#he’s smitten and she’s over the moon

[alwayshinny]

Hinny - 💞 for @potterheadlovespotter who was looking for something along the lines of this post.

Hermione didn't know what she was talking about. Exploring every broom cupboard with her boyfriend was absolutely vital to preparing her for the OWLS.

[schmweed]

Succession | S04E06

[jils-things]

WWHEHEHEHEH RHYS MAI HUNNI BRBRBRBRBRBRB!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🤍🩶🖤🖤🩶🤍 I WUB MAI HUNNI BBRBRR 😋😋😋😋

[tititilani]

I can't stop thinking about if Simon had taken Edwin's offer

Like Charles finds Edwin in the hallway as ever but this time there's another boy there too, cowering against the wall next to him. Maybe the dollhead spider doesn't care about Simon, too busy focusing on its favorite target, so Charles is left standing in the hallway with Simon when Edwin is taken.

They get out of hell, but Edwin doesn't confess due to Simon hovering behind his elbow. He doesn't want to confess his emotions in front of his killer, who he probably hasn't even properly figured out how he's feeling towards yet.

The Night Nurse is pissed they came out with an extra soul but Niko's same loophole still applies and Simon stays.

"This is Simon," Edwin says when it's all said and done, finally introducing the boy that's been hiding behind him since the door closed. "He was a...classmate of mine."

"He saved me," Simon says, looking up at Edwin moony-eyed and Charles knows that look and something settles heavy in his stomach.

"Glad to have ya, mate," he tells him even though the words taste sour. This other boy knew Edwin when he was alive, the thought is slightly terrifying to him.

Simon settles in fine with the agency even if the agency feels a little crowded now with five people in it but he continues to moon over Edwin and Edwin just...never tells anyone how they actually knew each other. He reasons it just doesn't matter, that he can't find the right time, whatever.

Charles never really warms up to him, though he tries to hide it, but he sees the looks Simon gives Edwin, a soppy smitten look that is somehow worse than anything Monty or the Cat King ever tried with Edwin because of all of them, Simon arguably knows the most about like Edwardian courting. That, like Edwin, Simon has also survived hell. Charles hates the idea that someone could potentially understand Edwin more than he does.

He hates it so much that nothing further happens between him and Crystal because the idea of Edwin being left alone with Simon bothers him so much. He sees Simon adjusting Edwin's collar one (1) time and it makes him feel sick.

And then there's the fortune-teller.

They only go to her sometimes for cases because she never fails to freak Charles out but her prophecies tend to be accurate like 60% of the time which is pretty good for a fortune teller. She looks at the two of them at the end, because it is just the two of them for once, and then looks just at Edwin.

"How kind you are," she says, the words a compliment but the tone snide. "To house your killer. Pray tell it doesn't come back to you."

"What." Charles says. "The fuck."

Charles is furious, of course, and it takes Edwin a long time to talk him out of smashing Simon's face in with the new cricket bat.

"He's like me," he insists in that quiet but firm voice. Charles wants to scream that Simon is nothing like Edwin - that he doesn't have a fraction of Edwin's kindness or pissiness, that his blue eyes are not nearly as beautiful as Edwin's green - but before he can even open his mouth, Edwin continues. "He...He likes boys, Charles. He likes me."

Oh. Oh.

Charles stares at Edwin who is looking back at him, trying and failing to hide the fact he's terrified, and Charles doesn't give one shit that Edwin likes boys because he's his best mate forever. He's still pissed that Simon is apparently staying but he has to hug Edwin at that. "I'm still pissed you didn't tell me about him," is all he says, swallowing back the other words he wants to say.

Charles grows even more paranoid about Simon being around, who has to get used to the fact that Charles takes to swinging his cricket bat ominously every time he comes within ten feet of Edwin. He finds out that adjusting clothing was an Edwardian courting thing and wants to break something. The very idea the very person who killed his best mate is now trying to put the moves on said best mate pisses him off.

It also makes him think of numerous times Edwin had readjusted his collar or jacket in the past and it makes his non-existent stomach flip.

Eventually, Simon decides he's ready to move on to his after-life and Charles keeps his hands from fisting when he looks at Edwin with that same soppy look. He knows Edwin has forgiven Simon by now but Charles has always been better at holding a grudge and he knows what is going to come out of Simon's mouth before he even asks. He knows that if Edwin says yes, he won't stop him.

Charles also knows that if Edwin does, there is no way he is going to find any kind of his own afterlife.

"You could come with me," Simon says hopefully and the moment after is the longest in Charles' life.

"Thank you, Simon," Edwin says kindly and Charles has to keep himself from crying. "But I have no interest in going anywhere without Charles."

He steps back - away from Simon and back towards Charles. Ears suspiciously pink, Edwin links their hands and they watch as Simon follows the Night Nurse.

[prythianpages]

I Put A Spell On You | Acotar x Witch Reader

━━━━━━•───⋅☽𖤐☾⋅───•━━━━━

[season of the witch masterlist]

summary: You, a witch, perform a ritual over your mate.

warnings: witchy rituals, Az being smitten with Green Witch, suggestiveness for Cas's bc he's horny for Love Witch, and a bit of Eris being soft for his Chaos witch.

a/n: Happy Summerween! This is inspired by the meme "hot witch wife and me doing whatever the hell she wants" that came from the gif above. Only Azriel, Cassian and Eris are included in this. Idek if these count as drabbles since each one is roughly a little longer than 1K but oh well lol.

moon divider by @tsunami-of-tears <3

━━━━━━•───⋅☽𖤐☾⋅───•━━━━━

Azriel x Green Witch

Candles were lit and placed carefully around the room, casting a warm glow that danced with your every movement. You knelt in the center, drawing a chalk circle with meticulous care. Your eyebrows knitted together, focus unwavering.

