your collarbone. “I dunno. I think it was my (Y/N) senses.”

You weakly grin at him as you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into a sense of comfort—into the awaiting arms of sleep. Jays knows too, and he places a chaste kiss on your ring finger. “Go to sleep, pretty; I’ll be here when you wake up.” You nod into his touch and a sudden urge of words spill from your mouth.

“Jay I really like you...”

The boy stiffens, his pupils fluttering between your eyes and lips to the point where they break into another round of silly giggling. You’re cute, you really are, and so he can’t help but linger close to where he wants to kiss you.

"Hmmm, I think I need to check your temperature again. I have another way, though. Will you let me try it?”

You snort, “Did you find it online again?”

“Maybe…” He softly settles his lips against yours, not caring once that you were sick. It’s light and mellow, and you feel an air of love and adoration when he pulls back, hovering just above you. “Am I still sick?”

He tilts his head. “I can’t tell for sure. I’ll check again when you wake up.”

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kykyonthemoon · 2 days

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hi, kỳ kỳ!! i hope you're doing well 🤲❤

i just wanted to ask about how rafayel would react and comfort reader who is very insecure about their eyes because it's obviously asymmetrical and can be seen clearly in pictures? thank you so much in advance!!

also, you have a very pretty name 🤲❤

Dear Anon-san,

Thank you so much for the request, and your compliments <3 As a person who isn't so confident with my look, I do feel related so much to the reader/MC here in this fic.

I hope you like this piece too, and sorry it took a while to be published ^^

To anyone who are reading this, remember that you are always beautiful <3

In His Eyes — In his eyes, you are the most flawless creature.

ಇ. Rafayel x Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags: soft fluff, no established relationship yet, comfort, self-esteem issues

ಇ. Word count: 1k1

ಇ. Masterlist

ಇ. A big thanks to Tram Hoang for the cute Rafayel pic. Other pics are from X

You had never felt beautiful.

You had never looked in the mirror for more than three minutes.

You had never kept photos of yourself on the phone.

Since you were never confident with your appearance.

Everything about you was ordinary; which meant, you were not as hideous as a monster, yet not deemed lovely. The most dreadful thing on your body was, tragically, the most visible: your eyes.

They were asymmetrical. One of your eyes was smaller than the other, and it seemed as if the eyelid was dropping. Looking from the side, perhaps no one would notice it, but when facing you directly, they surely could not overlook your unequal eyes. That was also the reason you never dared to look anyone right in the eye.

For they would see how ugly you were.

You also avoided taking photos as much as possible. Looking at other people preserving their bright and happy moments, you only felt sorry for yourself. If only you could be a little more confident, enough to see yourself as beautiful.

That happened before you met him. Rafayel was the most flawless person you'd ever known. Everything about him seemed ethereal and exquisite. His hair, his face, his physique. His eyes. It's almost as if he strolled right out of a painting. And you could spend hours lost in those eyes, when he was not paying attention to you.

That day, as Rafayel and you were in his studio, you noticed a little clicking sound. Rafayel stood in a corner of the room, camera in hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

"I am taking a photograph of you. May I?" Rafayel tilted his head behind the lens and smiled pleasantly at you.

Your heart dropped a beat. You felt both nervous and scared.

“Why do you want to take a photo of me?”

“Because you are very beautiful.”

You never believed what he had just said.

"You're just saying that out of politeness." You shook your head, attempting to dispel any notion that someone as perfect as him would find you charming.

“If it was just out of politeness, I would compliment you by saying, “This shirt really suits you,” or “You look cute with that hairstyle.” When I declare that someone is beautiful, I truly mean it. Just the person, not anything else.”

Your cheeks heated up, contending for the color red with the bouquet of roses in your hands. You acted awkwardly as you placed them on the table. Rafayel had requested you to get some flowers for his new project. You unexpectedly became his reluctant model.

“So? May I take photos of you?”

Rafayel asked sincerely. After a moment of awkwardness, you nodded in agreement. He asked you to hold the bouquet and pose around the studio for him. But, out of habit, you did not dare to stare directly at him.

“Don't constantly turn your head to one side like that. I'm right here.” Rafayel approached as you sat in the chair. His hand raised your chin, forcing you to gaze directly into his eyes. But you lowered your eyes again.

“Um… I don't really like taking pictures…”

“Wait until you see the pictures I took of you. You will definitely think differently.”

You doubted that, but still agreed to let Rafayel take a few more shots of you in front.

Since then, it appeared that he enjoyed photographing you at any time and anywhere. Rafayel consistently stated you were lovely. You merely smiled out of politeness in response. You still lacked the courage to look at the photographs he shot. Every time you were around him, you felt pity within. He was perfect, and you were everything not.

You were hideous. You had low self-esteem. You did not dare to look at him in the way he anticipated. But, like a withered flower suddenly nurtured with sweet words of encouragement every day, you began to think that he saw something blooming in you, and it was beautiful.

"You don't have to lower your head every time you go out with me."

