#and so he is smitten. taken by this man and his watchful eye and his steady hands. fascinated by the demon living inside him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nerdygirlramblings · 1 month ago

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can't get this lyric from Lola Young's "Messy" out of my head: "A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot"

thinking about reader with a crappy SO being saved by the 141

fluff with an abrupt ending

cw: bad attempt at accents

The first time Gaz sees you is in the museum. He has paperwork to drop off, and you greet him as he enters. He pulls up short; he's never seen you before. He knows he'd remember your beautiful face.

"G'morning!" you chirp, smiling brightly at him. "How can I help you..." You peer at his uniform, and it takes Gaz a moment to realize you're looking for rank insignia.

"I'm a Sergeant. Sergeant Kyle Garrick. Of the 141. But you can call me Gaz," he says. You look down briefly before meeting his eyes, your smile softer - both more vulnerable and more guarded - and give him your name.

"How can I help you, Sergeant?"

He rolls his eyes, but smiles back and tells you what he needs. You call the Captain who oversees the museum. The older man comes forward from a door along the back wall, claps you on the shoulder as thanks, and guides Gaz away. He chances a look over his shoulder as he leaves, catches your eye, and smiles one more time.

He finds out from the Captain you're a civilian volunteer. "Think she must work remote," he says, "'cause she's here all the time."

A few days later Gaz takes the long route from the mess to the training field with the express intent on trying to find you at the museum. Soap watches him veer left instead of right, a small plate of biscuits in hand, and tags along. "Where're we headed? And more importantly, can I have a biscuit?" Soap asks, hand reaching for the plate.

Gaz doesn't spare Soap a glance, nor does he slow his stride, but he smacks Soap's hand and pulls the biscuits further from the Scot's reach. He keeps walking toward the light infantry museum. As other buildings fell away, Soap figures where they're headed. "Wha's going on a' the museum?" When Gaz stays quiet, Soap amends, "Och, I guess I should ask, who's a' the museum, right?"

Gaz scoffs but can feel the heat in his face. He doesn't know what to say, but he recognizes he's smitten. He doesn't even know why; his interaction with you had been so short-lived. But he can't deny there is something that draws him to you. As they come up to the front doors, Gaz can't see you at the desk, can't see anyone at all in the front of the building, so he opens the door and calls out a greeting.

"Back here!" your voice calls out from the bowels of the museum. Gaz and Soap, who perks up at the mere sound of your voice, make their way past several displays about the history of infantry from Hereford to find you in the back corner. You look up from the open case where you are adjusting something small against black velvet. When you see Gaz, your eyes widen slightly in recognition, and you say, "Oh, Sergeant! Do you need the Captain again?"

He shakes his head and says, "I told you, doll, call me Gaz." He notices how you glance away again, seemingly waffling between discomfort and bashfulness.

Soap takes the break to push past Gaz and stick out his hand. "Name's Soap, bonnie."

You step back from the case, closing the glass and locking it shut. You take two steps towards them and extended your hand to shake Soap's. You give him your name and ask, "Is your name really Soap?"

He laughs. "Well, if ye cannae call Gaz Gaz, I'm nae dafty enough to give ye my full name."

You smile big at that and hold up your hands. "Point taken, Soap. And Gaz," you add, still smiling. "How can I help you today?"

Gaz presents the biscuits and says, "Saw these in the mess, and I thought you might like a little treat."

Your mouth pops open, but before you can respond another voice shouts, "Babe! Hey! Where the hell are ya?" You meet both Gaz's and Soap's eyes, and Gaz see a mixture of regret and shame in your gaze.

"I... I'm sorry," you stammer. Then you quickly turn and head for the front of the museum, leaving Gaz still holding out the plate of biscuits. They hear you call, "I'm coming!"

Gaz looks at Soap, the angry line of his jaw unmistakable. "Who the hell talks to their girl like tha'?" Because clearly, whoever called you is someone you know. Someone close. Gaz flicks his gaze to follow where you went and Soap nods. Both men walk silently towards the front doors and stop just out of sight of you and the man you are speaking with.

Your voice is low, and it is clear your partner is trying to keep his low too, but he is failing miserably. Gaz and Soap can hear grumbled words and phrases, "fuckin' hell" and "goddamn stupid" and "unbelievable." Each word seems to strike true, and you deflate before their eyes, shoulders hunched, arms crossed as if warding off the attack. Your partner seems to be gathering steam when you put a placating hand on his arm. Though you're quite, Soap and Gaz hear you tell him, "I'm sorry. I just thought you'd like me close." The man, shakes your hand off his arm and says, clearly, "What I'd like is if you're home with dinner ready when I get home, not comin' in after me with some take away because you still have your own damn work to do."

Gaz and Soap make their way out, unseen, but when you get back to the information desk, the plate of biscuits is sitting there, waiting.

A week after that ugly confrontation, Gaz and Soap have done some digging around base to find out more about you and the soldier who'd made you feel so small. They're in the briefing room, sharing intel like you're their next op.

Soap opens the flap of a thin folder and slides it across to Gaz. "Wanker's a Warrant Officer. Does some technical shite."

Gaz slams the cover closed. "I don't care what he does, but him being a WO's gonna be a problem." Soap cocks his head to the side, eyebrow raised. "We can't go around talkin' shite about him, Soap. We got Price and Ghost in our corner - or we would if we told 'em - but the fucker outranks us," he says, motioning between himself and the Scot.

"Then we tell Price and Ghost, get them to come down on 'im," Soap replies. "Simple."

Gaz rolls his eyes. "'Cept it isn't simple." He passes his folder to Soap. Your picture is clipped to the front cover. "She applied to volunteer at the museum after he got stationed here. Got a design background, so they snatched up her help. Traced back her last job, and she went from a full-time London agency to mostly freelance." Gaz watches Soap try to piece things together and rushes on, "Seems like she's only here because he is. We make things hard for him, she's likely gone too."

Soap frowns. They need to come up with something. It's in this quiet, frustrated concentration that Price and Ghost find the sergeants.

"Wha's all this, then?" Price asks, noting old To Let ads, examples of your design work, and your significant other's list of commendations.

Gaz looks from the papers on the table to his superior. "Well, Cap, there's this girl..."

It's a fortnight until Soap sees you, this time with Ghost in tow. They'd been making their way back from the motor pool when Soap notices you lingering outside the museum. He walks over, and Ghost follows in his wake.

"Hey, lass," he calls as he approaches. You look up with a slight frown until you see who it is.

"Hi Soap," you reply. He noted your smile is not as sincere as when you'd met. It doesn't reach your eyes.

"Ye okay?" he asks, coming to a stop in front of you.

His question startles you. "What? Oh, yes, I'm fine." He can tell you're distracted but doesn't push. "Can I help you with something, or..." You trail off, and he can see that you're not sure how to handle this interaction.

"Ach, nothing like tha'," he tells you. "Just saw ye oot here and came to say hello." He points to Ghost. "Ye meet Ghost yet?" He knows you haven't. Despite Gaz and Soap singing your praises, and especially extolling all the reasons they needed to step in and save you from the complete horse's ass you call a boyfriend, neither Price nor Ghost has made any attempt to meet you.

"No. I haven't had the pleasure yet, though your work is legendary," you tell Ghost. You put your hand out and offer your name. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Ghost glances at your hand for a moment too long and your strained smile falters more, your hand wavering where it's hanging. You're pulling it back when Ghost grips it tightly. "You the museum volunteer?" he asks.

You laugh, a tinkling little giggle, and both Soap and Ghost are amazed. Everyone is so intimidated by Ghost, especially when he wears his skull mask, all but the 141 and Laswell, that it's hard to know how to react when that underlying fear isn't present.

"I'm a volunteer, sir. There are several of us. I just seem to put in more hours than most." Soap knows that's because you do your design work when you're off base.

"Well, my break is almost over, so I should get back inside," you tell them reluctantly. You make a motion to say more when a car pulls into the car park. Soap recognizes your boyfriend and surreptitiously elbows Ghost.

"There you are," the man says with exasperation, leaning out the window. "I called your cell and the front desk, but there was no answer." He turns to glare at Soap and Ghost before realizing who Ghost is. He immediately sits up straight in his seat. There's a shit in his tone, too. He's more conciliatory as he says, "I wanted to tell you I can't drive you back tonight. You'll need to call a cab."

Soap sees the way your jaw ticks before you respond. "Thank you for telling me before my shift ends. Should I expect you home at all tonight?" you ask.

Your boyfriend gives a put-upon sigh before noting your audience. "I should be home, but it'll be late," he admits.

You nod and try to flash a smile. "Okay. Be safe, yeah?"

Soap watches your boyfriend gives a genuine smile in return. "Sure, babe," he says. "Text me when you get home." He's putting up the window and backing the car out as you call out an aborted farewell.

You're a little more crestfallen when you remind Soap and Ghost you have to get back to your museum work. They watch you walk away, and as the door closes behind you, Ghost grunts, "I'm in."

The following month sees one member of the 141 or another drop by the museum every few days. At first they make excuses for why they're there, but eventually Soap admits they like your company. Gaz and Ghost are ready to tear into the man when they hear about it, but the change in you is noticable. You're open, friendlier if possible.

You tell them about your work, the designs you created in London and how you've convinced the Captain in charge of the museum to let you modernize the installations. If they chat with you in the museum, you show them what you've changed and talk about what you want to do next. You open up about your love of baking and find yourself the recipient of a pastry cutter, cookie scoop, and silicone muffin cups. You tell them how you never left the UK but desperately want to travel. A few days later a passport application shows up on your desk clipped to travel brochures for Mallorca, the Canary Islands, Algarve, Benidorm, and Crete.

You talk, reluctantly, about your boyfriend, and only when asked directly. How you've known one another since secondary school. How he worked to woo you when you started university, despite being in basic at the time. How magical those first few years were. How his career took off and quickly trumped yours. How you followed him here at his insistence.

Through all these little conversations, you learn about them too. They tell you about their job, their families, their hobbies, their past. How they came together on the task force. What they want from life. What they want from you. They want you to know them.

As they learn about you, they also start collecting more Intel on said boyfriend. The flat you share is in your name; his housing allowance squirreled away in the bank in an account only he has access to. The car is in his name, forcing you to rely on him or cabs for transport to and from base. Though he works in the admin building, and you volunteer at the museum, he spends a lot of time in medical. The 141 suspects he's running around on you with one of the nurses, and if they could prove it, they would.

Until then, they bide their time.

Nearly two months after meeting Gaz, you have the opportunity to meet Price at a base gala. Your boyfriend invites you as his arm candy, bringing you around to his CO to make a good impression. He's expecting you to be at his side all night and is shocked when, halfway through the night, you wave across the room. You'd spotted the 141 skulking against the back wall.

You try to bring your boyfriend over to them to say hi, but he takes a quick look in their direction and steers you away. It's several minutes until they make their way across the room to you.

Soap reaches you first, arms open for a hug. Before you can step fully into his embrace, he holds you at arm's length. "Bon, ye're a sight! Don't think I've ever seen something so lovely." You giggle and let him pull you close.

Gaz steps up next. "Soap's right. You're a vision, doll. Ya clean up real nice." He smiles big and kisses your cheek. Even Ghost goes for a quick, one-armed hug, eyes crinkling above his mask.

You greet each man and turn to introduce your boyfriend. He opens and closes his mouth several times before stuttering out his name and holding out his hand. The 141 all shake his hand, gripping it a little tighter than necessary. He pinches your elbow and steps back, ignorant of the grimace that flickers across your face. Though he drops his voice, they hear him clearly as he hisses, "You never told me you were so close with the 141! What the hell! Did you even think about me? What will my CO think about you being so close with them, huh?" He tries to move you away from them and over to some members of the medical staff, including a pretty nurse who keeps glaring at you, not that you notice. (The 141 does as she's the one they think your twat of a boyfriend is running around on you with.)

Before he can take more than a few steps away, Price steps forward and holds a hand out to you. "Captain Price, darling. Such a pleasure to put a face to the girl my men have been gushing about these last few weeks."

You stand your ground despite how your boyfriend tries to pull you away. "Captain!" you practically squeal. You open your arms for a hug, ignoring his outstretched hand. "I feel like I know you already."

You chat for another few minutes before your boyfriend succeeds in getting your full attention by telling you he's tired and plans to leave. As you walk away on your boyfriend's arm, Price turns to the others and murmurs, "She's ours, boys. Now to let her know it."