A sight that had Azriel’s gaze softening as he watched you from where he stood. His shadows flitted around him, singing in content. Precious, they whispered. Yours. The corner of his lips tugged up into a faint smile. Ours. His shadows were just as smitten with you as him.

"Azriel," you called softly as you shifted into a kneeling position.

He stepped forward, shadows shuddering under the force of your magic as he crossed the chalk circle. Kneeling before you, his gaze flickered to the tray between you, filled with a carefully arranged assortment of herbs, shimmering crystals, and freshly cut dandelions. Through the bond, he could feel your anticipation and nervousness humming like a vibrant current. He sent a soothing wave of calm your way, reveling in the way your muscles seemed to relax.

Lighting the candle on the tray with your magic, you finally look up and meet Azriel’s gaze. A faint blush colors your cheeks at what you find in those hazel eyes. "Why are you staring at me like that?" 

“Because you’ve bewitched me.”

You lifted a brow. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Oh, but you have.” He grinned, hazel eyes sparkling. “Just being you is enough.”

“Don’t distract me,” you admonished, though your voice lacked firmness, and the blush on your face deepened. “I could be casting a hex on you for all you know… what if I were cursing you into a toad?”

“I’d croak only for you.”

“And if I jinxed you with a body-bind curse that would immobilize you?”

Azriel tilted his head, his eyes boring into yours with a challenge. “So that I’d never leave your side…Are you sure that’s a curse?”

You stared back at Azriel, eyes narrowing in skepticism. But he doesn’t waver. You’re certain he doesn’t even blink, and the sincerity radiating from him sends a wave of warmth through your heart. He’d let you do anything to him.

“You’re insufferable,” you finally replied, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“And you’re adorable,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch sending delightful shivers down your spine. 

Before his hand could fall back to his side, you reached out for it and laced your fingers through his, smile widening when one of his shadows wedges itself through the cracks.  “Will you let me focus now?”

Azriel gives your hand a squeeze, silently commanding the shadow between your fingers to return to him. With a wave of your other hand, your spellbook came flying to you from your desk in the corner. In a whirl of green, the pages began to turn, your eyes darkening as they searched for the spell in mind.

“What is this spell for anyway?” Azriel couldn’t help but ask, realizing he had no clue as to what this ritual of yours entailed. When he told you he was going on a long mission–a full week–and you had asked if you could try something, he had simply said yes.

Darkness fully consumed your eyes, the turning pages coming to a stop. He doesn’t flinch when your dark eyes look up to his. To him, they were just another beautiful part of you that he loved.  “It’s a small binding spell for protection. It’s like a stepping stone for the spell I want to cast after our mating ceremony.”

“And no, I won’t tell you what that one is because it’s a surprise.” You added after sensing the next question ready to roll off Azriel’s tongue.

Azriel let out a small huff. He doesn’t like surprises but you’re stubborn and unwavering. At the slight pout of his face, you bring his hand to your mouth and brushed your lips against his fingers. The subtle twitch of his right wing betrayed him, making you smile. 

“Now, sit back on your heels and relax.” You instructed, taking his other hand in yours so both hands held his.

Azriel’s wings curled in slightly, the dark talons lightly grazing the floor. His shadows quieted, resting against his neck and lap. You gave both of his hands a tender squeeze before you began to murmur a chant, your voice soothing and melodic. The flames surrounding you both danced higher, responding to your magic.

Your magic enveloped you both, swirling along the line of your circle and casting a shimmering green glow upon the room. The magic from Azriel’s cobalt blue siphons sang in response, fluttering toward your emerald light and intertwining with it, just like your fingers are with his.

The combined force of your magic sent a cool gust of air your way, making your hair sway gently. The dandelions between you both seemed to awaken with a life of their own, the pappus carrying their seeds stirring. A tender flutter of warmth rose from Azriel’s stomach as the dandelions began to rise, his mind flashing back to that day in the field of dandelions when your laughter had filled the air.

The feathery plumes floated gracefully in the air between you both, carrying promises in the wind of your magic.They wrapped around your intertwined hands, morphing into a golden thread in a burst of bright light. Azriel eyes filled with a mix of admiration and something deeper that made your heart race. It prompted you to close your eyes, not wanting to be distracted as you whispered the last words of the spell.

When you finished, the room fell into a serene silence. You opened your eyes, and Azriel watched as the darkness lifted from them, smiling softly as you were brought back to him.

Azriel rises first so that he can guide you to your feet. His hands don’t let go of yours. Though it’s time for him to leave for his mission, his shoulders feel light. As if a huge weight has been lifted off and he feels something he’s never felt before–an overwhelming sense of safety. Even his shadows seemed to give a sigh of relief.

Resting his forehead against yours, he takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut briefly. “I’ll come home to you as soon as I can. Crawl if I have to.”

“You won’t have to,” you promised, looking up at him. “You’ll come home to me unscathed and we’ll have our mating ceremony. Then, I’ll show you my surprise.”

His lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, the promise of your future together shimmering like the magic lingering in the air.