"Hey, you don't need to stand so far away from me. Otherwise, how will you protect me?"

"Look at me. I'm trying to capture your beauty through the lens.”

Day by day, he made you feel like you were the most beautiful creature in his eyes.

He hung all the photos he had taken of you on the corner of the wall in his studio. The photographs were also organized based on the shape of your portrait. You almost fainted with amazement. No one had ever done anything like that for you. No one had ever made you look at your own photos and realize, I'm so pretty!

“I know you don't like your eyes.” Rafayel's voice burst out immediately behind you as he approached. "But I really do."

"Why?…" You spoke as if choking up. You couldn't breathe after what Rafayel had done for you. “They are asymmetrical… They're ugly… My eyes are not perfect…”

Rafayel placed a palm on his chin, seeming puzzled. He looked to the photographs and said:

“What do you see when you look at these? For me, I don't see anything imperfect. I just see a very beautiful girl whose eyes always light up when she's close to me. Here…” His fingers ran over each frame. “This moment was when she arranged flowers for me while singing to herself. This was when she was so focused on her work that she didn't notice that I covertly took a snapshot. And this was taken when she laughed so hard because of the joke I told... I adore staring into her eyes, because I find my reflection in them. Her eyes always reveal her true feelings to me. I wish she would look at me a little longer.”

Rafayel halted. You had tears in the corners of your eyes. You felt you whole body shaking while attempting to suppress your feelings.

“I wish I could show her how amazing she is through my eyes.”

Rafayel's fingertips left the photographs, then delicately stroked your cheek. He drew a soft line below the eye, which you always thought was unattractive. You were about to burst into tears, but still did your best to convey these sincere words:

“Thank you… Thank you so much, Rafayel…”

He pulled you into his arms as your tears began to fall. Tears of happiness. He had helped you find your beauty, helped you love yourself more. Maybe the self-depreciation would not go away right away, but you resolved that from this point on, anytime you felt like resenting something about your body, you would remember every warm word he had for you.

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bellarkeselection · 1 day

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1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s

Part 2

The Venus Muse

Here's the first chapter y'all! I am sorry to say that I couldn't tag some of you that asked to be added. If you could give me an update profile tag I will add you that way.

Buckingham Palace was always busy with something going on. The royal castle had many children over the years running around it. I knew this place better than anyone else could imagine. And that truth will help me change my life forever.

“Your highness, which tiara would you wish for today?” One of my handmaidens named Sunset asked me.

She was standing by my table vanity that had quite a few tiaras sitting on top of them. Sitting on my bed the fabric of my golden dress swayed when I walked up to her. “The one with three center jewels and the pearl necklace.”

“Of course, my lady.” She nodded where I lowered my head and she set the tiara in the center.

The tiara sparkled when the light bounced off the light coming through the window. I stood in front of the tall mirror eyeing my gown that was golden, short sleeves decorated in lace and was long where you couldn’t see the short brown boots I wore unless my dress flew up from the wind. “Sunset, do you think my mother shall begin pressuring me this year?”

“It is not my place to speak on.”

I reassured her otherwise. “Don’t worry about prying ears. I am asking for your opinion.”

“I would say she seeks what is best for you, Lady Y/n.” Sunset answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

Someone knocked on the outside of my door before another lady in waiting peaked her head inside. “Princess, your mother is coming this direction.” I nodded brushing my hands down the front of my dress.

The door of my bedroom opened for me to see my mother, Lady Danbury and Brimsley all walking up to my room. “I yearn for someone fresh, someone unexpected, to turn this season on its head. That is what we need. There is no room for indifference. Apathy is a blight the monarchy simply cannot endure.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. But remember, a young lady cannot be a diamond until you anoint her as such. So if for any reason you do not find one among the candidates todayâ€¦”

My mother cut off her friend. “Do you think she will return? We have heard nary a peep from Lady Whistledown since last season ended. Perhaps the writer came to her senses. Perhaps she realized taking on her queen was a bad idea, and she will never publish again.”

Lady Danbury responded. “It is a convincing theory, ma'am.”

“Or she simply left for the country, as the rest of us did in the off-season, bored by the lack of any real gossip.”

Lady Danbury made a noise. “Hmm. “

“You do know what that would make her, then?” My mother Queen Charlotte trailed off.

I finished her sentence being fair too noisy, needing to listen to the conversation of the famous gossiping writer. “One of us.”

“My darling daughter, you look radiant as ever.” My mother turned away from her friend to face me.

I sent her a smile waving to Lady Danbury to not be rude. “It’s good to see you, Lady Danbury.”

“Good to see you too, Princess Y/n.” She smiled.

My mother clasped her hands together in front of her puffy white dress. “I have been needing to speak with you and what this evening needs to entail for you and your happiness.”

“You wish for me to marry a prince and provide heirs for the crown.” I rolled my eyes already thinking of the answer she would say.

Yet to my surprise she said almost the opposite. “I wish for you to have happiness and many children. It would help if your husband was royalty, but it is not a requirement.”