From that moment on, you become the 141's unofficial mission. They go hard on gathering intel, tapping into base cameras to finally catch your boyfriend cheating. Often. And with several different nurses. They talk to the Captain who runs the museum, finding out how you've improved different installations. They take that to base command and convince them to create a non-volunteer civilian curator / exhibition designer position. They find a vehicle in base surplus and grab its on offer ad.

All of this information finds its way to your desk. In a full-circle moment, Gaz is the one stationed near the museum when you find the folder filled with photos of your boyfriend kissing different people; a contract to work at the museum, continuing the work you're already doing and for more money than you're making with your freelance work; and an on offer ad to give you your own transportation. Gaz watches the shock on your face as you try to process everything.

He gives you a few minutes before coming up to you. "Hey," he says softly. "It's a lot, I know."

You look up at him, confusion clear as day across your face. You whisper, "Did you know? About him?" You look heartbroken despite how poorly Gaz knows he's treated you.

"We suspected, but didn't know for sure until the last week or so," he admits.

"We?" you strangle out, meeting his eyes.

He sees the defeat in your eyes. "Me and the others, Soap, Ghost, the Captain. We all like you, doll. And we wanted you to know there are men out there, men like us, who love you and would treat you so much better."

You can't deny the earnest look in his eyes. "What are you saying, Gaz?"

He smiles softly at you. "When you're ready, if you want, we want you. All of us. To be our girl, not his."

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #simon riley #kyle garrick #johnny mactavish #john price #nerdygirl says

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whateveriwant · 9 months ago

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The 141 holding their baby for the first time

Can be read as a part 2 to this

Price

This man is so eager to hold his child for the first time, he almost doesn't wait for the nurses to clean him off first. So what if his son is covered in all sorts of blood and gunk? John has dealt with a lot worse before, trust him

So when he has to wait for the little one to be cleaned and then weighed and then dressed first, John almost steams from his ears he's so frustrated

Oh but the moment his child is finally placed in his arms, he just absolutely melts. Goes from a menacing grizzly bear to a harmless stuffed plushie in two seconds flat

With one hand supporting his bottom and the other curving along his back, John gently holds his son for the very first time. As he looks at the boy in his arms – his eyes, his lips, his little button nose – John feels a tickle behind his eyes, and he's quick to blink the tears away before they can form

He sniffs back his emotions and caresses the top of your son's head. “Hairy little bloke, ain't he?” he jokes, referring to the full head of hair the tyke's already been blessed with

Well, what does he expect when he has a werewolf for a father? Your jest gets John to chuckle lowly, muttering to the boy, “Just like your daddy, eh?”

He places the baby against the crook of his neck and softly pats him on the back, bouncing up and down ever so slightly. And when his son lets out a great big burp, John and you share a laugh. “Yeah, just like your daddy.”

Ghost

One thing Simon prides himself on is his sense of humility – knowing when his services are needed and when they aren't. In this instance, as the nurses flit around with his son, he knows it's the latter situation, so he waits patiently off to the side as he lets them work

Though he's sidelined, Simon watches like a hawk as his little boy moves about the room. Every hand-off, every measurement taken, it's all done under the careful eye of his father

But despite how cool he may appear on the outside, inside his heart is pounding, and that only increases as a nurse finally approaches him with his child in her hands

Simon goes to take the baby from her, stretching his arms out, but before the transfer is made, he remembers something. Quickly, he reaches up and strips the cloth mask from his face. He knows the little one doesn't have good eyesight yet, but first impressions and all that, right?

With the utmost caution, Simon takes his son into his arms, putting him in the crook of his elbow like a rugby player holding a ball. He feels like a giant as he holds the tiny boy against him. Like an ant compared to an elephant, he thinks to himself

Despite his size though, Simon is so delicate with his son, treating him like he's made of glass. He tucks him more firmly against his chest, and as the little one naturally snuggles closer, Simon can't help the smile it brings to his face

Rocking back and forth slightly, Simon tries to lull the boy to sleep. Unfortunately, his little cheek rubbing against Simon's chest has the opposite effect, and he begins to mouth at his pec, having accidentally triggered his rooting reflex

“Oh, he's…,” Simon mutters awkwardly, realizing what he's just done. He hears you giggle from your spot on your bed, and that makes him chuckle to himself. “Think he's hungry,” he says before handing the baby over to you

Gaz

From the moment Kyle laid eyes on his son, it was love at first sight. Even though he was filthy, wrinkly, and had a conehead to end all coneheads, Kyle was immediately smitten with the boy the moment he first saw him

He carefully trails after the nurses as they go about cleaning him/taking his measurements, not wanting to get in the way but wanting to stay close

Despite his watchfulness, however, when his son is finally offered to him, Kyle immediately freezes. His arms feel like they're locked down by his sides, like there's some kind of invisible force preventing him from reaching out and taking him

Though he's been preparing for this moment for months, when it's finally time to do it, he finds that he's scared. Scared to hurt him, to drop him, to do something wrong. He has to take a deep breath as he plucks up the courage, then has the nurse hand over his son

And the second the boy is placed in Kyle's arms, the tears he hadn't managed to shed during the delivery start streaming anew. “H-Hi, baby. Hi,” Kyle sobs, masterfully holding his son in one hand as he uses the other to wipe his tears away. “I'm your daddy.”

Though there's still a flurry of activity going on around them, it's like time seems to slow as Kyle admires the little boy in his arms. He leans in to press a soft kiss to the top of his son's head, holding his lips there as he inhales that sweet scent emanating from him

When he finally pulls back, he brushes another tear away, flashing a bright smile as he chuckles wetly to himself. Yep, he's in love alright. Truly, deeply in love

Soap

Johnny feels sluggish as he slowly wakes back up. It takes some effort for him to peel his eyes open, and when he does, he then groggily takes in his surroundings

He's slumped in some stiff hospital chair. Why? Oh, wait. He thinks he remembers. He was here to watch the birth of his first child, but the last thing he remembers was seeing a whole lot of red, and then everything went black

Johnny looks around the room for a moment until he realizes you're sitting in the bed across from him. He stands with a grunt, rubbing his forehead as he walks over to you. “What'd I miss?” he asks as approaches your bed

He notices something in your arms, but it's not until he gets close that he realizes what exactly. That isn't just any little bundle in your arms. That's your son you're holding

He finds he's frozen to his spot as you answer his question. Other than the birth? Not much. Just the first feeding… and the first burping… and the first swaddling

Johnny's lip threatens to tremble as he listens to you list off all the things he missed because he'd passed out. But when you ask in he wants to hold his son, all that sorrow immediately vanishes

Now, Johnny's held a lot of babies in his years (it comes with being part of the MacTavish clan), but there's something different this time as you pass the little boy to him. As Johnny looks at the baby in his arms – his baby – he realizes this is the most perfect, most beautiful, most amazing, angelic, awe-inspiringly wonderful–

There's the sound of a small whine followed quickly by a loud squish, and suddenly, the bum cradled in his hands feels about 2x heavier. The realization hits you before it does Johnny, and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you

Congrats, daddy-o! Looks like he woke up just in time for the first nappy change

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daydreaming-nerd · 10 months ago

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The Prophecy (Lucien Vanserra x Rhys! Sister)/(Azriel x Rhys! Sister)?

Part 2,

Part 3 (Lucien's Version)

Part 3 ( Azriel's Version)

AN: I’ve had this idea for a while but after hearing “The Prophecy” on The Tortured Poets Department I was finally feeling inspired to write it. You guys have no idea how much that album is about to influence my writing. Also I have no idea how this is gonna end lol.

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right?

Warnings: smut, unrequited love, situationship, fluff, Lucien is literally and angel I love him sm, did not edit (I am tired)

Word count: 3734

“Please, I've been on my knees. Change the prophecy. Don't want money just someone who wants my company…”

I had known the youngest Vanserra for a while now. I can recall the first time I met him on a lovely day in the spring court when I was visiting with my brother. The man was more than charming, his words nearly had me buckling at the knees. It was around the same time that I had found out that my brother's close friend Azriel was my mate.

I remember the bond snapping like it was yesterday. We were celebrating solstice in the Hewn City and my feet were nearly black and blue from the amount of drunk men stepping on them while dancing. I was about to ask my brother to take me home when Azriel stepped in and quite literally swept me off my feet. He let me stand on his toes and waltz around the room with him all night to ensure that he himself wouldn’t hurt my feet. At some point in the night the bond snapped and I had never been so happy.

Azriel and I had been friends for over 100 years and I had secretly harbored feelings for him for at least 75 of them. To have my brother's best friend as my mate felt like fate. I didn’t tell him that night, something I have regretted for the last 400 years.

Not long after that he rescued Mor and any sparks I thought he felt with me that night were long gone. From that day on all he did was pine for her. I couldn’t blame him, Mor was astonishingly beautiful. For a long time after he saved her I resented her, I felt like she had taken my mate from me. It wasn’t until I realized that she wanted nothing to do with the shadowsinger that my hatred for my cousin dissipated. It wasn’t her fault that Azriel was so smitten with her. It was my fault for not telling him, but now it had been so long since the bond snapped that it seemed weird to bring it up.

So I sat dutifully by his side whenever he needed someone to rant to about Mor. It practically ripped out my heart to hear him talk about how in love with her he was. I was the only person he would open up to like that. He would spend hours asking me for advice on how to woo her, and I grinned and bore it because, at the end of the day, I got to spend time with him.

I had been playing the girl best friend for hundreds of years. The moment I started to feel like he might be losing feelings for Mor in walked Elain. The beautiful sister of my brother's mate. What's worse? She seemed interested in Azriel as well.

Elain was easy to hate. Not just for her flirtations with Azriel but for the way she treated Lucien, her mate. Lucien had so much love for the Archeron, and she waved him off without another thought. I might be able to understand her reluctance to accept the bond if Lucien was a brute of a male, but he wasn’t. He was soft, kind and easy on the eyes.

I found him tossing rocks into the Sidra one day, no doubt pining over how Elain had barley even acknowledged the flowers he picked for her. That’s when I told him about Azriel and I’s bond. From that moment on we spent a great deal of time together, ranting about our unaccepted mating bonds. Even though we spent most of the time bitching, there was happiness. More than I had felt in a while.

Then starfall came…and everything changed.

“You look far too stunning not to be walking in with a date,” Lucien drawled to me from the outside of the townhouse.

I had spent all day getting ready for the annual party tonight. My dress was chosen specifically to catch Azriel’s attention, not that I felt like I would succeed.

“Well finding a date is harder than you think, especially at this hour,” I laugh as I walk through the gate he opened for me.

“Then indulge me,” he said. I turned to find him offering me an arm.

“You want to be my date?” I laugh light heartedly, admittedly smitten by the autumn court male.

“It’s a little last minute but I would be honored to walk into that room with you on my arm,” he said fondly.

I smiled and shook my head at the male before looping my arm in his and allowing him to lead me up the steps to the front door.

“You know, you clean up pretty well Lu,” I cock an eyebrow bumping into him.

“Thanks, your brother sets a pretty high standard as far as attire for this thing. Who knew he was such a fashionista?” Lucien grins before walking in the door arm and arm with me. I don’t even bother stifling the laugh I let out.

The room nearly fell silent at our entrance. Sure Lucien and I were close and everyone knew, but they had never seen us like this. Even Az and Elain stopped their oh so intriguing conversation to ogle. I swore I saw anger flit across Elain’s eyes, like she was dead set on owning both Az and Lucien.

Lucien and I spent the evening as wallflowers, doing our best to stay away from all the happy couples. We had even gotten to the point where we grabbed a bottle of wine off the table and brought it over to our couch, both of us tired of constantly getting up and down for refills.

It wasn’t until Az and Elain not so subtly got up and walked onto the balcony that we decided we had tortured ourselves enough. We promptly grabbed the bottle of wine and waltzed out of the townhouse not even bothering to say goodbye. I supposed it was that exact bottle that did us in.

I placed my hand on my apartment door, swaying slightly from the alcohol rushing to my head. Lucein’s hand found my hip, steadying me. While I assured him I would be fine to walk home alone, he insisted he came with me.

“Thanks,” I laughed unlocking the door.

“You’re welcome,” he chuckles, wobbling himself.

“I had a really good time with you tonight,” I say, placing a hand on his chest to steady myself.

“I had a good time too,” he smiled.