Cassian x Love Witch

Cassian’s head tilted back in pleasure, his large hands falling to your hips. Your lips found purchase against the newly exposed skin of his neck, slowly working your way up. He let out a deep groan when you grinded down against him, his hands kneading into you to press you further onto his growing bulge.

“Sweetheart–”

“Can I–” 

“Yes.”

You let out a breathless giggle, pulling back to look down at your mate, your heart shaped pupils making an appearance. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Well, let’s fix that?” He smirked at you, his hand sliding up your shirt.

“I want to try something.”

“Anything,” Cassian replied, eyes hooded with lust, before chasing after your lips.

You placed a finger against his lips, stopping them from meeting yours and when your lips curved into a devious grin, Cassian realized you were not talking about sex.

“I want to cast a spell on you, perform a ritual.”

His throat bobbed. “A ritual?”

“Mmm,” you replied, shifting in his lap as you cradled his face into your hands. “One I can only perform when the recipient is in love with me. It makes my love potions more potent. I’ve never tried it before but I’d like to. It’ll be fun…”

Cassian searched your face, eyes narrowing at you. “Fun in what sense?”

“Fun in the sense that it’ll make you feel real, real good,” you replied, hands falling to his chest slowly snaking their way upwards to run down his back and teasing at the area where his wings meet his skin. His wings shuddered, his arousal filling the air.

“Only if I get to make you feel real, real good after.” His hands guided you to circle your hips over his lap again, eliciting a soft moan out of you as you felt his desire for you.

“Deal.”

**

Cassian watched as you moved about your spell room with a grace and purpose that made his heart swell with pride. Since you had become a couple, your magic had been steadily returning to its former strength. It seemed that all you needed was to believe in yourself for your magic to flourish again.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d work your magic on him but it was the first time you’d perform a ritual on him. He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation as he laid down in the center of the circle you had drawn. His wings, arms and legs were splayed out in a relaxed yet expectant manner.

You sprinkled salt around the circle, its crystals catching the fae lights hanging above and adding a shimmering boundary. Then, with a dash of cinnamon, Cassian’s nose wrinkled, the warm, spicy scent teasing his senses. As you scattered rose petals with delicate precision, Cassian’s eyes followed you, tracking your every movement. 

“How does this work again?” 

You made your way towards Cassian, your feet stopping right at his head as you peered down at him. “It’s simple. You think about me and only me—”

“Easy.” He smirked up at you.

With a playful wink, you threw a handful of rose petals at him.  “—while I chant a spell. Your feelings will manifest into a tangible energy that I can then work with and stir into my potion.” You explained as you added drops of honey and more cinnamon to the brewing potion in the cauldron at the edge of the circle, the mixture bubbling softly.

“But what if I accidentally think of other things?” Cassian couldn’t help but ask. 

His thoughts did tend to drift away often, usually to not so innocent thoughts of you. However, there were the occasional random ones such as what he’d be having for dinner, the  result of the loud instrument he had gifted Nyx on his birthday or what would make Azriel tick next.

“Then, the cauldron will tip over angrily over your defiance to love me.”

He lifted his head slightly from the ground, relief bringing it back down when he saw you were joking.

“Just don’t think of anything negative. Otherwise, you’ll mess with the spell.” You reassured.

“Okay, got it! I can definitely do that. Think positive thoughts.” His eyebrows knitted together in concentration but then another thought came to mind and once again, he was lifting his head from the ground.

 "And why am I shirtless?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Oh that," you grinned back at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.  "That's for my own entertainment."

You began the ritual by lighting candles placed at each cardinal point of the circle. You then took a small, ornate vial from a nearby table, filled with a shimmering liquid—the essence of moonlight collected during the last full moon. You carefully poured a few drops into the cauldron, causing the potion to glow.

As you started chanting the spell, the energy in the room seemed to shift and intensify. Cassian closed his eyes, focusing on his love for you, letting the emotion swell within him. You placed your hands gently on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. 

“Stay still.”

“Your hands are cold and it tickles.” Cassian breathed but did his best to not move.

The air around you crackled with energy like a steady, burning hearth. The pink thread of magic began to weave itself around Cassian, glowing brighter with each passing moment. The connection between you two was palpable, a current of love and magic flowing freely. You could feel his love transforming into a tangible force, ready to be harnessed for your potion.

As the final words of the spell left your lips, you gathered the energy with a sweeping motion of your hand, guiding it into the cauldron. The potion bubbled vigorously for a moment before settling into a shimmering, golden liquid, infused with the power of your love and Cassian’s devotion.

You looked down at Cassian, who opened his eyes and met your gaze. “There,” you said softly, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Cassian replied, his entire body humming with a pleasant warmth. He felt good, real good. Just as you had said. He reached up and gently pulled you down for a kiss, his lips warm and soft against yours. “You’re amazing.”

Then, he flipped you over, positioning you on the ground beneath him as he hovered above you. His gaze darkened, love and lust simmering in those hazel eyes. “Now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

Lost in the promise of pleasure, you failed to close the ritual and your brewing love potion bubbled, turning into something more sensual…

Eris x Chaos Witch

Eris entered the dimly lit chamber, the hair on the back of his neck rising at the sudden chill in the air. The sensation, once unsettling, now was a welcomed embrace, a whisper of the magic that thrived in these walls. He closed the door behind him.