“It isn’t?” Knitting my brows in confusion.

She takes my hands in hers. “I didn’t get the chance to search for love on my own. My brother arranged my marriage with your father. So I secretly hope that you, my firstborn daughter, can have some fun.”

“Mother, Iâ€¦that means so much to me.” I smiled through some happy tears.

Footsteps came down the long hallway and around the corner before we saw my father’s servant named Reynolds. “My Queen, my princess. I have news.” He bowed with a hand behind his back.

“What is it, Reynolds?” I asked him.

He shifted his gaze to mine. “You're father is having an episode, Princess.”

“Ohâ€¦” I made a noise in discomfort. I knew of his illness

That was the secret my mother and the rest of my siblings and I kept hidden from thr world. They needed to believe that the king was just always busy and so his wide made the appearances out on the town. “Hmm it appears we may have to cancel the ball tonight for the Bridgertons.” My mother sighed in defeat knowing her husband came first.

“We shall not cancel.” My mother and Reynolds’s both shifted their attention over to me when I had spoken up the opposite of what they assumed would need to be done. “We should not cancel because I can represent the family in your place, mother.”

She tapped her chin in thought. “I suppose that could solve our problem. I don't wish to cancel the months of preparation that were put into this.”

“Exactly that would be a tragedy.”

The queen turned to her husband's helper with instructions. “Inform my husband I will come to his aid. Brimsley?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

She gave him a different set of orders. “Inform the Viscount Bridgerton that my daughter shall be appearing tonight before myself.” He bowed and went in a different direction then Reynolds.

“Thank you, mother.” I smiled curtseying to her before we parted for the evening. It was quite a few hours before the ball with our castle subjects and the Bridgertons would even begin. By the evening the moon was shining up in the sky and the grand ballroom was lit up like a christmas tree.

Standing silently outside the currently shut double doors I stopped fiddling with my dress when one of the royal guards gave me a head nod saying it was time. I could hear the announcer's voice before the doors had even begun opening. “May I present to you her royal highness. The daughter of King George and Queen Charlotte, Princess Y.n of England.”

“Thank you, sir.” I whispered to another guard that came to me when I had made my entrance through the doors feeling all eyes on me. Sucking in a tiny breath he escorted me to the small throne before we unlinked arms leaving me on my own. The small crown on my head had never felt so heavy as it did right now. “Greetings my subjects. I am here to announce that my mother got called away tonight for an emergency. But she saw no reason why this event couldn’t go on as planned. So with that in mind let me extend a warm welcome to Violet Bridgerton and her family for traveling here for a few months.”

Everyone began clapping and cheering with an older looking woman who had dark brown hair up in a crown on her head that came up to me and gave a lovely curtsey. “Princess, it is a pleasure to get an invitation.”

“I hope I can get to meet your family greatly over your stay, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Princess Y/n, may I ask you something?” Someone called my name causing me to lift my gaze up noticing someone moving through the crowd. The figure paused beside the Bridgerton woman who seemed to give the man a confused but amused depression on her face.

I clicked my tongue and answered the stranger's question. “What is your question, my lord?”

“I was wondering if you would accept my offer for a dance together this evening.” The stranger seemed similar to the woman he was standing beside him. I was fairly certain they were related, but which son was he if they were.

He extended his hand up to me and I smiled, placing my smaller hand in his larger one. “I accept so long as I know which Bridgerton are you?”

“Benedict, Benedict Bridgerton.” He replied leading me out and onto the dance floor with the entire room having theur eyes focused on the two of us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - just ask to be added @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @ritz-hell-hotel

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amongemeraldclouds · 1 day

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no take backs

As the earth collapsed around you, your sworn enemy decides to confess his feelings for you with a kiss. So when the world doesn’t end, what happens next?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ only MDNI, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex, piv, v!fingering, reader has anxiety (only plays a small part in the story), earthquake (no injuries)

Author’s note: Based on this request then I expanded on the concept. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist | 2.4k words

“Just because I’m letting you drive me home, does not mean we’re friends,” you huffed as you climbed into the passenger seat of Jess Mariano’s beat up car. Vintage, he called it. You’d never admit it, but you found it cute how he was proud of it. To him, it was his key to freedom, going anywhere he wanted whenever he wanted. Except for when nature had other plans.

“Well, a coworker could take his other coworker home, okay?” He said, closing the car door as he slid his keys into the ignition and started up the car. You relent and gave him your address.

It was just your luck that the Earth’s tectonic plates decided to shift in ways that damaged your car, but not your mortal enemy’s. Perhaps it was karma and you were being encouraged to make amends with him in the name of world peace. Try as you might however, the word “peace” and Jess Mariano just did not fit.

It certainly did not feel peaceful being trapped in a car with him. Your cheeks blushed as you remembered how soft his lips felt against yours and the eager way they moved as if it was the final thing he would ever do in his life. And for a few moments back at the publishing house, tucked safely beneath a table while the world shook violently around you, you were both convinced it was your last moments.