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how close we were. Lucien looked down at me, the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. The sudden tension between us was broken when he crashed his lips on mine.

One thing led to another and the next thing I knew I was lying bare beneath him as he fucked me like his life depended on it. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to get laid until he was buried inside me. Needless to say I understood why people said the Autumn Court males have fire in their blood.

That was a year ago and since then Lucien and I had decided to continue seeing each other in secret, both of us needing a way to release built up tension so to say. He often stayed the night and we would spend long hours talking about everything from the books we were reading to politics. The sex was amazing, for both of us, but it was the intimacy that came after that I think we both craved the most. An intimacy I would be seeking out shortly given the current topic of conversation between Azriel and I.

“Gods the other day she was weaning a light blue dress in the garden and I nearly fell to my knees before her,” Azriel ranted to me.

He had been going on and on about whether or not he wanted to finally make a move on Elain or not. And as his best friend I had to hear about every word of it.

“I saw it, it was a very pretty dress,” I acknowledge, turning the page of the book I was reading.

“I swear she blushed when I complimented it too, I think I’m making progress with her,” he went on to say.

“Maybe you should just put yourself out of your misery and talk to her Az,” I suggested for probably the tenth time.

“You know I can’t just barrel in there. She’s scared and I’m not going to freak her out even more. She will come to me when she’s ready. If she’s ready. Gods that’s assuming she even likes me,” he rambled.

I roll my eyes and shut my book so loudly it pulls the shadow singers attention. I give him a pointed look that has him startling back just a bit.

“I know that she likes you Az,” I deadpan.

“How can you be sure though?” he asks, throwing his head back on the arm of the couch.

“Because she would be an idiot not to,” I say with a hint of sadness.

Azriel looked to be at a loss for words, and I realized my words were much bolder than I had wanted them to be.

Clearing my throat I set my book down on the side table, knowing it will be waiting for me when I come back to my brother’s tomorrow. I stand and subtly adjust my dress.

“I have to go, but seriously Az, just tell her,” I say walking over to press a kiss to his forehead.

As I got to walk away I feel him grab my hand, placing a kiss to my open palm, “Thank you for listening y/n, really.” he says earnestly .

“Don’t worry about it Az, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say with a fake smile before setting off towards my modest home.

When Feyre moved into the townhouse I took it as my queue to move out, knowing my brother and his new mate would want privacy. Of course Rhysand offered me mansions and villas but I was content with a townhouse of my own in the middle of town. Big enough to have my own home library, and small enough to not feel so lonely.

I make my way down the cobblestone streets, the faelights casting a warm glow on the ground before me. It was late, and many couples were turning in for the night. I could see some cuddled up on their sofa’s through their windows, others were having a nightcap together outside Rita’s. I saw a couple rocking their newborn baby to sleep on the second floor of their home, and for some reason, that was the one that hurt the most to me.

I sighed as I walked up a few steps to my townhouse door. I unlocked the door and was greeted to the smell of jasmine and vanilla and the sound of a cracking fire. I walk up my steps to find Lucien sitting shirtless on my large bed, his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck. The male was the image of relaxation.

I had given him a key months ago. With the males many jobs, emissary to the night court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin, he needed a place to truly call home. For the past 9 months that had been here, with me. I never once objected to his subtle moving in, it was nice to come home to someone waiting for me, sometimes even a homemade meal. For him it was nice to have a place where he didn’t always have to put on a front. It was a win for both of us.

“When did you get in?” I ask kicking off my shoes.

“Just a couple hours ago. How was Azriel duty?” he asked, setting his book down as I began to strip off my cloak and dress leaving me only in my lingerie. It wasn’t uncommon for us to be so casual with one another.

“Exhausting, did you know that Elain wore a pretty blue dress the other day?” I mocked tossing my clothes into a dirty clothes bin, I noticed his missing shirt was there too.

“Unfortunately yes I did,” he chuckled. “You know what always makes me feel better though?” he smirks.

“I crawl up the bed towards him, “What?” I smile knowing what the answer will be.

“You,” he smirks, grabbing my hips and pinning me to the mattress beneath him, his lips pressing to mine.

“How funny I was about to say the same thing,” I laugh, feeling his lips tickle my neck as he makes his way further down my body.

His mouth trails the inside of my thighs before sliding my panties down my legs, each brush of his fingers from my hips to my ankles feeling like heaven. The male had been gone for a week, and I was desperate for release. He licks a long stripe up my center, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves at the top. My back arches off the bed and his hands find my waist to pin me down. I feel his tongue begin to lap at my clit as his fingers slide into me, no doubt finding the pool of wetness waiting there.

This is what me and Lu had always been good at, reading each other. When he had a stressful day I always made sure to make him feel good, and when I came back to the house upset he never hesitated to get on his knees for me. There was this unsaid rule that we would always take care of eachother.

Lucien’s tongue continues lapping my clit as his fingers curl to hit that spot inside of me that had me gasping for air. As I started to feel myself getting closer and closer he removed his mouth from me, drawing his fingers out slowly. One thing about hooking up for a year? You learn to read each other's bodies, and lord did the seventh son of Autumn know how to read mine.

“Lu!” I cry out frustrated.

“Shhh my darling,” he coos crawling up my body. “I simply want to cum with you tonight.” he smirked, seething himself inside of me.

“Oh gods!” I cry feeling him fill me thoroughly.

He pulls out and thrusts back in causing me to whimper once more. Mor was right about one thing, the autumn court males have fire in their blood and they fuck like it too.

“I missed you, missed this,” Lucien groans, his face contorted in pleasure as he builds a steady pace.

“I missed you too Lu,” I say through ragged breaths as he fucks into me like his life depends on it. Apparently the time apart made him needy as well.

I could hardly speak as he thrust deeper into me, his hands on my waist holding me steady so tha he could hit me as deep as possible. When I felt myself start to clench around him he doubled over, burying his head in my neck as his hips continued to snap into me.

My hands found his back clinging to the flesh there for an anchor, my walls fluttering around him one last time before I fell apart.The sudden sensation had Lucien biting my neck as he came with a low groan.

We spent a few moments catching our breaths, he pushed up on his arms and moved a stray hair from my face, assessing to see if he had hurt me, just like he always did. When he found no traces of pain in my face he rolled over, taking me with him so that I was lying on his chest.

This was always the part I think we both craved the most. The sex was great, amazing even. But I longed for a pair of arms to fall asleep in, and he longed for someone to hold. Meaningless pillowtalk just for fun.

“I mean it, I did miss you,” I sigh circling my arms around his waist.

“I missed you too, I hate sleeping in the spring court, it’s so cold and dark there now.” Lucien said, staring at the ceiling.

“How is Tamlin?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Terrible,” he muttered. “I had to talk him into letting me stay.” He continues playing with the ends of my hair.

“You’re a good friend for checking in on him though,” I say matter of factly.

“I still wish I could do more,” he sighs, pulling the covers up on the two of us.

“I understand,” I mutter keeping my head on his chest, staring at the fire that roars next to us.

A long beat of comfortable silence passes, normally I would fall asleep like this. I would sometimes wake to him being gone, sometimes he would wake to me being gone. Only on weekends would both be able to wake up and go to breakfast together. This was one of those weekends, but instead of falling asleep, Lucien spoke up.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, not taking his gaze from the ceiling.

“Sure,” I reply, waiting for a nonchalant inquiry. It wasn’t the first time he and I had played 20 questions to get to know each other more, though I thought that after a year of it we knew just about everything there was to know about the other.

“Would you agree that Azriel and Elain are never going to give us a chance?” he asked.

My heart twinges hearing his name, “Well Az doesn’t know, but even if he did I don’t think he would care. I’m not damsel in distress enough for him.” I snort recalling the unconscious type he has.

“I feel the same about Elain, and there’s something I’ve been thinking about, especially this past week,” he continues still facing the ceiling.

I prop my head up on his chest wanting to read his face and his eyes flit to me, “Cryptic Vanserra, but go on,” I laugh trying to break the tension.

“I’ve always been fond of you y/n ever since you visited the spring court all those years ago. Now that I’ve gotten to know you, that admiration has only grown, not to mention you’re a very beautiful female y/n,” he laughs at his own words, a tint of pink dusting his cheek and I can’t help but blush as well. “From the amount of time we’ve been spending together it seems you like me enough, and well…I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he says seemingly avoiding his main point.

I sit up more, intrigued by his words, “What do you mean Lu?” I inquire.

“I was wondering if you would like to be Mrs. Lucien Vanserra?” he finally says and my heart nearly stops at the shocking words. “I know I’m not Azriel, but consider me an alternative. I think we could make eachother genuinely happy, maybe help each other enjoy whatever we have left of this miserable life?” he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.

I let his words sink in as I stare at the bit of wall behind him. As I consider all that he’s said I realize that he’s right, we do get along. I had spent years trying to find a male to fill the hole Azriel put in my life, but it always felt wrong. It was as if I was taking someone else’s mate, even when the males didn’t have mates. It didn’t feel wrong being with Lucien because I knew that his mate also didn’t want anything to do with him.

I was tired of not always having someone to come home to. Not having someone to go to events with. Not having someone to spend holidays with. Not having someone to call my own. I was tired of being alone, especially since I had been alone for about 400 years, but no longer.

I smile down at Lucien’s nervous face, “I would be honored to be your wife,” I say.

“You would?” he beams.

“I would,” I repeated back to him. “You’re right, we do get along, and I’m tired of being alone too.”

He presses his lips to mine, both of us smiling into the kiss. We would never fill the sadness of a rejected mating bond, but we would be there for one another. I lay my head down on his chest again, feeling the sleep come into my eyes.

“How should we do it?” he asked, tracing shapes on my bare back.

“Hmm,” I thought for a moment. A big wedding seemed odd considering we weren’t mates or anything close to it. Eloping seemed more proper. “I think we should keep it small.”

“Do we tell them?” He ponders the most awkward question.

“We can tell them, but we don’t need to invite them. It can be a modified elopement, they will all know but we can just invite my brother and Feyre, that way we both have family there.” I answer snuggling into his warmth more.

“By the Cauldron I have to tell your brother I’ve been sleeping with you for over a year,” Lucien said anxiously, running a hand down his face.

I can’t help but laugh at his stress, “He might be a little mad, but I’m sure Feyre will be so excited about it that he won’t care.” I giggle.

I feel his body relax under my cheek, no doubt realizing that whatever the High Lady says will be law. He slides a red and gold ring off his pinky finger and slips it onto my left hand.

“Here, it’s a family ring,” he explains looking at the gaudy ring on my hand. While it fits on my finger well the jewel on it takes up my whole hand and looks unnatural. “I know I’m not part of the Autumn Court anymore but it’s all I have.” he continues.

“It’s perfect,” I laugh, inspecting the ill-fitting thing, “it’s an outcast just like us.”

Lucien's soft chuckle escapes him as he plants a gentle kiss atop my head. Tomorrow promises its usual dose of chaos, but that's a concern for another day. Tonight, here in bed with my fiancé, though this isn't the life I envisioned, I find myself flooded with a happiness I haven't felt in ages.