It was only then that he allowed his shoulders to sag, burdened by the heavy yet long desired mantle of his new responsibilities as the High Lord of Autumn. As he begins to unbutton his coat, the soft hum of a melody reached his ears, a soothing sound that seemed to dance with the flickering shadows. Drawn towards the source, Eris walked into the bathroom, where the air was thick with the scent of enchanted herbs and essential oils.

In the center of the room, a large, claw-footed bathtub awaited, filled with steaming water. Floating atop were delicate petals of autumn blooms, interspersed with sprigs of calming lavender and rosemary. You stood beside the tub, your back turned towards him, but he could feel your awareness of his presence through the bond that tightened in his chest.

Eris leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to fully appreciate the scene before him. The tightening in his chest blossomed into a pool of warmth, the sight of you bringing him a sense of peace that always left him wondering if this was all a dream. Another tug through the bond reminds him that it’s not. 

You wore a flowing gown of deep burgundy, reminiscent of the Autumn Court’s forests, and your hair cascaded around your shoulders. The humming ceased, and with a smile in your voice, you finally greeted him.

“My High Lord.”

A faint smirk tugged at Eris’s lips as he crossed his arms. "What is all of this?"

You turned around to face him, your eyes glowing a vivid crimson as the room darkened around you. "A little treat for you."

Eris raised an eyebrow, his own magic flickering the candles surrounding the bathtub to life. "A treat? For me?"

"Mmm. That’s what I said.”

Your eyes softened back to their natural hue. “Your energy has been all over the place these past couple of weeks. I thought a ritual might help ease your burden." You gestured to the enticing bath. "To relax you a little."

Eris blinked, momentarily taken aback by the gesture. His eyes roamed over the various jars and elixirs lining one of the counters, each one glimmering with an otherworldly light. His gaze returned to you, captivated by the grace with which you moved towards the array. You paused, studying the selection with a discerning eye before picking up a dark vial, its contents swirling with a strange mist.

You approached the bathtub with the chosen elixir, the air tingling with anticipation. You uncorked the bottle, releasing the trapped mist with a soft pop. You brought the open bottle to your nose, inhaling deeply and closing your eyes as if savoring a fine wine. “Frog’s breath,” you said, the corners of your lips twitching at the slight grimace on Eris’s face. “It’s surprisingly refreshing. It’s the toad’s breath you have to watch out for.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to go sniffing the wrong amphibian,” Eris replied, his tone laced with dry sarcasm.

You shot him a wry look before turning your attention back to the bath. With a flick of your wrist, you directed the mist towards the water, where it hovered above the surface like storm clouds, emitting a soft hiss as it settled.

Then, you reached into your dress, pulling out a long, vibrant feather from your chest, its colors shimmering in shades of reds, oranges, and gold. Your eyes glowed with a radiant red light as you admired the feather. “A phoenix feather. It brings forth rebirth and renewal—a rejuvenating energy, perfect for new beginnings.”

You beckoned Eris closer, and he complied, his amber eyes alight with curiosity and intrigue. He stood beside you, watching intently as you cast the feather into the bathtub as if it were your cauldron. There was a sudden flash of light, and the water began to shimmer with a faint golden hue.

“Looks like you’re preparing to make a stew out of me.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze, finding him already watching you. Your smile widened into a mischievous grin. “Oh, how you wound me, my love. I thought we were well past the murderous stage.”

Eris chuckled, reminiscing about the tumultuous beginnings of your relationship. How far the two of you had come since those early days. He never would have imagined that the witch with a love for chaos could capture his heart so completely. As you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge, he turned to face you.

“Will you let me take care of you?”

Eris gave you a nod, not trusting himself to speak. His throat felt tight with emotion.

You began to undo the remaining buttons on his coat, your fingers moving with a practiced grace. The fabric soon slid down his shoulders and fell to the floor. You continued with his vest and then, you reached his shirt, your nimble fingers brushing against his chest. 

As the garment fell away, you took a moment to appreciate the sight before you. Your hands traced the planes of his muscles, the touch light and reverent, invoking a delightful shudder that ran through him like a current. Your eyes find his as your hands begin to trail lower, teasing at the waistband of his pants.

Eris’s gaze is intense, his eyes brimming with an emotion so profound your fingers stop. He finishes undressing himself, knowing that if he allowed you, there was no way he’d have the strength to indulge in the bath before indulging in you.

His hands found purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a tender caress. “What next?” He breathes, his nose brushing against yours.

“Do you trust me?” You whisper and though he can only muster another nod, he sends his reassurance through the bond. “Then, get in.”

You extend your hand to him, and he takes it without hesitation, allowing you to guide him into the bath. Even as he settles into the tub, his back resting against the cool porcelain, his hand never leaves yours. The hot water envelops him, immediately easing the tension in his muscles, and he lets out a contented groan.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he brushes a kiss against your knuckles, his amber eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs.

“Guess we’ll never find out. You’re stuck with me now.” You reply, tugging at the golden threads that tether your souls together.

"A devastating tragedy," Eris feigns lament.

"A true catastrophe," you echo, matching his tone.

The two of you share a smile, the look in your eyes contrasting the words exchanged. Your hands move gently to remove the autumn diadem from his head, a symbol of his new rank and the burdens he bears. You place the diadem safely onto the counter and then, you’re returning to his side.  

You sit on the stool beside the bathtub, your fingers threading through his hair with a soothing touch. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he replies and though it’s not the first time you performed a ritual over him, it’s your first time performing one as his mate and for pleasure. His heart flutters in anticipation.

Leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Just sit back and relax.”

