#grace c. threads

grace stares at herself in the mirror, taking in the sight of her body in the dress that they’d bought her. it’s too short, too tight and with a neckline that dips so low she feels terribly exposed. the ling*rie beneath it ( also a gift from them ) does nothing to help that feeling and her heart is hammering in her chest as she glances over at them. “a-are you sure about this?” her tone is soft, but she’s not one to argue. “i feel so...exposed.”

grace hasn’t exactly been on many dates in her life ( thank her parents and their wildly overbearing religious homeschool child rearing techniques ) but this has to be her absolute favorite. the lights of the carnival flash all around them, rides in full swing, the scent of some butter laden baked goods and the twinkling sounds of different booths swirling around them and she swears she has butterflies in her stomach when she looks over at wyatt. “thanks for taking me here,” she hums happily, eyes widening briefly as she spots a particular booth behind him. “oh! they have cotton candy - we should get some!”

“hello, my lord. i am...my name is grace. your father has said i am to be your companion - a friend, if you will.”