Part 2,

Part 3 (Lucien's Version)

Part 3 ( Azriel's Version)

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202

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bunny-jpeg · 3 months ago

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✿❯────「✿i'm get money, i'm a star - toto w.✿」────❮✿

"daddy." you said as you straightened out your back a little bit. you crossed your arms under your breasts and stuck them out a little more. but toto wasn't looking away from the morning paper. you shifted from one foot to another, "daddy!" you sounded a little more whiny. in all fairness you had been standing there for almost three minutes and your daddy still hadn't given you a lick of attention. his eyes on the paper, even your whines went on deaf ears.

you got closer to him and leaned forward, getting your breasts in the way of his paper. he looked at you, creases in his brow as he adjusted his glasses, "yes, mon cheri." you knew toto wolff was good with his tongue, you've seen him switch between languages with ease, and also that time he made you cum from three strokes of his tongue. you looked at him and he kept his gaze on your eyes. you pouted a little, "you're ignoring me." "i wasn't, treasure. i have to keep an eye on the economy if you want that trip of france next month." you didn't know what he was talking about, all you knew about the become was that green meant good and that toto had a lot of it. you said, "but, you were ignoring me."

even the most dangerous man in central europe wasn't immune to your puppy dog eyes.

toto wolff was smitten by you. if he wasn't they would've never found your body. toto wasn't fond of yappy idiots, but you were endearing. the way the light reflected off your eyes, how you were so eager to please, anything toto needed from you, he got. you were so gentle, you'd never survive outside of his grasp. you were safe with him. he knew the problem with most girls your age was that, they were too stubborn and didn't listen to an older guiding hand. such pretty things wasted on running their mouths. some need to sit there and look pretty. listen when being spoken to. you let his words soak in your brain and his cum soak in your panties. he was a scary mafia boss, the wolff from hell. and you were the little thing he picked up along the way. the tiny thing with the pouty lips and doe-like expressions. who rubs her pretty breasts all over him to get his attention and is whiny like a puppy. eventually you got into his lap and he put the paper down.

he kissed at your face for a moment, "you need manners, treasure. you cannot go around and become a brat. i trained you better." his rough words made you rub your thighs together as you clung to his t-shirt. you looked at him, his larger frame loomed over you like a domineering shading. it casted you in darkness as he looked at you. you giggled a little, "you look good in your glasses, daddy." he held you closer, "well, that's good to know. now, what does my treasure want? what was so important that you had to tell me right away." you giggled and licked your lips, then pressed your breasts up against him. your curious eyes gazed at him, "i missed you. i woke up and you were out of bed." he chuckled and held the back of your head with tenderness, "well, it's already past noon most would be out of bed by now. but not you, right, schatzi?" you nodded at him as you felt his hard cock against your lower back. you clung to him and he leaned in for a kiss as he held you close to him. you squirmed a little bit more and he kissed you again. you felt so delicate in his touch, you knew what he had done. the lives he had taken with his own hands. they were large and the strength to them could easily bruise you if not out right kill you. but with you he was much nicer, more aware of his strength. he was aware that when he got his fingers between one of your nipples, that he was holding onto you with a bruising pressure. he watched you whine and squirm at his touch. "needy girl." he said, "usually you're so good for me. don't tell me you are slipping. i'd hate to train you again, it was hard to house break you the first time." that his way of saying that he made sure that you were his ideal woman. and you happily accepted it. why would you deny your mafia lover. the big scary wolff. you rubbed your hips against his and said, "no, i've been good and i'll keep being good." and then made a small noise when he pressed his lips against yours. those were the words he liked to hear.

he wanted to hear you were good for him. when he finished groping your breasts he got you over the kitchen table. when he pulled down your sleeping shorts, he saw that you were not wearing panties. someone missed him, someone was thinking about him when they woke up. you felt his cock pressed against your back as he rubbed your clit with your shorts around your left ankle. he kept another hand wrapped around your throat. his voice was low in your ear as he rubbed his clothed cock up against your soaked pussy, "are you going to be good, schatzi, or?" you swallowed and arched your back and responded, "i'll always be good for you, daddy." you held onto the edge of the table and let yourself be tease. you pouted with your cheek against the expensive wood of the table. you should be thankful that he didn't rip your clothes off of you, it would've have been the first time he did that. your back arched when you felt him slide his cock into you, you whimpered a little bit and then pressed your cheeks against your crossed wrists for some kind of cushion against the unforgiving table. toto hissed through his teeth as he moved against you. his cock as deep as it could go and it felt like it was in your stomach. his pace was unforgiving, you were so good under him. you always were, a good little puppy for him. letting him use and abuse your sweet sex for his own pleasure, you knew every ache would be soothed with kisses and by the next day your daddy would buy you something pretty. only the best for the boss' pet.

you didn't need to think, just be at your knees like a good girl. be all smiles and delicate in your lover's grasp. and while you didn't need to think you had to be polite to toto's 'friends'. toto continued to move against you, your hips hitting against the edge of the table. the older man had to admit, getting a good feel of your pussy first thing in the morning was better than any coffee. it lit him like a wire and made him move harder against you. if the table was any lighter it would be moving against the floor. his hips gripped onto your hips as he kissed at your neck, his cock felt so good inside of you. it messed up your insides and made you pant heavily against the wood. you could barely form words, just 'daddy' coming out like a pathetic little chant. it only turned toto on further. you were toto wolff's pretty little thing, the shiniest diamond in his collection. he kissed at the side of your neck as he rutted against you. he listened keenly to your soft noises and felt something hot in his gut. you were beautiful. "always so good for me, treasure." he said, "under me like a good girl." his voice was rough and rubbed against the sides of your head perfectly. you felt flushed as you tried to keep up with his rapid pace. when you came, your pretty pink nails gripped onto the flat surface of the table, you whined against the your wrists and it only fueled his fire. "please, daddy." you said softly.

he was a dangerous man, but he always found a softness between your legs. he angled your hips a little higher, putting you on your tip-toes and pushed you further against the table. it rocked against his hard thrusts as he panted heavily against your heated skin. his words were mush in your over stimulated brain, but it made you feel hot. "you look beautiful like this. under me. you know exactly how to get the attention you want. you're a needy little whore, but that's alright. i'll give you all the attention you want." he kissed the shell of your ear before he gave a few more heavy thrusts of his hips. soon he finished inside of you with a heated groan. he didn't want to admit that his legs were a little wobbly as he came down from the high. that was the effect of your wet cunt. when he pulled out, he shoved two fingers inside of your slick hole once more, he loomed over you as he battered your pussy with his thick digits. the roughness of the tips dragging across your more sensitive areas has you whimpering. toto was far from finished with you.

if you wanted daddy's attention so badly, then he'd give it to you in spades.

maybe begging for attention wasn't the smartest idea, but as you laid out on the table, sweaty and hot, the thought didn't cross your mind. only your lover's thick fingers making a further mess of your pretty pussy.

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wonryllis · 11 months ago

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✶ ENHYPEN REVEALING THEIR IDOL!S/O

. . ──𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋.

﹙ 𝒘𝐞𝐛 ⭑ 𝒅𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝓁𝓈. ﹚ idol!enhypen staking their claim publicly. fem!r. fluff, fluffff and fluffff. requested. wordcount` 677. アーカイブ ARCHIVE?

PLS REBLOG!!!!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 he makes a song for you as a birthday gift and posts it on soundcloud as a surprise, tweeting about it as "my gift for you, love" and everyone is loses it because one it's sounds too intimate for it to be about fans and two it's your birthday. there's so much rumours and people shipping you both and dying over how sweet and boyfie heeseung is. literally in a day there's edits going around and fans finally notice the subtle signs. later on with the company's permission he reveals it at a show when asked about the song.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 he won't, trust he would never want to let the relationship go public knowing the hate you both could possibly get. so if fans ever come to know of it, then it is through the early dispatch tradition of revealing celeb couples. he will let the company handle it first and check up on how you are doing. then when things have calmed down a bit he will personally write a letter in his classic style expressing his love both for you and his fans and how much you both mean to him, his two worlds.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 he's so unserious but serious as well? like he will make sure by his life he doesn't get caught with you in public. but he will have these love sick eyes and smitten face while looking at you during shows and tiktok challenges and when he's watching you perform and when your song comes up anywhere. fans had always been suspicious of the guy being absolutely in love and their first guess was someone from your group and it was proved when you both mutually decided to make an official statement.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 my guy will literally drop the bomb through an social media post, twitter, weverse, instagram any or all he'll post a picture of you both from behind the scenes from an interaction you had in the past captioned "my girl!" and the just dip. fans won't hear from him for a week until he accidentally pops into one of the members' live. probably jungwon who asks him how he's doing and he'll go like yeah life's been great, i just came back from a date with y/n, it was fun. jungwon left stunned.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎 he constantly wants to make it public but the pr team just wouldn't let him? so he decides to do the undo, he runs home on a weekend, invites you with him and does a live with you together! let the pr team be damned, ignoring the calls and messages as you both giggle while starting a new live every time the staff ends it. making the fans go crazy over the situation when they put two and two together and figure it all out. he'll also simultaneously answer the fans' questions on weverse.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 he will literally beg the management to let you both attend a show together most probably something like running man and then he will make a sneaky little perfect plan to show the fans just how good and compatible you two look, playing the knight in shining armour and helping you even though you are in the opposing team. he just wants to convey silently to everyone his love for you through his actions before he drops the ultimate news through an official announcement.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 it was accidental, completely an accident. he just meant to change the twitter account layout to prank the fans but instead of the ugly picture of one of his hyungs, he ended up putting a picture of you both from your last date. and even though it was only for a few minutes before he changed, fans had already taken screenshots and tons of rumours had already started spreading. so he says fuck it and after going through the reactions for a few hours he's posting the same pic again, texting you about it later as if you haven't already been flooded by your fans.

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @belowbun @ro-diaries

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 year ago

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After Starcourt, Steve finally managed to get a date. He actually liked her, too. She was nice, smart, and completely smitten over the fact that he was fond of the kids he babysat. Apparently, she didn't take it too well that Dustin followed him onto his date. She left before Dustin came back from the bathroom.

"Hey, where's Lydia?" Dustin asked.

"Oh, her parents called the theater. Apparently, there was a family emergency," Steve shrugged.

"Oh, that sucks. You were really looking forward to it," Dustin frowned. "More popcorn for us."

He made his way over to the concession stand. Steve didn't have the heart to tell him the real reason why she left. Dustin's had a hard time lately since the mall, and from what Claudia told him, he's been having nightmares lately. He didn't have to say anything, but Steve figured the reason why Dustin's been clinging to both him and Robin lately was because he felt guilty about them getting hurt. Robin had agreed with him on that theory. He didn't mind it much. He loved spending time with Dustin, someone he thought of like a little brother, and he knew Robin had come to think of him like that, along with Erica. It was where Robin was currently at "babysitting" for the Sinclairs while they had their own date night. As much as she complained, Erica had wormed her way into Robin's heart. Once they got their drinks and popcorn, they found a couple of seats up front.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" A voice asked.

"No," Steve replied with looking, and he almost did when he felt leather brush up against his arm.

"Steve?" Dustin asked.

"Yeah?"

"Your date stood you up because of me, didn't she?" Dustin asked.

"What? No!" Steve said quickly.

"You're a terrible liar, Steve," Dustin whispered. "But that's okay, Steve, I still think you're my brother."

"Well, you know, if she doesn't understand that my little brother is important to me, then she's not worth my time," Steve whispered.

"You guys are terrible whisperers," a voice from Steve’s other side said. "Also, totally adorable."

Steve turned and found that Eddie Munson was sitting on his other side.

"Do you know this guy, Steve?" Dustin asked.

"Eddie Munson," the man himself introduced. "Didn't know Steve Harrington had a nerdy little brother."

"I adopted him," Dustin replied. "Besides, Steve’s not just a jock. He's a nerd, too."

"No, I'm not," Steve scoffed.

"Please, I found the comic books under your bed," Dustin hissed.

"What the hell did I tell you about going through my stuff, you little shit?" Steve hissed back.

"You really are brothers," Eddie grinned.

"Hey, Eddie, you're a guy," Dustin said suddenly.

"That's what it says on my birth certificate," Eddie replied.

"Do you know why a guy would keep his muscle magazines with his playboys? Do you think it's a jock thing?" Dustin asked.

"Oh my god!" Steve exclaimed, mortified.

Steve could feel Eddie watching him with curious eyes, and he waited for his reaction.

"You know, it must be a jock thing," Eddie said. "I think if I were your brother, I'd give you hell for digging through his private things."

Dustin sighed and rolled his eyes, but Steve took this as a sign that he's thinking about how wrong he was. The movie was about to start. Suddenly, Eddie leaned so close to him that Steve could feel his hair tickling his cheek, his breath in his ear.

"It's not just jocks who put their muscle magazines with their playboys," Eddie whispered and paused briefly, moving in closer until his lips were brushing up light against his ear. "Big boy."

Eddie sat back in his seat, leaving Steve flushed. His heart was pounding in his ears, and suddenly, his crush on Eddie came roaring back. Steve cursed mentally as he tried to focus on the movie and not on the fact that Eddie was leaning more heavily against his arm. His pinky was brushing up against his. At some point, Eddie started running over his hand, drawing circles into his skin. His touch was setting him on edge, and it was making his brain go all fuzzy.

"Bathroom," Steve said gruffly and stood up quickly.