His breath hitched as he felt the coolness of your magic radiate from your fingertips and seep into his scalp. You began to hum an ancient tune, a melody resonating with the earth's cycles and the changing seasons. The chill of your magic transformed into a soothing, calming caress, gently breaking down the shields of his mind. He closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to wash over him—the warmth of the water, the scent of enchanted herbs, the soft glow of candles.

Eris, who had always been the one to shoulder burdens and stand strong, felt an unfamiliar sensation—a deep, unspoken care enveloping him. It relaxed him, allowing him to be vulnerable in a way he rarely permitted. And in the quiet embrace of the night, he realized how fortunate he was to have someone like you in his life.

Someone who understood the storms within him and embraced them, bringing harmony to his tumultuous world.

a/n: hope you enjoyed these! Eris's turned out a lot softer than I first imagined. I do intend to post more witchy HCs/drabbles but at the moment, I don't have an idea for one. But if you do, feel free to send it my way!

[witch au masterlist]

general witch tag list: @rcarbo1, @scorpioriesling, @ninthcircleofprythian

love witch tag list: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi

green witch tag list: @fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[pinkeos]

smitten!aventurine who would bring you coffee every morning, saying he made a mistake and bought two, when you point out that he said that last time, he'd say he's clumsy and always messes up his orders

smitten!aventurine buying something you've been eyeing for the last couple of days, saying he just felt like buying it for you

smitten!aventurine who's so proud and giddy when he sees you wearing the bracelet he bought for you

smitten!aventurine who can't help but smile widely when you laugh at something he's said, happy that he was the one who made you laugh

smitten!aventurine who would drop by your desk and listen to whatever gossip you had, pretending like he's really into it but in reality, he's more focused on your smile, the way your nose scrunches up adorably when you speak about someone you don't like

smitten!aventurine who is over the moon when you give him a gift, it doesn't matter if it's expensive or not, what matters is that it was from you and you thought about him

smitten!aventurine who would talk about you to others almost non stop, even when you're not with him, he would point out something he saw that reminded him of you and go “that'll look cute on them”, “i'm sure they'll like this”

smitten!aventurine who would tell topaz about you so much that she would just tell him to confess already, that he was a gambler, right? why not take the risk and tell you what he felt?

smitten!aventurine who, despite appearing smug and confident when it came to gambling, is actually scared of losing you if you actually didn't reciprocate his feelings

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Just a cute, fluffy fic from Wayne's pov

💞

"Hey Wayne, how do you know you're in love?" Eddie asks him as they eat dinner that night. Wayne nearly choked on the pasta he was eating but covered himself by gulping down some coffee.

Shit, he needs something a little stronger for this, like when he had the talk with Eddie a few years ago, that was awkward as hell for the both of them.

Fortunately for Wayne's heart, Eddie kept his love life a secret. There were a couple people that weren't serious, but that's as far as Wayne knew. Eddie asking about love, though? This was new.

"I haven't got time for falling in love, Uncle Wayne, I have way too much shit to worry about, and it's a bunch of bullshit anyway", were the words of Eddie just a year ago.

Wayne knew his nephew craved love but at the same time viewed it cynically, so whoever this person was must be special to change his views.

"Why'd you ask boy?" Eddie's cheeks turn pink and he shrugs, gulps down the warm coffee and almost scalds his tongue. "Ahh shit!" his eyes widen when there's a knock on the trailer door, and Wayne gets up to answer it; he knows who it is even before he answers.

You're standing on the step, a D&D book tucked under your arm, smiling at Wayne with just a little bit of shyness this time which was an improvement.

You hurry inside and tell Eddie you'll set the books up in his room.

For six months, you'd been visiting the new trailer (all paid for by the government, so no questions were asked about the old one), and it took a while for you to relax around him; now that you did, it was like your second home and Wayne was used to you being here.

You had been visiting on your own, but sometimes with Harrington and Dustin, Wayne doesn't know what went on during Spring Break, just that Eddie was injured during the earthquake, and you were there for him every step of the way.

His wounds had healed but left scars, and sometimes Eddie woke up screaming after horrendous nightmares, not when you were around, though. When you were around it helped Eddie, helped the both of you work towards healing.

The fact that both of you were obviously falling head over heels in love with each other, is something that Wayne has kept quiet about, waiting until Eddie approached him about it.

Today was the day.

Wayne smiles gruffly. "This about your girl?" he nods to you as you head into Eddie's room and Eddie's cheeks darken even more.

"Yeah, yeah it is. She's amazing, isn't she, Wayne?" he enthuses; I just wanted to ask. How do you know it's love? I mean shit, I uh look at her, and she feels like home, and I don't want to be with anyone else ever; I feel like I can be myself around her, and she'd never judge me; she makes me tongue-tied and my heart races and she's so distracting and I... I'm in love with her" he sighs content then looks up at Wayne panicked.

"Shit, I don't even know if she feels the same?" Wayne sighs, he adores his nephew, but the boy is completely oblivious at times.

"Son, she looks at you like you hung the moon so why don't you quit horsing around and ask her out" Eddie looks like all of his Christmases have come at once.

"You really think so?" He asks hopefully and his eyes light up when Wayne nods. "Maybe I will talk to her then" Wayne then proceeds to watch his nephew practically melt at the sight of you; that was something that so very rarely happened with Eddie, so he was completely smitten.

Here's hoping that he did pluck up the courage to talk to you.