It was confusing. The way your heart hammered and you didn’t know if it was from fear of dy*ng or the way his kiss invaded your entire being. From the moans it elicited from your throat, to the air it stole from your lungs, and the butterflies that rushed in your stomach. It was hard to tell if it really was just an earthquake or the mind-shattering truth that your enemy might not actually hate you at all.

Then it was over too soon. The air felt cold without him close to you and he was pulling you up from under the table.

“So we’re just not going to talk about it?” You asked, piercing the awkward silence.

Jess just shrugged and spoke casually, “talk about what?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, of course he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. But he had no right confusing you with a kiss after constantly making your life a living nightmare.

“Jess, you kissed me,” you deadpan, addressing the elephant in the room. “Coworkers don’t kiss other coworkers.”

“A lapse of judgment in a life-threatening situation,” he dismissed, keeping his eyes straight on the road.

Your mouth curled, the sweet aftertaste of his kisses turning sour. You fumed in silence as you looked outside the window with unfocused eyes. You weren’t sure what you were more upset about: his denial or your disappointment - having to face the horrid fact that you also didn’t hate your enemy.

“Shit, the road’s blocked,” Jess drew you out from the thunder of your thoughts as you looked at the cars lined up ahead. It was like a scene from one of those post-apocalyptic films you’ve seen and dread sank in your chest. Perhaps you should stick to watching cheesy rom coms because this pessimism was not helpful at all.

“Can we go somewhere else?” You whispered softly, anxiety bearing down your chest.

Jess looked at you with concern. “Sure, let’s find somewhere we can park until things get better,” he replied with an equally soft tone and you hated it because he knew all about your anxiety and penchant for panic attacks. You didn’t like being weak around him, not if he could be sweet and caring only to take it all back when you’re fine.

He parked the car in between buildings, sheltered from the wails of emergency response vehicles and the rush of people trying to go home. You exhaled after going through rounds of breathing exercises to calm your anxiety.

“My my, a secluded alley. Jess Mariano, whatever do you plan to do with me?” You quipped, mildly accusing him or m*rder when the other meaning dawned on you, something that made you blush. Well, it was too late to back out now.

He smirked, “whose to say you’re not the one who wants to do things with me with that line of questioning, huh?”

“I wouldn’t do anything if I was the only one who liked it,” you hedged. Perhaps life was too short to keep denying your feelings. If there was ever a better time to learn that lesson, it was now. You just needed him to admit he felt it too.

“I don’t like the idea of being k*lled, thanks,” he scoffed as he plastered on a smug smile.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you looked outside the window, an idea forming in your head.

“It sure is getting hot,” you comment innocently as you undid the top buttons of your blouse. Jess’ eyes followed your movement and you don’t miss the way his breath hitches.

“Better get comfortable, right?” You said, adjusting the car seat to lean back and you felt your blouse open slightly to reveal your cleavage. You were not going to make it easy for him to deny his feelings.

“Stop that,” Jess demanded while his eyes told a different tale of desire and longing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied lazily. Two can play that game.

That’s right Jess, you thought, here’s a dose of your medicine. You continued, “this is much better.” You leaned your head back and stretched on the seat, aware of how your skirt inched up your legs.

You let out a satisfied moan, sighing in pleasure at thoughts of getting comfortable. If by comfort, you meant the satisfaction of derailing Jess’ denial and stubbornness. His eyes traced your legs then followed your chest when they rose and fell with your sigh.

Jess grunted and you bit back a smile. “Okay, fine. So I kissed you,” he admitted.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You said it meant nothing, so why would it matter?”

“I never said it meant nothing, I said it was a it was a lapse of judgment.”

“There’s a difference?” You raised your eyebrow, challenging him to continue.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he steeled himself. To Jess Mariano, telling the truth meant peeling back the layers of his sarcasm, which was as painful as stripping off his skin.

“You know when they say the world is about to end, you’d think your life flashes before your eyes. But all I could see was you. And it wasn’t just because you were in front of me. God, I closed my eyes, and all I could see was still you. Laughing at your own jokes, greeting everyone with a smile, typing away on your computer. It would be such a shame if I didn’t get to kiss you if that was the last thing I’d ever do, damn it. But then the earthquake stopped and we were fine.”

Your eyebrows creased as you let his words sink in. “Is it really so bad that we survived?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “I don’t think I could ever survive you. You frustrate me because you’re just so…you! You’re not someone I could just kiss once and get out of my system. I’d always want more and then I’d inevitably screw it up. It was better that you hated me from the start.”

His eyes burned with untold stories of heartbreak and self destruction. Despite all the ways he infuriated you, you wanted nothing more than to hold him. You had a feeling you were just seeing who he truly was beneath his smug smiles and his devil-may-care attitude.

“Jess, I don’t hate you,” you confess. “Don’t just make it one kiss,” you continue, allowing yourself to be just as honest as him. “Have another one, and another, and heck - have all of me!”