He was grateful that there wasn't anyone in the bathroom when he went it. It allowed him to catch his breath. It was crazy how one single moment could bring out all of the feelings that he shoved inside of him when he was just a freshman, a freshman who has seen the most beautiful boy ever. He honestly hadn't felt this way since Nancy, and honestly, it was baffling. Just one little moment, and he was crazy about him again. Suddenly, the door opened, and Steve looked through the mirror as Eddie walked into the restroom. They made eye contact, and he raised a questioning eyebrow at him as he locked the door. Suddenly, Steve was moving and pressing Eddie up against the door as he kissed him. Eddie pulled him closer by his hips as he kissed him back. Of course, it didn't last long before someone wanted in. They broke the kiss, and Eddie quickly disappeared into a stall before Steve could unlock. The man walked in and frowned at him.

"Uh, the door got stuck," Steve said.

"I heard the lock, young man," he said.

Steve slipped by him and hurried back to his seat. Eddie soon came back, a grin on his face. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and started writing his number on Steve’s hand.

"Call me when you're ready to have a date without your brother," Eddie whispered. "I really do appreciate people who collect lost sheep."

Steve grinned. Things were looking up. Suddenly, he was very grateful that Lydia stood him up.

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #joseph quinn #steve harrington #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #bisexual eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #bi4bi #dustin henderson #henderfam #henderdads #stranger things fanfiction #rueleigh writes

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fanaticsnail · 9 months ago

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Beautiful

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: Big Mom has found her son, Charlotte Katakuri, a partner she deemed worthy enough for him to court for matrimony. While he is smitten immediately with you, he is determined to make a good impression on you by not revealing his face. Your curiosity gets the better of you.

Warnings: Katakuri x f!reader, talks of husband and wife, use of bride, massaging face, fluff, so fluffy.

Notes: wrote this half-dazed at 6:30am this morning because @gingernut1314 decided she needed the big man in her life and the brain-worm got me. Here he is, the big guy all for you, sweetheart. Art link

Tag List: @feral-artistry @i-am-vita @indydonuts @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Being courted by the Minister of Flour was not something you had ever pictured to be highlighted on your impressive resume. When you first received an invitation from the Charlotte family to venture to Komugi island, this was not an outcome you predicted for yourself.

Charlotte Katakuri, the second son and third child of Big Mom, was told to find a bride. His orders were received, the date of his nuptials set, and his suit picked out for such an excitable occasion. The only thing that had not been set in stone was the partner joining him at his side after their soft march down the aisle.

Your family was titled, strong, and one of the only families Big Mom had deemed worthy enough to usher in a new generation of pirates to join in taking the Charlotte name. Katakuri had no choice but to obey his mother, apprehensively accepting the terms of an arranged marriage against his own desires to simply live to protect his siblings, nieces, and nephews. While this was out of his control, what he could control was how his intended bride depicted him.

He could continue to shield his face from you. His rationale was as such, “If they never view my face, they would never have reason to fear me.” And so he did as such, hiding his face beneath the fur shroud from the moment he met you, and every courtship session soon thereafter. As he laid his eyes on you for the first time, he was immediately smitten. Taken by your appearance alone, and your willingness to sign your name beside his on the registry to set your intentions to wed in stone, he could never be more proud to have a partner such as you.

As his trust in you began to build, he slowly allowed you into his heart, and shared his burdens with you as Minister of Flour. He confided in you, relishing in your company as he openly courted you under the watchful chaperone of his younger sister, Charlotte Brûlée.

One such occasion, he laid out a blanket for you and drew out a large wicker basket from behind his back. He presented you with an assortment of baked sweets and pastries with a soft blush dusting his cheeks beneath the fur shroud. While you accepted the treats with gratitude, you instead placed it beside you and knelt on the blanket, tapping your lap and asking him to lay on his back.

“Tell me about your day, intended. I want to know every detail,” you smiled mischievously up at him. He cautiously stole a look at Brûlée, who emphatically ushered him to do as he was told with flailing hands.

Lowering himself onto the mat beside you, he awkwardly shifted himself to attempt to do as you asked. Rolling your eyes, you reach your hands up to his shoulder and gently guide his larger form to lay his head in your lap. His entire head was the size of both of your thighs together, but you had no qualms or complaints about it.

“Come on, I don't bite,” you reassured him with a soft laugh, “Let me hear about your journeys abroad. Tell me anything that you want, you have my complete attention.” He was a giant, but so incredibly gentle and sweet to those he deemed as family.

Coaxing his head onto your lap, he immediately drew his hand up to his mask and secured it over his lips to keep his mouth and teeth hidden from your sight. You chose to ignore this, drawing your fingers up and settled him atop your thighs as he slowly, quietly spoke about his life to you.

While Charlotte Katakuri was immediately taken by you in the registry office with your family and his, you were horrified by the sight that was met with you. You had heard stories about some of the Charlotte's being of unusual size and stature, but you had no idea exactly how tall your intended was. His form was almost three times your size, his intimidating appearance did nothing to stifle your nerves.

Believing to have masked your concerns at the nuptuals well enough to be believable, your nerves all but melted away the moment his soft, soothing voice checked in with you afterwards. Charlotte Katakuri was a sweetheart, a 504cm tall sweetheart with such softness within his hardened exterior.

Reclining his head on your lap, you rubbed at his plum-colored hair as he spoke about adventures away from Komugi. His hand gestures out in a flurry in front of his chest, pointing to the sky as he speaks so eloquently to you. Although he does not yet trust you enough for you to reveal his face, your curiosity begins to gnaw at the seams.

You start to lower his inhibitions by massaging his scalp, scruff of his neck and forehead. His hair pricks your skin as your skillful touch chips away at his woes and worries. His voice quietens further as he closes his eyes as your hands firmly press against his forehead. You needed to see your soon to be husband’s face, you desperately craved to know what was going on beneath the furs.

As he leans into your touch, he seemingly forgets about the shroud over his mouth hiding his sharpened teeth from you. He is in bliss beneath your hands, and he slips away into a world carved by your palms and fingertips. Your hands dip deeper, lower into his cheeks, your digits feeling his muscles relax their tension beneath your fingers.

Smiling to yourself softly as he gasps at such sweetness befalling from you to him, he parts his lips gently. He arches his head further into your lap, the shroud finally lowering and revealing his sharp teeth and unnaturally widened mouth. His jaw falls slack as his brow becomes relaxed.

You crave to coo at his vulnerability, truly enjoying empathetically how much he allowed himself to relax into your soft touch. This hardened general, this pirate minister, this older brother to so many siblings in the Charlotte family, was as malleable as rice flour mochi beneath your skilled digits. You took in his appearance, almost relieved at feeling the twin slits up his lips as you looked down at him with nothing but pure adoration.

You were immediately in love with what you saw, your heart beating heavily against your ribcage as a warm flush rose to your cheeks. You loved him, all of him.

Brushing your hands over his cheeks, you silently and slowly commit his face to memory like reading a marble carving with a simple touch. He is gorgeous, and you remember to tell him so when he snaps out of his tranquility and looks at you with accusing eyes the moment he realized you slipped the shroud over his chin.

“What are you doing?” he growls quietly, “Why did you do that? I don't want you to fear me-...” A soft gasp flees from your lips as you take him completely in. His lips split up his cheeks in an unnatural slit through symmetrical scars, his sharp fangs extend up on his lower jaw and over his lips.

Although he feels slightly betrayed at the way you managed to easily reveal his face, his betrayal is eclipsed by shock and awe when he meets your eyes.

“I-I just…” you trail off, your body cowering away in response to his anger, but your eyes still depict the emotion you so desperately desired to show him, “...-I just wanted to know. I wanted to see.” Charlotte Brûlée watched the interaction with interest, her own shock evident on her face.

She witnessed the entire interaction with your hands on his face, almost calling out to warn her brother his face was going to be revealed, but quietly hoping you would fall in love with him further. She knew you loved him, knew you wanted to see him, and trusted you enough with her older brother that she knew you would love him more the moment his fangs and scars were brought into the light.

He was expecting fear, disgust, anguish and anger to be met in your curious gaze. But all you held in those calm and half-lidded orbs was pure trust, love, and pure adoration. His shock was adamant as he nervously floated his eyes between your gaze. His thumb and index finger circled around your much smaller hand, hovering it over his cheek as you felt your heart soar at the vulnerability.

“And now that you have?” his whisper came out more like a gasp, his voice breathy and craved to hear you say you weren’t afraid. He needed to know you did not fear his appearance, his wordless prayers spoken within his mind’s eye the longer your gaze soaked in his sight.

You placed your unoccupied hand on his cheek, leaning in closer to his face and your lips curling into a soft, innocent and intimate smile. Caressing his cheek, you cocked your head to the side and finally uttered a single word he truly did not ever think he would hear.

“Beautiful.”

#one piece #x reader #charlotte katakuri #katakuri #katakuri x reader #katakuri one piece #op katakuri #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #one piece romance #writing for a beautiful moot

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machveil · 5 months ago

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Don't think about a Konig that has a smidgen of confidence due to everyone telling him his crush is down bad for him, and also maybe a little liquid courage, walking up behind them, loud enough to where they can hear him but not so loud that they turn around. Don't think about him gently reaching around to set his fingers on their throat, not a chokehold but just resting the tips of them on their skin, tilting their head up to make eye contact while unintentionally giving them bedroom eyes. -🐸

I’m definitely not thinking about that 🐸 anon… but if I were to—

CW: mentions of sex, masturbation (König), Tipsy!König, real Loser!König energy with this one ngl

can you really blame König when people notice how smitten he is with you? he can hardly help it, Maus. the poor man looks like a lost puppy following you around base! can you blame König when you smile up at him, talk so sweetly to him - it’s not his fault that his heart twists with affection and heat settles in his gut when you’re around

he’s just absolutely taken with you, someone who treats him - the feared and respected Colonel, a man who towers over everyone at KorTac - with seemingly unconditional love? well, König thinks it’s love, whether you’re feelings reflect that or not. he’s so starved of affection that simply looking in his direction gets his palms sweaty

he can’t help it that his teammates, let alone other soldiers, catch on to his infatuation. he’s oblivious to his own behavior - constantly staring, trailing behind you - looming over your figure, trying to get your attention. it’s almost comical watching the man crush on you

and he’s crushing hard. he can’t get you out of his thoughts - how cute would you look wearing his shirt? what would you look like sitting on his lap? would you like his room? his bedsheets? what’s hidden beneath his mask? can you really blame him when he’s under his covers thinking about you - strained against his boxers despite his desperate attempts to sleep

hearing your voice is enough for him to get him hot and bothered, and when you’ve touched him in passing? he’s thankful the mask hides his flushed cheeks, if only he could stop his blood from flowing south. it’s innocent — your fingers grazing his when you pass something to him, but the contact has his veins on fire! just that fleeting moment, barely feeling your skin against his, has shame burning in his chest as he palms himself

would your hands feel soft against his - wrapped around him? would he be able to smell your shampoo if he held you close - face pressed to your neck as he ruts into you? it feels like he’s been submerged, sounds muffled like he’s underwater, he’s drowning, being pulled under by thoughts of you

it all comes crashing down like waves when he lets out a strained gasp - he’s coming up for air as he ruins his underwear. if only it wasn’t a regular occurrence, the thought of your thighs around him, nails digging against his back

but, when König hears that you like him? he’s nearly shaking down the soldier he heard it from - wildly seeking confirmation that it’s true. his jaw practically goes slack when he’s told it’s common knowledge around base - it’s not, a few soldiers thought it’d be funny to prank the intimidating Colonel that has an obvious soft spot for you

it’s really not his fault, Maus, not when those soldiers talk about it like it’s a fact, lying through their teeth with their full chests - maybe it’s their confidence that sells König, or maybe it’s that burning hope flickering in his chest. he wants to say something to you, he needs to hear you say it - and he wouldn’t be able to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth

Ich liebe dich

but he can’t, not with his heart pumping - the sound ringing in his ears. his nerves are set on fire again, different this time. and unlike when he’s alone in his room, putting the embers out by hand, he turns to liquid courage

he’s half a bottle deep before he decides he can do something, just a push to make small talk. that all flies out the window when he lays eyes on you - dressed in civvies, walking away from your friends and pulling your phone out. he’s already crossing the threshold, legs moving with a mind of their own

the soft thud of his boots against the floor go unnoticed by you, too distracted to care, or too used to the idle sound of chatter and people moving around. suddenly, veins that were running hot feel ice cold as he stands behind you, eyes half lidded as he brings his hand up

a gruff chuckle rumbles in his chest when you jump at the contact, his palm pressing to your neck. fingers carefully wrapped around your throat - he groans a little when he feels you nervously swallow, thumb grazing your jaw. “Liebling.”, accent thick, whether it’s from the booze or not, the need in his voice is evident

pointer finger tucked under your chin, he carefully nudges your jaw upwards. head tilting up, he ever so slightly squeezes your throat - icy gaze cast down at you, a satisfied hum resonates in his chest, “I think we need to talk, Maus, ja?”, voice low as he cocks his head to the side

”Mm, such a little thing—“, he coos, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb halfheartedly placed against your cheekbone, “Die Dinge, die ich mit dir machen möchte, Süße.”, he softly murmurs

he catches the confused glint in your eyes when he speaks, your eyebrows knit. just when you’re about to question him - are you okay? König, what’s wrong? you’re cut off before you can even speak. “Oh? You don’t understand me? Das ist schade.”, he tuts, lightly patting your cheek

“Why don’t we practice some German, ja?”, smiling under his mask, he gently tilts your head back a little more, “Speak for me. Say ‘Ich liebe dich’ for me, Maus.”