❤️

It's late when Wayne comes home from work; the TV is on, so Eddie is still up, and Wayne would bet that you're here too.

Wayne sees the two of you giggling together, holding hands and exchanging kisses, there's a big soppy smile on Eddie's face and he only has eyes for you.

About damn time. Also, Hopper owes him a glass of his best scotch so he will make sure to collect that too.

💞

[nebulaafterdark]

Promise Me

Summary: Aegon is slowly dying of a heart condition, his final wish is for his childhood companion to find true love. Based off this & this request.

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

Aegon’s held a fascination for Y/N since he was a boy. Two sides of the same coin, the heir to the Iron Throne, the girl who would eventually ‘steal’ his birthright, by all accounts of his mother.

Mayhaps Alicent would have pushed harder for a marriage between them, had it not been for Aegon’s condition. He knew as well as any that he would not live to be an old man. He will die young, alone in his bed, with no one to mourn him, if he has any say in the matter.

When King Viserys calls for Rhaenyra, Daemon and their children to return from Dragonstone, Aegon is smitten at the sight of his childhood companion. Now a woman grown.

To his surprise, she and Aemond become fast friends. Then again, there is something to be said for their shared snippy demeanors; forever weighed down by the crown and their places beneath it. Attempting to prove themselves worthy at any cost, studying the histories and learning to speak fluently with two tongues.

Aegon cares for none of it. He is dying. Therefore he is not above following Y/N around like a lovesick hound, licking at her heels for the smallest bit of affection.

The princess does not appreciate this behavior at first, as she is busy with her duties. “What is it you want?” She scoffs.

“To be near you.” Aegon confesses, “nothing more.”

Y/N melts, her eyes softening to an extent, Aegon fears she might cry. “Be near me then.”

So he is, day and night. However inappropriate, they do not lie together, though they share a bed and all their secrets. They do not kiss or embrace, they simply exist, side by side for several moons.

“I want to be near you, always.” Y/N tells him, on the day he begins to withdraw.

“You cannot.” Aegon replies, gently. “You must prepare yourself to take a husband.”

“I should like you for a husband.”

Aegon sighs, breaking both their hearts as he whispers, “you are my friend. Mayhaps Aemond-”

The sting of Aegon’s rejection sends her from his rooms in tears, past the prying eyes of Queen Alicent.

“What have you done?” His mother wonders.

“She wished for my hand.”

“Did you not wish for hers?” Alicent shakes her head. Y/N is all Aegon wants.

“I will not condemn her to love a ghost.” Aegon explains, “she will go to Aemond, he will comfort her. He will be there for her, they might grow old together. He will help her lead. I cannot.”

“Oh, Aegon.” Alicent takes her eldest son into her arms. “If you’d only been honest with her. She would’ve wed you still.”

“I care for her happiness over my own.” He well and truly loves her.

————————————————————————

Y/N grows closer to Aemond in those weeks following Aegon’s rejection. Enough so that Aemond asks for her hand. On the day they wed, Y/N learns the horrible truth of Aegon’s condition. He has only hours left to live and he’s robbed her of so much time with him.

She makes for his chambers with her new husband in tow, wedding gown still adorning her.“You lied to me,” she wails, clutching at Aemond as though she wants to bring him closer and yet push him away. “How could you?”

“Because I love you, darling girl.” Aegon forces out the words, despite the pain of his ailing body. “This is what’s best for you. To live a long and happy life with someone who can. Not to make you a widow before you could’ve been a proper wife.”

Aemond whispers to his wife. “Go to him, sweetling.”

Y/N shakes her head, she loves Aemond. She will be a good and faithful wife.

Aemond sighs, “you are allowed to love him as well.”

Aegon opens his arms for her, allowing her head to rest on his chest. Stroking dark hair as she traces the line of his jaw with her finger.

“I would’ve been with you every second.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve cared for you, you imbecile.”

“You have cared for me, more than you will ever know.” Aegon murmurs.

“I do not know how I can survive this.” Y/N admits. “Who will I wake with in the middle of the night for sweets? Who will listen to me ramble on about-”

“I will,” Aemond hushes her.

“See,” Aegon looks to his brother. “You will be well loved.”

Aemond nods to his brother. “You needn’t worry about her, I will take care of our girl for you.”

“In this life I will be with Aemond. I will be happy and loved, just as you’ve asked of me.”

“Thank you, darling girl.” Aegon says, with a hint of a smile.

“And in every life after I will be yours.” Y/N tells him. “We will fall in love a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. We’ll be together and I will give you everything I could not this time.”

“Promise me.”

“I swear it.” Y/N assures him.

“As do I, brother.” Aemond takes his hand.

Aegon nods, feeling his tired heart begin to slow. “Thank you.” He is ready then, as he will ever be. “Mayhaps we might be one, like the Conquers.”

“I should like that very much, brother.” Aemond admits, “though you must always keep to your side of the bed.”

Aegon lets out a low chuckle. “Of course.”

“I love you, Aegon.” Y/N’s arms tighten around him, as if she holds him close enough, he will not go.

“As I love you.” He murmurs, with his dying breath, “hush now, Aemond will hold you.”

Her husband strokes her hair, sweetly. Knowing there is nothing more he can do. Aegon draws his last breath, Y/N very well knows it. Screaming loudly enough to alert the attending maesters.

“His grace is gone, my princess.” The grand maester confirms. “The silent sisters must prepare his body.”

“I do not wish to leave him.”