He looked at you in disbelief, as if he wished for the stars and he was told he could have the whole damn galaxy. A spark of joy and hope ignited something wild in him that he no longer let himself think of past regrets and mistakes.

He inched towards you, looking into your eyes for permission and you bridged the distance in response, kissing him. It was fiercer than when you both thought you were on the brink of de*th, because this time, it was a celebration of life and the possibilities that lay ahead.

You felt it when he sucked on your bottom lip and you moaned in pleasure, a small sound for all the words you couldn’t say. How all those time spent hating him was just a shield from your admiration of the man who took destiny in his own hands and never let the world define him.

The man who wrote stories and downplayed them through luck and how ink fumes must have altered his publisher’s minds to pick him. He never once acknowledged his talent, but secretly you did with the way you underlined your favorite sentences and re-read his book as if his words could wrap you in a sweet embrace.

He always kept you at an arm’s length and made your life hell, but it was heaven just being beside him. And you never dared to admit it. Until now, when he’s unbuttoning your blouse as he unravels your secrets. His mouth moves to your neck, setting your body on fire.

“Wait, what if someone sees us?” You ask, a wave of sobriety washing over you.

Jess just smirked, his lips pink and swollen, hungry for more of your kisses. “That’s half the fun.”

You rolled your eyes but god - you needed him. “And the other half?” You asked, mirroring his smirk.

“This,” he just says as he resumes your kiss.

It’s agony when you pull away again just to alleviate your anxiety, “can we at least go to the back?” It’s not much, but it’s better than being right by the windshield.

“Spacious,” he nods, moving away so you could climb over to the backseat. You felt the heat of his stare behind you as you settled in.

He promptly followed suit until your bodies are tangled again with him laying you down the seat, careful so you don’t hit your head. You bring your hand to his stupid hair and run your fingers through it. His hands return to your blouse and your back arches on instinct when he unclasps your bra and he takes a moment to look at you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes as he squeezes your breast while he licks the other, planting soft tender kisses.

In his car, the sirens and chaos faded. You were consumed by Jess’ touch, both curious and possessive at the same time. His free hand traveling down your leg as he caressed it, slowly making his way to your inner thigh. You can’t help the way you squirmed beneath him as you held your breath in anticipation. In response, you palm his erection beneath his uncomfortably tight jeans and you’re rewarded with a grunt.

He teased you through your panties and you open your legs for him as he moves the thin fabric aside to feel your soft folds. You bite your lip and try to stifle your moan, but Jess brings his mouth to your ear, “I need to hear you, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” You cursed in response, your mind swimming in a haze of euphoria.

His fingers send shockwaves of pleasure as he spreads your liquid heat, exploring your folds and paying attention to which sensations left you whimpering. He exploited them skillfully, rubbing and teasing, eager to make you a moaning mess for him. You gasped when he plunged his fingers inside you and you arched your back, needing him deeper.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he admires as he pumped his fingers in and out. You moved your hips against his hand, needing more of him. He was finally here, doing things you used to just dream about, secrets stashed beneath soft covers in your moonlit bedroom.

“Jess, please. I need to feel all of you,” you begged and his eyes darkened.

“I’m all yours,” he replied as he removed his fingers and cleaned them off with his tongue. “Fuck you taste so good.”

You helped him free his hard length and you don’t stifle the needy moan that escapes you this time when he fills you up. He takes a few slow movements before building up to a steady pace, the delicious friction making your toes curl. “You feel amazing, Jess,” you tell him.

He kissed you as he rocked his hips into you, a clash of teeth and tongue. There was nothing gentle in the way you moved against each other, it was pure want and longing crashing into each other. It was months of fantasies finally coming true and desires unleashed building in your core.

The car moved along with you, giving you extra leverage to find your rhythm. The irony was not lost on you that as the world shook around you once again, things were falling into place this time.

Filthy, desperate whimpers escaped his lips and you spread your legs wider, needing him deeper inside you. He squeezed your breast in response and teased your taut nipples, eager to worship all of you. You closed your eyes when you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

“Look at me,” Jess tells you instead and so you do. You see the lust and passion in his eyes and it’s enough to unravel you. Little earthquakes of ecstasy erupt through you as you shuddered against him. He increases his pace, eager to coax every last aftershock of your orgasm. It doesn’t take long before you feel his release warming your insides. He rests his head in the crook of your neck as he recovers his breath.

When he pulls out, you swipe his spilled seed from your leg and bring it in your mouth, enjoying the salty taste. “Fuck you’re so hot,” Jess breathes out.

You grin. “So this happened. You gonna deny it?” You challenged him as he held you.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “This happened. You’re mine and I’m yours. No take backs.”

“No take backs,” you echoed as you leaned in for another kiss.

It was perfect. The world could end at that moment and you would not mind at all.