#CW: google translate #wet sock of a man<3 #konig #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #tipsy!könig #loser!könig #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig headcanons #cod #cod thoughts #call of duty #cod x reader smut #hit post

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yandere--stuck · 6 months ago

Text

Bad Idea, Right? (Yandere!Stanley Pines x Reader)

Stan was stupid. Stupid, irrational, impulsive, selfish, arrogant, aggressive. A liar, a traitor, a cheat, a thief. Everything everyone has ever said about him was true, and he had the gall to try to convince anyone otherwise. The town, his family, you, even himself.

But this, this right here, had cemented the facts. Stanley Pines was a monster who didn't care about anyone but himself. Not really. He'd finally fucked up bad enough. Dug a hole so deep that even he couldn't crawl out of it.

God. He had his face in his hands, rubbing the skin in frustration. How would he get out of this? Could he? Was it really too late?

With a sigh, Stan looked up. He sat in Ford's underground laboratory, having taken a seat in front of the desk overlooking the portal. He turned to look at you - still asleep in the bed Stan had dragged down here long before he'd enacted his plan.

The guilt made his stomach turn. The guilt in knowing that, really, this wasn't impulsive. This was planned.

He couldn't help it. Or maybe that's what he told himself so he could go through with it. He should've kept his boundaries up. He should've chased you off. He should have never hired you in the first place!

Ugh, but it wasn't like Stan wanted this to happen! How was he supposed to know he'd end up falling for you? Look, maybe if you hadn't been so chummy and sweet to him, trying to make him come out of his shell and lower his guard, acting all cute and like you knew you had him wrapped around your little finger and… No, no, this was all wrong. This wasn't your fault. This was all on him.

You were just a nice person. You had been a good and helpful employee, and then, as you grew to know each other more, a good friend. He just found himself magnetized to you. He loved cracking jokes and just talking with you, drinking in your affection and attention like a man dying of dehydration. And not to mention how good you were with the kids! The fact that they liked and looked up to you only further instilled his fondness for you.

It was almost embarrassing how smitten he was with you. God, it made him feel like a young man again, even long after he should've called off love for good, considering all his failed marriages. He could only hope it wasn't obvious, especially considering what he'd done now. He at least couldn't recall a time when he'd referred to you as a honey-wasp-kitten-baby.

Stan found himself wanting you to depend on him. To be your hero. To take care of you. And now look at what he'd done. You were an innocent victim of an obsessive freak. You had opened your heart to him and found it in you to care about this old scumbag, and this was how he repaid you.

Dipper and Mabel had gone off doing something with Wendy and her friends in the evening. He'd been able to push Soos out of the shack early enough after closing. No witnesses. Anything could have happened on your walk home, after all.

It had been easy to insist you stay for dinner. And it'd been even easier to mix all sorts of shit into your drink with you none the wiser. There was a reason he didn't bring up his past around you.

A sudden whimper startled him from his thoughts, the man’s posture going ramrod straight for a moment before scrambling to your side. Concern was etched into his features as he watched your face scrunch up as you came to.

Your vision swam, the room above you was spinning as you awoke. You could swear at least four Stans circled above you, just as unfocused as everything else - so much so that it hurt just to keep your eyes open.

Your eyes fell shut as you let out a groan. “...Stan?”

You wouldn't know how Stan's heart nearly leapt from his chest, hearing you say his name like that.

His hands immediately closed around yours, giving them a squeeze. “Yeah, yeah, it's me. I'm right here. I'm right here, sweetheart.”

The pet name tasted like bile in his mouth. As if he deserved to call you that.

“Wha’ happened,” You slurred. “I feel sick…”

A hand clamped over his mouth. His stomach did a flip. God, he was gonna be sick himself. First, he ruined his brother's life, then his own, and now he was ruining yours. That's so like him. This was so like him.

“Yeah,” Stan started, almost breathless. “You're sick, honey. But, I'm gonna take care of you, okay? Everything’s gonna be alright.”

His heart skipped a beat when you didn't reply. Pressing a finger to the pulse point on your throat, he held his breath and listened to the frantic beating of his own heart. Then, he exhaled in relief. Just sleeping. Of course.

Stan stood above you for a moment, looking over you. He could turn back now. He could bring you back upstairs and let you sleep on the couch. In the morning, he could fake being ill and blame it on his cooking. You could go home, he’d give you time to sleep it off and everything would go back to normal and you'd have no idea!

Then, Stan sighed. He could do all that. He could do it right now. But, he wouldn't. Because he didn't want to. He had wanted you right here, and he had you. No amount of guilt would ever make him give you up.

Stan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

This was just who he was. And it may be his fault, but you needed him now. He needed to be responsible for you. He needed to take care of you. He needed to be your hero. He needed to be needed by you.

And that's just what he'd do.

#yandere gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #yandere stan pines #yandere stan pines x reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #stanley pines x reader #yandere stanley pines #yandere stanley pines x Reader #x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #tw drugging #drugging #noncon drugging

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pomefioredove · 8 months ago

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FLIRTY PROMPTS FLIRTY PROMPTS!!!

May I ask for "I just want you to be happy! And perhaps a little bit naked." with Lilia, pretty please 🥺

I've been looking forward to this oneeee

summary: "I just want you to be happy! and perhaps a little bit naked" type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is probably yuu, not proofread, Malleus being Lilia's wingman instead of the other way around for once LOLLL a part of this event

"Come on, just one taste?"

Lilia pouts; he knows the power he wields with his cuteness, and he somehow finds a way to use it in every possible situation.

"I worked so hard!"

Your gaze drifts from the bowl of... something he's holding out to you to Silver and Sebek as they shake their heads behind him, trying to save you from your fate.

"...I just ate," you say. Silver sighs with relief.

Lilia huffs. "Again? What does the cafeteria food have that mine doesn't?" Silver opens his mouth, and Sebek shoots him a glare.

"Oh, well... More for me!"

You watch, shaking your head as the elder fae leaves the lounge, the warm bowl of brown sludge cupped between his hands.

Silver and Sebek follow, the latter grilling the former about respect.

"My... what do we have here?"

Malleus, for as tall and imposing as he is, appears in the lounge without a sound, filling the vacancy that the others had left behind.

"Lilia's cooking," you say. "He's been getting really into it lately."

Malleus blinks. And then he laughs. "Ah... aha. I thought I smelled something burning again. He really is quite smitten with you, isn't he?"

"Smitten?"

Now, that's a new one. You can't help but smile, deflecting the word in a single awkward laugh. "I don't think so,"

Malleus raises his brow, as if surprised by your denial. As if it should be obvious...

What a silly thought.

"Do you doubt my sincerity, child of man? I haven't seen Lilia so taken with anyone in... some time. He's rather adamant on impressing you with such things,"

He gestures to the bitter scent wafting from the kitchen.

You want to say that's not possible; Lilia is flirtatious by nature, but actually being interested in you...? Let alone going out of his way to woo you...?

You turn towards the arched doorway that Lilia had left from earlier. Malleus follows your gaze with a subtle smile.

"Well... I have a club meeting to attend. Good evening, child of man... unless you would like to join?"

"What?" you look back to him like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uh... no, not this time. Thank you, though."

He gives you another knowing smile and takes his leave without another word, departing and deserting you with your thoughts in the lounge.

You're not alone for long.

"Still here?"

A streak of black and pink drops down from the ceiling in front of you, changing the feel of the room to one of mirth and mischief.

Lilia smiles, studying your pensive expression carefully. "Fufufu... have you changed your mind? Want a taste of my soup after all?"

"No," you blurt out. He laughs at your nervousness.

"Oh, my... did I startle you? And here I was, starting to think that you'd grown used to my surprises..."

You roll your eyes at the tease in his voice and take a generous step back. His distaste for personal space is the last thing you need right now...

"That's not it. I was just... talking... to Malleus..."

Lilia narrows his eyes. The crimson is even more striking in the dark of the lounge... "Oh? About?"

"Nothing," you lie. It's pretty obvious. "...You."

"Little old me?" he asks, shuffling a little closer. He says it like a question, though he's not really looking for an answer.

...Almost like he already knows. Why do you suddenly feel so nervous?

"He was just... speculating..." you say. "...About you and I."

Vague... but not vague enough. Lilia seems to understand what you're implying immediately, another impish grin playing at his lips.

"Was he? And what did he say?"

You force a laugh; it's all you have left. "It's... it's funny, he thinks that you've been doing all these nice things to impress me because... because you like me,"

Lilia goes silent for a moment, cradling his chin in his palm as he watches you deflect the undeniable tension with another laugh.

And then, he starts giggling along with you.

"Fufufu... Oh, how innocent... mm, yes. Malleus is a smart boy, but he lacks social awareness. Otherwise, he would know I am not trying to woo you with cooking..."

You force another chuckle, though this one sounds weaker, scratchier. Of course, you should have known.

The chances that Lilia actually likes you... like-likes you... that he even thinks of you as attractive...

"I just want you to be happy..." Lilia goes on, his smile as merry as ever. "And... perhaps a little bit naked."

Pause.

He's always had a terrible enjoyment of pulling the rug out from under you, but this is almost insidious.

Lilia seems to enjoy your speechlessness, his grin only widening.

"Oh, my... you look flustered. I truly hope you didn't take my homemade meals as flirting, otherwise, you're in for quite a surprise.

...because I haven't even started yet,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

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dipperscavern · 6 months ago

Text

THE BET - JON SNOW

pairing: jon snow x gn!reader, 4.2k words

synopsis: you’ve made a bet with jon snow — now begs the question, who will come out on top?

authors note: i heard the call for jon snow content, and this idea came to me in the middle of the night wearing dobby the elfs tea cozy. enjoy! <3 [ @eldrith ]

jon snow never considered himself a betting man.

he never considered himself a blushing one, either — or a swooning one. until he met you.

you bring out the best in him, it’s true. but you also (somehow) bring to light his playful side, the one he thought he left behind in winterfell; along with the games he, robb, and theon used to play, the peace of the godswood, the smell of the kitchens wafting through the corridors (stick them with the pointy end).

he had left it all at winterfell on purpose. he needed to shed jon, shed the princely stark-ness he’d grown up with (though he’d never consider himself a real one), and replace it with the black he adorned on his shoulders. ever since he knelt before the weirwood, swearing vows in the sight of the old gods, he was no longer boy — but man. and with that, he left the boyish attributes, replacing them by those of men. warriors. or, at least, he’d like to believe.

partaking in bets was one of the most boyish things he could do, but truly, he could not chide himself for it if he tried. it involves you — it involves making you smile. and that, he will never register as a thing needing scolding, even if it’s only internally.

it was painfully obvious to you and jon the way samwell tarly looked at gilly, daughter of the devil. you would know, it’s how you and jon spend your time looking at one another. sam is head over heels for gilly, always helping her to the best of his abilities, advocating for her, looking at her as if she hung the stars and the moon… yes, samwell tarly was smitten.

you and jon both knew gilly was taken with sam. gilly knew she was taken with sam. the only one who didn’t know gilly was taken with sam, was sam himself.

you and jon are rather protective over sam and gilly both, so while you’d kill and die for them, you’ve left their feelings to be sorted out themselves. of course, you give advice when asked, and perhaps give one a nudge in the right direction on occasion, but is it really meddling if it’s for a good cause?

the true reason sam had kept his feelings to himself so far, was an extremely sweet one. he didn’t want gilly to think he was just using her, or didn’t genuinely care for her. he didn’t want her to be able to look at him and see her father. well, that, and he was shy — but that was one of the things you and jon liked about sam. it somehow made him sweeter.

either way, even with his profound saint-like mindset, you could tell sam was getting closer to telling gilly how he really felt. you saw the way he would open his mouth to say something, how gilly would give him her full attention, then how he’d shrink back down, letting his nerves get the best of him.

sam only grew more frustrated as time went on (never with gilly, only himself). when asked, sam would stumble out something like-

“Gilly — oh, right, she’s um — she’s great...” with a defeated look in his eye, leaving before you could ask further.

staring at her (more than usual), never being able to fully concentrate when she was near. he’d always start to approach her, then let his nerves steer him in the other direction. gilly was now all sam could think about, it being the only topic of conversation jon could coax out of him. sure, it began to drive jon fairly mad, but it was better than the grumbling silence you’d endured at the start of his romantic-turmoil. samwell tarly was nearing the edge of insanity, and you & jon could both tell it wouldn’t be long yet. so, naturally, you’d made a bet.

