‘ 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍.

𝔇elight in gloved fingers && she gathers snow between palms—before hurling a ball made of snow at the reader.

“I hate it when you do 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱.”

𝐼𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓇 thuds in her veins, setting skin alight with an 𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 red upon the curve of her cheeks. She tugs him close, lips ghosting against lips as she whispers: ❝And 𝓎𝑜𝓊 will have your bride. I can take a 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 husband, no? 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈.❞

She 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈 into his touch, shudder poisoning her weak spine. Fingers entwine, and eyes close as her head turns—a soft chuckle had. ❝Only 𝓎𝑜𝓊 can turn my head with such sweetness.❞

“Why do you say that?”

A soft chortle.

“Mother would never forgive you.”

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ a raring blade aiming towards the heart ; his lustful eye seeking crimson, examining the r͟e͟a͟d͟e͟r͟ with lips concealing a haughty smirk. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

“I trust you with all my 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱.”

“Do you 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆, Jace?”