Still you were glad to stay alive. Because then, you could always go another round, and another. So it goes.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist

#jess mariano smut #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano fluff #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano #gilmore girls #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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the-paper-apricot · 2 days

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Paul, Porter and "I love you"

The accepted explanation of the writing of the Wings hit 'Silly Love Songs', including that offered several times over the years by Paul McCartney himself, is that it was a riposte to criticism of his more sentimental love songs as light and insignificant.

I was getting slagged off for writing luv songs. You see, I’m looking at love not from the perspective of ‘boring old love’, I’m looking at it like when you get married and have a baby. That’s pretty strong: it’s something deeper.

Paul McCartney, from Club Sandwich N°47/48, Spring 1988 (cited here)

Although I've never seen this discussed anywhere, it's long seemed to me that there's another possible influence on the song. To my knowledge no one has ever asked Paul directly about this, so what follows remains just my headcanon. (If anyone knows something to the contrary, please let me know!)

Cole Porter, another preternaturally talented Gemini lefty.

While writing the songs destined for the musical Mexican Hayride (1944), Cole Porter was presented with a challenge by his close friend Monty Woolley. (Woolley was an American actor who you may remember in the delicious role of the Professor in the Christmassy classic film The Bishop's Wife.) Woolley reasoned that because Porter's songwriting mastery came in part from his unhackneyed, fresh lyrical ideas, he wouldn't be able to write a hit song with the simple, rather too obvious, repeated refrain of "I love you".

Monty Woolley with Cole Porter

It became a $25 wager, and Woolley also stipulated that his friend include reheated stale lines about spring and "birds on the wing". Porter duly wrote 'I Love You', which was the only standout in the show and in time topped the U.S. Hit Parade for several weeks, so he won his bet.

I would quite like to have been sort of a nineteen-twenties writer, 'cause I like that thing, you know. You know, up in top hat and tails and sort of coming on ... so, this kind of number, I like that thing. But, so this is just me doing it, and pretending I'm living in 1925.

Paul McCartney, talking about 'Honey Pie', interview with Radio Luxembourg, 1968

Melvyn Bragg: What's the longest you've ever worked over a song? 'Cause a lot of the lyrics, the more you read them, the more - and then they always read very straightforwardly and seamlessly, but when you read them again and again they're very complicated, and a lot of internal rhyming going on and a lot of extremely clever play. Does that - do you work on them quite hard? Do you go over them again and again? Paul: Well, you know I'm a fan of all that, the old-fashioned writing. You know, sort of Sammy Cahn's era, you know, Cole Porter, and I do like all that, when it comes off! I mean, I hate just silly rhymes, just, you know - but when it really comes off those are great little things in songwriting. So I was always aware of that from people like Cole Porter. So I'd always try and put something like that kinda thing in, sorta little internal rhymes, you were always going for that kinda thing. ... I can't explain it, you know, I've never been able to explain it, but it's like it comes in out of the blue. It sort of comes at you, you know, and - I'm sure the funnel that it's coming through's a lot to do with it, 'cause your little computer in here - my computer's sort of heard Billy Cotton Band Show going back there, you know and Cole Porter there, and this there and it's heard millions of influences through to Chuck Berry ...

from 'Paul McCartney: Songsmith' (The South Bank Show) January 1978

George Eells' book The Life That Late He Led: A Biography of Cole Porter was published in 1967 and remained the definitive life for about a decade. It mentions the 'I Love You' wager (p212), which became one of the better-known song origin anecdotes.

I have no idea if Paul McCartney knew this story. But I can imagine the professional challenge appealing to him, and perhaps especially tempting is the playful pairing of commercial reward with artistic defiance. 'Silly Love Songs', like 'I Love You' before it, was a big hit: Number 2 in the UK chart, and top of the Billboard chart in the States.

Did he dare himself to write a pop chorus that repeated the refrain "I love you", because Porter had done so? I dunno.* For what it's worth, I think the three melodic lines in the chorus of 'Silly Love Songs' exceed Porter's tune in both beauty and memorability.** (Although I do enjoy this sultry version recorded by Julie London.)

youtube

(*Just like I don't know if 'Why Don't We Do It In The Road' found any precedent in Porter's celebrated and racy-for-its-day song, 'Let's Do It, Let's Fall in Love'.)

(**But I mean, you'd expect me to say that, you know I've made paper dolls of him in his little Wings outfits tbf.)

#Apricot's headcanon #Silly Love Songs #Paul McCartney #Cole Porter #'I Love You'#this post brought to you by my weird varied interests

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 1 day

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feel free ignore this but i was just wondering when you started writing fics bc theyre all so amazing wtf???

ignore this sweet ask?? NEVER!!

so, to be completely honest, this is not the first time i've written and published fics!! though, i've NEVER received attention like this and it's so so nice!!

i've been writing little stories in my head for probs as long as i can remember. writing was just always something that i've done and i have distinct memories of crying to my mom about how hard it was sometimes when the words came out wrong or i struggled to spell them correctly. this would later be diagnosed as dyslexia but my mom made sure to get me the correct support i needed!! it still fucking sucks but whatevas lmao

also, my mom loved to write when she was in college!! and she was really good, too, but she gave it all up to marry my (stupid ass) dad and raise my sister and i. but that's a really sad story for another day.