“You know, I think Sam’s really gonna do it.”

your voice cut through the silence as you and jon cleaned up the mess hall. right now, you were looking out a window, watching sam and gilly have a conversation. sam was fidgeting, the way he always does when he’s nervous.

“You must not know him very well, then.” jon says. you turn to give jon an exasperated look, barely concealing the roll of your eyes. he looks up at you, and you see the upward quirk of his lips that tells you he finds this — the joint disagreeing — truly enjoying.

“I mean it,” you say, touching your tongue to the roof of your mouth, turning back to resume observing them. as gilly and sam share a smile, a noise akin to one you’d make seeing a small puppy rises from the back of your throat, voice softening. “Awh— Jon, look at them.”

this does the trick of grabbing jon’s attention, and he stops his table-scrubbing to come join you at the window. he shakes his head, exhaling through his nose. “It’ll never happen,” he says.

“Gods, Snow,” the use of his surname in place of your usual (honey-dripping) ‘jon’ has his head snapping to you. “I didn’t take you for faithless.”

the chuckle jon lets slip has shivers crawling up your spine. you choose to ignore it. “I only mean,” he says, re-wetting his scrub brush. “that Sam is one to take it slow.” you turn to give him a look that has him backtracking.

“Slower than he has been,” he clarifies. he looks to you, and takes your lack of response as acceptance, moving to resume his table-scrubbing. you resume as well, and a few seconds pass before you stop, looking at jon with newfound defiance.

“No— your absence of faith does not deter me,” you say, pointing an accusing finger at jon. he bites back his smile at how cute you look in your retaliation. “Sam’s going to do it, I know this.”

jon takes the bait, setting down his scrub brush, leaning both hands against the table. “Alright, and I know he won’t.”

you scoff at his stubbornness. “He’ll approach her by the next moon’s turn.” you don’t give sam much time, the next moons turn being only a week away. you don’t give it any thought.

jon raises his brows. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then you win.” you say, lightly shrugging. “Aye, I would. What would I get in return?” he asks, unrelenting. you search for something worthy to offer, but come up short. he fills in the gaps for you.

“Whatever I want?”

you nod. you usually wouldn’t put such a promise in a man of the nights watches hands, most being criminals & rapists, but it’s not just anyone you’re trusting. it’s jon. he’s safe.

“You’re on, Snow.” you say, returning to your table-scrubbing without further word than that. jon ignores the butterflies in his stomach, and attempts to scrub them away on the hard wood of the worn-out oak table.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

over the next week, you’re starting to become faithless; it seems the gods have abandoned you.

you thought his frustration would boil over, giving him the confidence he needed to confess, but yet again, samwell tarly has exceeded expectations in the department of pining.

jon silently relishes in his oncoming victory, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so — prone to smiling. whenever he sees you, he bites the inside of his cheek (or his tongue), in every effort to conceal the massive grin that threatens to erupt on his face. this only makes you grumble, and edds told you if you don’t stop rolling your eyes so much they’ll get stuck like that.

sam has peeled away from everything entirely, it seems. keeping his head down, only speaking when spoken to, always looking like he has something on his mind. he’s like this with everyone, jon, gilly, and you included. the nights watch is feeling the absence of their usual beam of light, and edds proclaimed if you, jon, and gilly aren’t being spoken to, then they all should keep an eye out for wildlings flying over the wall until further notice.

now, when you and jon see each other, it’s more silent than ever. you know if he opens his mouth it’ll be boasting proclamations of onset victory, and you can’t say if that happens you won’t put your hands on him. he seems to know this too, smart enough to keep to himself and not press your buttons. somehow this only frustrates you more. maybe if jon was more insufferable, you’d have a harder time loving him.

even with your own romantic dilemma, the main thing on your mind is sam, and the stupid bet you shouldn’t have made in the first place. you’ve tried leaving sam alone, forgetting about it entirely, praying, and even giving him a nudge in the right direction. making sure jon wasn’t near, then asking about his day, and after, about gilly — but iif you ask about gilly, you get the same record on repeat.

“What? Oh, Gilly, yeah… yeah she’s great. Working with Maester Aemon ‘nd… she’s great, really.” he’d say, fiddling with his hands, gaze trapped on the floor (or, if gilly was in the vicinity, on her).

your gaze would soften, but even you aren’t enough this time. “Sam, look, maybe you should—“

“Oh— I’ve got to go, I’m late for my meeting with Jon. Bye.. bye then!” he’d call, walking quickly in the other direction (not toward jon’s chambers), and as he walks away, you could almost see victory leaving with him.

by the end of the week, you and sam are in the same boat emotionally. jon thinks if you scrub the tables any harder you’ll break the wood, and this time, he doesn’t refrain from mentioning it.

“Careful.”

he means it in (half) good faith, but you glare at him all the same. and you see the shift in his tongue that means he’s biting down on it to stop his smile from appearing. you roll your eyes, and the image of edds face appears in your head as you do so.

you scrub angrily for the next few minutes, until you can’t bear it anymore.

“I can’t believe it. I actually can’t believe it, Jon.”

he glances up at you, a raise of his brows appearing as he speaks. “Who’s faithless now?”

“Don’t. You and I both know he was near to burst a week ago.” you say, crossing your arms and looking out the same window you did the night a bet was made.

jon makes a noise of disagreement, but (intelligently) doesn’t press any further.

“I just don’t get it. How can — how can you be so,” you look for the right wording, emotion punctuating your sentences. “so in love with someone without telling them?”

jon momentarily stops scrubbing, entire body pausing at your words. luckily for him, you’re too caught up with sam to notice. jon gets it.

“He doesn’t want to ruin what they have.” he says, and if you weren’t so frustrated, you’d pick up on the tone that says he isn’t just talking about sam and gilly. you come to sit at the bench of the table hes working on, and jon notices the color of your eyes bathed in the light exuding from the window.

“Right, but—“ you sigh, trying to string your thoughts together. “but they could have more. Isn’t it worth the risk, than to spend your time only being that? Always dancing on the edge of more?”

the sincerity jon can see in your eyes only makes his heart race, but it also makes him reflect on your relationship. jon’s in love with you, that much is easy to pinpoint, but do you love him? would you allow his tainted hands to sully you, if given the opportunity? jon’s gaze flickers to your lips, and returns back to your eyes.

though quick, in the silence, you notice it. you take pity, leaning back to allow jon his personal space (that you hadn’t even registered invading) back. he only wishes you’d return, even closer this time.

but he doesn’t say that. among all the things unspoken…

“Sam doesn’t think it worth the risk.” he decides, and he can see the gears turning in your head. he returns to light scrubbing to give you time to string your thoughts together. you don’t like speaking without correlation (the first thing jon learned about you).

a few seconds pass before you speak, and your voice is quieter than its usual volume. “Do you think it worth the risk?”

jon’s silence only prompts you to make the question clearer. “If you had the opportunity, would you risk it?”

would he? would he speak your name, of the devotion he harbors for you? he could take the risk, but what’s the rush? jon’s never considered his time with you limited. he shrugs.

“It depends,” he says. “On the person.. how long I have. Some are content where they stand.”

you nod, but he can tell that’s not the answer you were looking for. “I think so,” he adds as an afterthought. you seem content with it, and brush his knuckles in passing as you return to your own table. it makes his heart jump.

jon would think it accidental if he didn’t know you so well.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

you think you could smell jon’s amusement from anywhere you stand in castle black.

the moon turns tonight, and sam seems no closer now than he was a week ago. the jest is on you for putting faith in the confidence of cowards.

you’re perfectly content to avoid jon for the entirety of the day, and even worse, he seems content to let you. you meet each others eyes in passing, and while your gaze is defeated, his is only cloaked with half-amused sympathy (accompanied by that smile he adorns only when he’s with you). if you looked closer, you don’t doubt you could find some arrogance in there, but you’re too busy being a sore loser to try. it doesn’t occur to you that jon hates not seeing you achieve, even if it’s only a bet. one that’s in his favor.

the nights watch had decided to celebrate the moons turning with drinks after supper tonight. usually, the moon isn’t any topic worthy of celebration, but things have been unusually quiet in castle black lately. as far as white walkers and wildlings go, that is. why not have a little fun?

the mess hall is warm, bustling with the combined voices of black brothers. bellies are full, and the ale in everyone’s cup allows for a lighthearted atmosphere. you’ve decided to put the bet on a back burner, a simmering problem to deal with tomorrow. you’re warm & fuzzy, looser with your tongue than usual; although you can’t help wincing whenever someone drops food or creates a new stain on the tables.

you forego avoiding jon, and not just because you naturally gravitate toward him when drinking ale. he’s more than eager to keep you by his side, not fully trusting anyone in the room with you incapacitated (maybe edd on blood moons).

much to your dismay, there’s been no sign of samwell tarly. he had vacated the premises after everyone was done supping, and before the ale had been poured. everyone noticed; of course they did. sam was alike to the glue that held much together. sure, he was cowardly, and occasionally frustrating, but sam was the voice of reason. and everyone was starting to feel the weight of his absence.

bet or not, you think after tonight you might have to seriously intervene in your friends love life. you hate to see him like this, dejected and hopeless…. maybe you have a better chance of guiding gilly than sam. in the midst of your thoughts, you glance out the window noticing the sun setting. and with it, goes any hope you had at victory.

jon’s gaze follows yours, and recognizes your defeat with you. but still, ever the gentleman, he doesn’t mention it; only allowing a small upward tug to play on his lips. you return it, momentarily leaning into jon in a silent acknowledgment, before getting roped into grenns white-walker conspiracy theory.

the hours pass easily, greatly enjoying the boisterous atmosphere, the ale making you warm & floaty. you find it harder to keep your eyes off jon as the night goes on, and you almost internally chide yourself for it; until you recognize that every time you’ve stolen a glance at jon, he’s already been looking at you.

eventually, it gets late, and you want to turn in. the only reason jon’s been here so long is you anyways, so when he says his goodbyes along with you, silently following you out, you don’t pay it any mind. your tipsy brain clouds your judgement, and you wrap a hand around his bicep, the muscle underneath making you feel fuzzy.

jon only glances down to where you meet, afraid if he looks too long, you’ll get shy and pull away. and he really, really doesn’t want you to pull away.

you walk in silence until a thought occurs to you. you decide to push aside your pride and propriety, letting instead curiosity steer your tongue.

“So, Snow,” you begin, and he hums, propping you to go on. “Since you’ve won, what’ll it be?”

it seems that the ale isn’t just affecting you, because the question makes jon smile almost too easily. you want to see more of it, so you continue.

“A handshake… the clothes off my back… my soul…” you remark, and it gets you just want you wanted — jon shakes his head, smile not leaving his face.