Aemond sighs, helping her to sit up and then to stand.

Y/N throws her arms around him. The pain is too great, no person could bear it alone. Her heart splits open, aching for someone she will never see again.

Aemond assures her, “we’re going to survive this, you and I. We’re going to live our lives to the fullest, do my brother proud.”

She nods, head cradled against his chest.

“Breathe,” he reminds her, “for now, just breathe.”

————————————————————————-

Y/N cries for him often, the most gut wrenching sobs Aemond has ever known and he holds her. Rocking her, soothing her as best he can, though there is not much to be done for a broken heart. He prays it will heal in time.

“I feel closest to my brother when I am with you.” Aemond whispers, pressing a kiss to the worried line between her brows. “As though you were two halves of a whole. I do not fault your longing for him.”

“I do love you, Aemond.” Y/N breathes, leaning up to catch his lips.

Aemond nods, “I love you too.”

The future Queen and King Consort bless the crown with four sons. The first of which they name Aegon.

[sweetbans29]

Teach Me: The Ask (i) - PB

Pairing: Paige Buecker x Reader

Next Part

Summary: You and Paige have been best friends for the last 6 years. You trust her completely. And it is because of that trust that you ask her a rather forward question. AKA - You ask Paige to teach you.

Warnings: best friend vulnerability, smitten Paige

Word Count: 3.5k

Teach Me Masterlist & Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Let's do this.

It's a Tuesday afternoon when a girl from your chem class asks you out. The two of you had been talking for the past few weeks and you had gotten a vibe - at least were hoping you were getting a vibe. Turns out, you were correct. She asked you to go out that Friday night.

You are literally over the moon. Truth be told, you were never one to date in high school or the beginning of college for that matter. The high school thing never really bugged you, but once you got to college and saw how much fun your friends were having hooking up, and sort of felt like you were missing out. It was always something that lingered in the back of your mind.

The thing that always scared you was your lack of knowledge. You had never done anything sexual. You hadn't even had your first real kiss yet, talk about embarrassing. I mean you kissed Jacob in middle school spin the bottle but never counted it because it was when you learned you didn't like boys.

But now that all that is changing. Not like you are going to treat your chem date as one of the girls your friends bring home, but you also don't want to be completely clueless as to what to do if it does ever go there.

The now excitement turns into fear as you run through all the possibilities of how your inexperience could end something that hasn't even begun. In your irrational thinking, there is only one person who you can think of that could help you.

Paige Bueckers and you met in high school. Your dad was the high school girls' basketball coach, where Paige played during regular season all four years. You knew everything your dad knew about the game and were often his assistant coach even though you were also still in school. Nobody understood why you didn't continue playing after middle school and you honestly never really talked about it. All they knew was that your knowledge of the game was something that could take you places.

You were instantly impressed by Paige when she made the varsity team her freshman year. Your dad led a pretty excellent program for high school which caused families to move to your hometown to have their daughters play for him. He was also on the board of a club program which usually kept him pretty busy and you as you were always with him.

Paige was a player your dad had been following since she started middle school and playing at the club. You also had an eye on her and were impressed by how refined her skills were. So when she came and tried out for the high school team, she was tough to place. You thought she should have been on JV for a year before stepping up into varsity but your dad argued a good case as to why she should be on varsity.

She was one of 4 girls in your dad's career who had come in as a freshman and made varsity.

Paige and you actually butted heads during both of your freshman years. You would try and coach her and she would dismiss you immediately - only listening to your dad. I mean you couldn't really blame her, you were the same age as her trying to tell her how to be better at a sport you didn't play anymore.

It wasn't until the end of the season your guy's freshman year that she saw the value in you. It was during the State Class Tournament when the team was down by 10 in the last quarter and you were coaching the offense while your dad was coaching on defense. It was then that she truly saw your knowledge of the game and how you weren't just pulling stuff out of your ass.

The team won the championship - your first time and your dad's like 12th. It was after that game, while everyone was celebrating that Paige came up to you and apologized for being so dismissive all season. You told her not to sweat it and the rest is history.

The two of you became best friends sophomore year of high school. It was easy as you were a part of the team but not a player and Paige appreciated having a friend who didn't share the court with her - I mean you shared the court with her but in a completely different capacity. The two of you worked extremely well together when it came to the game and found out that you also enjoyed each other's company outside of the gym. It was like you two had an unspoken language and were able to communicate without anyone hearing a word.

Your friendship only continued to grow over the years. You became Paige's right hand when it came to playing ball - you knew the way she played like the back of your hand. You could tell her where she had gone wrong or where she could improve before she even made a move. When she committed to UConn, you knew that would be where you go. Your dad approved and you knew you could continue learning the game.

During your freshman year, you and Paige dormed together. You continued to watch her game and help her become a better player at a college level. You also got super close with her team. You fit in perfectly. For most of the time, that wasn't an issue - hanging out with the girls and spending time with them. The only time it became an issue is when you see them more than Paige. You love your best friend, but there are times when she gets a little territorial.

The first time you noticed this was in high school, it only happened once or twice but it was bad.

There was this one time during club season (about a year into your friendship) when you had gone to a tournament with your dad. Paige was playing and she knew you were going to be there. Granted, before the tourney you had told her you were going to be scooping out players with your dad. She knew you weren't there to watch her play.

As the day progressed, so did her game. She kept missing shots and couldn't get out of her head. And to top it all off - you were nowhere in sight. Paige knew that whenever she was off, you would be there to tell her exactly how she could fix it, even if it was just a knock upside her head to tell her to stop overthinking.