BUT i wrote some crappy mcu fanfic on here when i was like 10?? really really bad i hadn't even seen all the movies when i wrote that i just thought bucky was hot lmao- (do not go looking for that shit i will cut you- i don't even know how you would find that but no! bad!)

then, during covid, i had a fever dream the night before christmas (deadass im not being funny) and started writing fanfic for...ugh i can't believe im gonna say this but it was sherlock lmao-

like...legit 12 books. each with like eight to nine chapters. it basically followed the plot of the show EXACTLY except for with the add in of my oc lmao. that's posted on wattpad (again. i will commit crimes to keep my name away from that shit lmao- i tried rereading it the other day and nearly died from cringe)

OH AND I WENT THROUGH A CRINGY ASS POETRY PHASE LMAO THOSE WERE BAD BAD- tbh might be willing to share them to strictly laugh at but idk where i would find it anymore bc i feel like ive scrubbed it off my phone-

all that to say, i've been doing crappy writing for a very long time, but this is the first time that i've actually felt really proud of my work. also, you're such a sweetheart to ask this and it was so fun to reply to!! i really do love yapping yall up!!

anyways, hope this made sense and i WILL find you if you so much as THINK about finding my old fics lmao-

#no but fr if yall find them i will legit be impressed #MORE than impressed #return to sender ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ

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juliusschmidt · 17 days

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softquietsteadylove · 3 months

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I know it’s probably so annoying of me to keep asking for more every time you fulfill one of my prompts, but once again you hit it out of the park with the memory loss au!!! Gil is so sweet and kind and such a good husband who loves his wife no matter what 🥹 i don’t have a specific prompt, but just would love to read more about that journey. Thank you as always for keeping this ship alive, you have a reader in many of us still!

Gil paused in front of the door to the apartment. He leaned his forehead against the door, letting the cool of the air temper his mediocre (at best) day.

He loved his job, he loved the bakery. But the questions about Thena were getting to him. They came from a good place, he knew, and of course they would have their curiosities. But it was hard to deny that he was annoyed with the questions about if it was weird for them.

No, it wasn't.

Of course it was.

He had to come home and gauge if his wife was feeling particularly nervous around him that day. He had to ask how she was feeling because she went out of her way to hide that from him. She was recovering well, but no memories had emerged as of yet.

In his worst moments he really had to wonder if they would at all.

But he couldn't stand outside and dwell forever on that grim thought. He pulled out his keys to unlock the door. Thena herself had said she would leave it unlocked but he told her he would feel a little better if she didn't.

"Hi."

Gil blinked. It wasn't necessarily a welcome home kiss or anything, but Thena was standing by the door, smiling at him as he dropped his backpack where he stood. "Hey."

Her smile wavered faintly, but it certainly wasn't fake. She was nervous. "H-How was work?"

"Uh," Gil tried not to flounder. She was trying something, and he didn't want to discourage her. He also smiled, kicking off his shoes and starting to take off his coat. "It was okay. Kind of long, but at least it's friday, right?"

Thena just nodded, stepping back to let him in. "Come and tell me about it."

Gil tilted his head, squinting at her so long as she wasn't looking at him. It wasn't that she never asked to hear about his day before. But even just last week she was still trying to figure out how to start a casual conversation with him, or ask where they kept the coffee filters (again).

Thena seated herself on the couch, waiting for him expectantly. He chuckled, ruffling the stress out of his hair. When he rounded the corner of the couch he looked at the coffee table. The beer can was visibly cold, on a coaster and everything. "I thought I was out of these."

Thena shifted her knees, tugging at her skirt. "I decided to go to the store, today."

Gil tried not to look freaked out about that. He was just being overprotective, and there was no reason Thena couldn't want to get out of the house for a little. She remembered where the store was...apparently.

"I noticed there weren't any in the fridge, but I picked some up while I was out," she added, tilting her head as he cracked it open. "It smells familiar."

He smiled at that. Smells could be very good for her memory, he had already discovered by way of their laundry detergent, and his cologne. "You want a sip?"

She shook her head, and that made him smile too. "Yeah, I guess you never really had a taste for beer. You don't mind a glass of wine with Kari, though."

"Hm," she sighed as she leaned against the back of the couch. Her eyes were still intent on him. "So?--work?"

He cleared his throat, setting the beer down on its coaster again. "Right, uh...it was okay. Things ran normally, it was kind of quiet, but I guess it's just that time of year. And the weekend guys will be fine."

He had worked the very early mornings for the weekend before, actually. But since Thena's episode he did what he could to be at home whenever she was up and around.

"What do you bake specifically?"

"Oh," he blinked. It was light enough conversation, but Thena asked it like she was going to be quizzed on it later. But then again, he could remember their first date having a similar intensity to it. That was just what Thena was like. "I guess I mostly do the croissants, some of the desserts-"

"I looked up the bakery online today."