“Not here,” he says, and he steers you both in the direction of the wall. what jon could possibly want that would need the privacy of the wall, you’re unsure (no you aren’t).

the walk there is quiet, the only sound being the wind flapping your coats. it only makes you more aware of the warmth emanating from jon, and you both pretend you don’t lean into each other. you only remove your hand from him as you approach the box, and he puts a hand on the small of your back to usher you in front of him. if jon would do so without the added ale is a thing that you question for only a moment, as the creaking of the box signals it’s begun ascent.

now you really are curious as to what jon could want. he’s an honorable man… does he need a secret kept? a new cloak? or does he just wish for a conversation in the solaced privacy of the wall?

the ride up feels shorter than usual, but you’re not sure what to blame it on. it’s a strange feeling, your nerves on fire, yet the ale douses it to a low buzz. you partially blame jon, always forgetting yourself when he’s present. how you ever hope to confront your feelings is beyond you.

when you step out, jon offers his arm this time, and you gladly accept it. perhaps you’re not the only one who finds comfort in the action.

you begin your walk, and based on the route, you think he’s taking you both to your favorite place. a quiet indent in the wall, close enough to not be a far walk, but long enough to get away from prying eyes and listening ears. it has a small wall of ice that acts as a (sort of) guard-rail, coming to the waist — but the rest is left open, the expanse of woods beyond the wall available to be gazed upon.

the quiet is comfortable, as it always is with jon. you have much on the tip of your tongue, but give him the courtesy of speaking first.

it’s not long before you’re approaching your little sanctuary; scattered black brothers are guarding the expanse of the wall behind you, and in front of you, but none linger around this area. the thought remains in the back of your mind as you make the turn, walking into the indent, the view beyond it making your breath hitch.

you remove your hand from jon’s arm, instead splaying it across the waist-high-iced-guard-rail. it’s freezing, even under your gloved hand, yet it’s a welcome respite from the way jon sets your nerves alight, turning your skin to fire. patience is hard, yet you wait for him to speak.

“What you said,” he begins. “about taking the risk,”

you turn to look at him, but this time, he doesn’t meet your eyes. his tongue darts out to wet his lip, the way it does when he’s nervous. what could jon have to be nervous about?

“It made me think…”

whatever jon was going to say, you’re not sure you’ll ever know, because rapidly approaching footsteps have the words dying on his tongue — looking behind you both. who is running down the wall at this hour? and why?

a figure appears, out of breath and panting. sam.

“I looked for you! In the— in the mess hall, but— Grenn and Edd said you weren’t there, said you’d left,” you and jon must look as confused as you are, since when did sam run?

a grin erupts on sam’s face as he gets past his introduction. “I did it! I really did it!”

“Did what?” jon prompts, but you think he already knows.

“Gilly!” sam says, and you can feel your brows instantly un-crease themselves. “Well, I— you know, I was nervous. Didn’t want to ruin what we had or, or what she thought of me but.. I just sort of— went up to her and did it! I can’t believe she said yes…” he says, wistfully looking to the sky with a smile on his face, like he can’t believe the gods allowed it to happen, either. you wore one of your own, bathing in jon’s defeat.

sam looks at you both for a minute, then at jon, and the smile he’s wearing dies down as he realizes he’s interrupted. “Oh— oh, sorry… I’ll go now, I just—“ reality seems to hit him again, as another smile erupts on his face.

“I did it!” he says, then spins on his heel, leaving you both atop the wall.

a few moments pass, before you turn to look at jon. you both have a look of disbelief, yours mixed with a smile — and strangely enough, even in defeat, so is his.

“I’m thinking your rations for a month, the cloak you’re wearing...” you say, and jon huffs out a laugh (they come easier around you)

“What Sam did, is called blindsiding—“

“Hm,” you say, interrupting the end of his sentence. “It looks like defeat, instead. What were you going to demand, again?”

you’re only teasing, but you accidentally hit a soft spot. you see the way his smile falters, seriousness beginning its return to his face. it makes your own smile disappear.

“I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to…” you say, but once you see the expression on his face, something clicks. “What were you going to ask for, Jon?”

it seems like you’ve asked him to throw himself off the wall. he shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does.”

he begins to turn away from you, but your hand flies to his arm, halting him. he sighs in frustration. you try to catch his gaze, but he makes effort not to look at you.

“I won, and that’s what I ask.” you say, “For you to tell me what you wanted.”

you can see his internal turmoil, but that only makes you want to shrink away. what plagues jon so badly he dares not to speak it aloud? not speak of it to you?

you can tell he doesn’t want to say it, but a bet is a bet.

“You.”

your brows scrunch involuntarily. “Me?”

“I wanted to kiss you.” he says, his gaze flickering momentarily to your lips. “Want.”

your lips part in shock. not that he wants to kiss you (you’ve known. you want to kiss him) but that you’ve been able to coax him to say as much.

your gaze flicks to his lips once, twice, and you step closer — body almost flush with his. at the same time you reach up, jon leans down, and you connect your lips with his. they’re soft, warm; everything you thought they’d be when your thoughts would drift to him.

the kiss is sweet, tentative. exploring unknown territory, but also wanting — needing. you feel jon’s hand come to your waist, pulling you even closer (if possible), your body now flush against his.

eventually, the need to breathe takes over, and you both (reluctantly) pull apart. his cheeks are flushed, and you have an idea that it’s not from the cold this time. his pupils are blown, want pooling in them; but, also, something else swims in the midst. confusion.

“But— I lost,” he says, looking to you for an answer. you pretend to take mild offense, a playful roll of your eyes accompanying your words.

“You know, Jon, when someone gets kissed, they usually don’t consider it a loss.”

it seems to be the right answer, a smile tugging its way back up his lips. his response is him leaning down to kiss you again.

#game of thrones #jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow prompt #jon snow x you #hashtag #need that #idk why this just came to me #also i think this is (accidentally but not unwelcome) gn!reader #so lmk in the comments below if there’s anything gender implying pls and thank you #gn!reader

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gotta-winwin · 1 month ago

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Hi can you do for the svt 24 hour one with woozi at 6:45 waking up together and getting ready for the day

hihi! killing my writing slump with our very last instalment of 24hrs with svt! thank you to everyone who requested - and thank you, my love, for requesting this! 6:45 was already taken, so i hope you don't mind that i moved it slightly to 7am :)

to everyone who sent a req in and didn't get anything, the window for submissions closed in december. but fear not- there will be plenty other chances for submission events like this one!

mornings with woozi is under the cut :)

7:00am

Early mornings with Woozi are quiet, as you are blissfully pulled away from sleep and into your lover’s arms. He holds you like his favourite instrument, hands carefully placed against your waist, your head bobbing up and down on his chest in tune with his breathing.

The line between his eyebrows disappears when Woozi sleeps, his usual concentrated and sometimes stressed out expression nonexistent, replaced by the ethereal calmness both you and sleep granted him.

Woozi was a homebody. His best days were those spent inside, whatever anime he was most obsessed with playing on the TV and you cuddled between his arms. He was a man of simple pleasures, and nothing could easily please him as waking up to your face could.

“G’morning.” He’d grunt out, blinking as his eyes met your already wide ones. He liked how you looked at him first thing in the morning, hair adorably unkempt and eyes wide despite the heaviness of sleep still weighing on you.

He liked how you smiled at him, equally thrilled at the idea of waking up to each other everyday.

Getting ready was a slow ordeal, as he watched you move about the room, occasionally getting his opinion on outfit and makeup choice. He liked watching you through your vanity mirror as you got ready, eyes solely concentrated on yourself, completely unaware of how smitten he looked on the bed behind you.

He gets up only to make you a cup of coffee, handing it to you with sleep still in his eyes. He wordlessly clinks his own mug against yours, the sound signaling his nonverbal wish for you: today is going to be a good day.

You would leave for work, not before pressing a quick kiss on Woozi’s lips, promising to be back with tales from the office to entertain your secretly drama-hungry lover. Quick the kiss might be, it lingered with thoughtful affection and unspoken love, satiating his hunger better than any breakfast could.

Mornings with Woozi ended quickly, although you knew he’d be waiting for you back at home, and that you would be on his mind the entire time you were apart.

#seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen event #svt fic #svt scenarios #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #gottawinwin's 24hrs with svt

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xxsp3llb0undxx · 7 months ago

Text

A Day To Remember

Jasper Hale x Fem!Reader [989+ Words]

Summary: Jasper takes his human mate back to his home state, Texas, for some time away from their families.

Disclaimer: Please do not repost my work to other sites or claim as your own, this is purely written from my imagination and from the help of the franchise. All rights of the main storyline goes to the writers and producers of Twilight.

WARNINGS: FLUFF // JASPER BEING A GENTLEMAN // USE OF Y/N // UNEDITED

Jasper hadn't been back to Texas in almost 200 years, not after everything that had happened. Not after what he had done. But it seemed he couldn't deny the request of his mate when she asked to see the state where he grew up, where he became the man she valued and loved. So he did just that.

Jasper had planned everything secretly, with the help of his sister Alice of course. Packing up the car with all the essential things Y/n might need before getting in the car and driving all the way across town to pick her up.

Driving cross-country wasn't the best thing in the world but Jasper was thankful he didn't need to sleep or eat, otherwise the journey would've taken longer. As Y/n slept peacefully in the passenger seat, Jasper held her hand ever so delicately, tracing soft patterns into her knuckles. To say he loved her would be an understatement, he was infatuated with her. The way her lips parted ever so slightly as she breathed, how her eyes would flutter every so often, the soft rosy pink tint across her cheeks. Jasper felt things for her on a whole other level, it was like he was consumed by her.

By the time they made it to the hotel Alice had booked for the pair, it was midday. The sun hiding away behind thick, grey clouds as rain pitter pattered against the windshield. Jasper gently shook Y/n, careful not to startle her. She opened her eyes, blinking a few times until her vision was no longer blurry. Looking up at Jasper, a small smile tugged at her lips almost instantly. She leaned over the centre console, pecking the blonde vampires lips ever so softly. Jasper let out a quiet hum of content, his hand trailing along the underside of her jaw as he pulled her closer, savouring the taste and feel of her lips before pulling away.

Jasper, being the gentleman he is, got out the car first, holding up his forefinger to Y/n as if telling her to stay there as he rounded the car and opened her door, holding out his hand for her to take. Y/n slipped her hand into Jasper's, slowly getting out the passenger side of the car as Jasper shut the door behind her. His arm wrapping around her waist as he lead her inside the hotel lobby. As they got their room situated, the bellhop took their luggage to bring it up for them, though Jasper insisted he could do it.

The following day, Jasper and Y/n headed out for a little sightseeing trip around Texas, starting in Houston. Jasper took Y/n out for breakfast, telling her all the stories about when he was a young lad running around this specific part of the city. After breakfast, they had gotten back into the car, driving all the way down to Orange County. Y/n was unbeknownst to anything Jasper had planned, the young girl just going along with everything he said or did.

After an hour or so, the car stopped outside Shangri La. A botanical garden and nature centre. The weather hadn't cleared up, still the same gloomy sky as yesterday but Y/n didn't mind, it meant less people being around and Jasper wouldn't get found out for being a vampire.

The pair walked throughout the gardens hand in hand, Y/n pointing out the array of flowers growing all around. Jasper just smiled, watching her ramble on about her favourite flowers with a smitten look on his face. God he loved her, how did he get so lucky. The blonde vampire had lead his mate to a more secluded area, the pond of the blue moon, sitting down on the wooden platform as they looked out at the deep blue water around them.

"It's beautiful.." Y/n breathed out, her voice soft as she spoke. Jasper hummed in return, his topaz eyes glued to her face. "It sure is." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. Jasper gently cupped the side of her face, turning it so she could look at him. His thumb rubbing small circles into the skin of her cheek.

"I want to ask you something, something I've been dying to ask you from the moment I met you.." Y/n looked at Jasper in confusion, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side before she nodded her head, urging her mate to speak. Jasper let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, not like he had lungs that even worked, before he grabbed her hand and held it lightly in his own.

"I have loved you from the moment we met, I knew you were the one I wanted from the very first time I felt every ounce of your emotions swarm my head like a plague. You accepted every part of me, being a vampire, playing a part in a war that took thousands of lives.. you loved me even when I didn't believe I could be loved. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, whether you want to grow old or you would prefer to go through the change, I want to be there for it all. What I'm trying to say is.. will you marry me?"

Silence. Pure silence. Before Y/n threw her arms around Jasper's shoulders as she squealed in happiness. He could feel the joy radiating off her. The raw, unfiltered euphoria coursing through her like a wildfire. Her soft rants of "yes, one thousand times yes" falling from her lips as she hugged the vampire closer, clinging to him like a lifeline. Never in a hundred years has Jasper felt this content, this at peace within himself and it was all down to the girl wrapped tightly within his arms, like armour protecting her from anything and everything.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #jasper hale #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x y/n

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