"Really?" he tried to ask casually, but she was going somewhere with all this.

Thena looked down at the small but comfortable space between them on the couch, picking at one of the cushion seams. "I considered walking by, but... "

She usually wasn't one to trail off during a sentence, but obviously she had really thought about whether to go through with it or not. Gil scooted just a little closer to her (not enough to spook her). "Hey, that's okay. I probably wouldn't have been able to come out and see you for long, anyway. It's sweet, though."

She looked embarrassed, but didn't shy away from him, at least. "I was worried someone would recognise me and...and I would leave them wanting."

Gil nodded; Thena was quietly terrified of having to meet everyone in their lives all over again. He couldn't blame her. Meeting people was never her specialty, and the pressure on her was now worse than ever. "It's okay, hon. We can face that later."

She sighed faintly, but she allowed him to just sort of wiggle his finger in her direction. She mustered the courage to hook her finger with his. It was small, but it didn't escape him that it was big for her.

"Hey, on sunday we can go by together if you want. Pick up some stuff for brunch here at home?" he suggested it gently, testing the waters. If she truly never wanted to speak to anyone they knew ever again, he didn't really have any argument to stand on.

He was willing to do anything to keep her from considering leaving all together.

"That sounds lovely." She smiled to match his smile, although softer and gently. Her hand did move, from just their fingers linking to more of a tentative hand holding. Affection wasn't her specialty either.

"It's a date," he grinned, unable to contain himself. Thena blinked and he nearly flinched, "I-I mean, not-! It doesn't have to-"

She laughed, though. He had missed that sound like the air he breathed. "My second chance at our first date."

He knew she meant it as a light joke, or maybe even in a self-deprecating way. But he melted. He couldn't help it! His wife was going to go on a date with him!

Thena watched passively as he brought her hand up to his lips. He gave her the chance to pull away, but she didn't. He kissed her knuckle gently. holding on just so he could admire the wedding ring still on her finger.

She had once asked if he had taken his off, and it had horrified him. But he asked if she wanted to take hers off. She had every right, even if the thought made him want to shrivel up and sink into the sea. But Thena had looked at the foreign object on her finger and answered very plainly but honestly: no.

Thena tilted her head at him again, "Gil?"

He gave her hand another kiss before looking at her again. Her hand in his, a beer to his left, it felt a little more like old times. But it was also new, in an endearing way. "So, you looked up the bakery?"

"Yes," she smiled, indulging his much improved mood, even letting him run his finger against her wedding ring. "It's a lovely site, the products are photographed well."

They had an instagram that Sprite mostly ran herself, but Thena didn't actually know that a lot of the product photography on the website had been done by herself back when Gil first got the job.

He had bragged all about how his wife was an amazing artist with a great eye for beauty! Thena had come in and done the photos for the website and then scolded him for embarrassing her.

"They are," he agreed quietly. "And we have some seasonal stuff, too. We'll still have the usual--the croissants, the pain au chocolat, the mont blancs. But we also still have the petit fours right now, since we get so much extra in for valentine's day."

Thena's face betrayed a split second of horror.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassured her, and also used it as a great excuse to kiss her again (this time her open palm). "You were still in the hospital then. And we were never really valentine's people anyway."

There was some clear doubt in her eyes at that statement, but she didn't choke out a positively miserable apology (again).

"Besides," Gil put on his most charming smile, which she always said made him look suspicious, "I think valentine's is a little much for our first date, isn't it?"

Thena laughed again, and god he could listen to that for hours. He would make it his ringtone if she would let him. "I suppose that is a little forward of me."

"I mean Thena, I don't know what you heard about me, but I like to take it slow," he continued to joke, relishing in her laughter. It was so light and cute for how stern she always tried to look. "I'll pick you up and everything."

"You'll 'pick me up'?" she repeated back to him with her sandy blonde eyebrows raised. She had plucked them recently; she really was bored sitting at home all day.

"Sure," he shrugged and nodded in the direction of the guest room--her room. "I'll pick you up at 10."

#Thenamesh Vow AU #first of all #thank you for the ask!#second of all I will never get tired of getting asks!#especially when they're so sweet!#it means so much to me that you like what I'm publishing especially enough to ask for more #and I really did love how this entry came out #so I'm very happy to write more for it #I think it's just so sweet really #Gil is so understanding of his wife #he just wants her to feel comfortable in her own home #to feel at ease with him #little does he know Thena has been obsessing about how to be a good wife for him #she walks around the block a few times but chickens out on going to the bakery #poor thing is too shy to go in and ask to see her husband #so she goes to the grocery store for regular stuff #and she remembers the cold beers that Gil indulges in on his weekends #by the way #the grocery stores here do not sell alcohol in them you have to go to the liquor store #it's wild to me that grocery stores elsewhere have booze in them #anyway Thena comes home #literally brushes her hair and vacuums the living room and lights a candle or something #she still can't greet Gil with a hug or a kiss #but girl is trying

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