When she would have a moment, her eyes would scan the crowd for you but she could never find you. The frustration started to build up in her that by the end of the tournament, she didn't make a beeline to you (not that she knew where you were) rather just went straight home.

When you and your dad were finished, you looked at Paige's location on Find My Friends and noticed she was already home. Your heart sank a little seeing as she did come find you but shake it off.

A day passes and you hear nothing from Paige. Typically you wake up to a minimum of 3-4 notifications from her, whether it be texts, missed calls, or some video or meme she has sent. The next morning there was nothing.

You try and give her a call but no answer.

It is about 10am now and still nothing from Paige. You see she is at home and decide to make your way there. When you get there her dad is out working in the garage and greets you. He lets you know Paige has been out back working on her shot all morning. YOu thank him and make your way out to your best friend.

When you walk out she is locked in on a shooting drill. You stand there and watch her - already seeing what you had seen yesterday. You weren't able to watch full games for your best friend but every chance you got, you would sneak over to see how she was doing. You knew she was off and how she could adjust but every time you had an opportunity to go talk to her, your dad needed you with him.

"You're pulling your shot - your elbow and wrist aren't aligned. You lose it a second before your release causing you to shift right." You say to the girl who keeps missing about half of her shots.

Paige wants so badly to look at you and say she needed you yesterday but she still boils with an unknown anger. She says nothing.

"Paige, what's going on?" You ask when she doesn't respond - you even used her first name, and you never used her first name. Still no response from your stubborn friend as she goes up for another shot - missing it. You have seen enough.

You walk up to her, take the ball, and throw it into the yard. If she wants to play this game, she needs to know that 2 can play.

"What the hell?" She yells, finally looking at you.

Her look says more than you imagined it would. At first, all you see is the anger that she has been holding for the past 24 hours. But as you both stand there just staring at one another, you begin to see the hurt that lies behind it maybe even a hint of jealousy. There is something else in her eye but you can't quite pinpoint that one yet.

Your eyes soften as you look at the blonde in front of you, waiting for her to take the lead. You are wholeheartedly expecting her to yell at you for something you still have no idea about. And you're ready to give it right back to her.

The yelling never comes as Paige finally breaks eye contact with you and looks down.

"You weren't there." Is all Paige says. She continues to look down and behind picking at one of the nails.

"What are you talking about B?" You ask, needing her to be more specific.

"I needed you and you weren't there," she says again. You wrack your brain for what she could possibly be talking about when it clicks. Even though you saw what her issue was yesterday - you never corrected her during the game.

"That's what this is about?" You ask, your heart breaking slightly from the sight of your best friend's vulnerability. You see a switch in her flip and know you are about to get feisty Paige.

"You were at the tournament for the entire day and didn't come over to watch me for a second! That single-handedly was one of my worst tournaments and couldn't figure out what was going wrong. The day just kept getting worse. I would scan the crowd for you and you were nowhere in sight, off at some other court watching some other girl that wasn't me." She whispered the last part to herself more than you.

You wait a second, processing what she is saying and waiting to see if there is going to be anything else. When nothing else comes, you speak.

"During game three, is when you started pulling your shot. It started when no.15 from the other team fouled you midshot and you fell to the ground. That is why you missed your first free throw. Your next game was even worse - that is when you started getting in your head. Your shooting percentage was down 20% and you couldn't shake it because you were fully in your head at that point. Game 5 was the worst of them all because you had just given up on yourself. Your shot was all over the place as you were trying to adjust every single one you took. I was there P, you just couldn't see me." You say with a matter-of-fact tone.

"And it is my job to watch other athletes! You know this! That is why I started watching you," you finish looking at your best friend.

"You saw?" Paige asks.

"Of course, I saw B, you're my girl," You say using her nickname. Everyone always calls Paige either by her name or first initial. You, on the other hand, call her by her last initial. You are the only one she allows to call her by it. It started when you would only call her by her last name freshman year, never using her first name and it drove her crazy. When the two of you became best friends, you shortened it to B. She didn't know how she felt about it until you mentioned it you liked it because no one else called her that and you wanted a special nickname that only you use. Hence, her shooting daggers at anyone else who tries to call her by your nickname.

Paige's heart tugs when she hears you call her 'your girl'. That's all she really wants but values you too much to make any sort of move. She has come to terms that a friendship is all the two of you will ever have and is okay with that knowing you will always be there. But it is in moments like this that she wants more for the two of you.

She waddles over to you. You open your arms to embrace her. She walks into your arms and you hug her, she doesn't hug you back but stands there like a child with her head in your neck.

That night you spend the night at her house. The two of you have a movie night and Paige falls asleep to She's the Man and you stoking her hair.

You are running back to your apartment to see if Paige is around and find your apartment filled with girls from the team. They are all doing an IG live. You smile at the girls before you and know you need to wait to talk to Paige. You quietly make your way to your room but don't go completely unnoticed.

As you are making your way over, Paige's arm reaches back and squeezes your knee. You give her a smile and run your hands through her hair.

She lets out a little moan, not loud enough for anyone to hear except herself.

You are grateful you are covered by Azzi and another girl. There have been several times the two of you have had to mitigate dating rumors and didn't want to deal with that tonight. You head back to your room and lay on your bed scrolling through IG, waiting for the girls to finish up.

It also gives you time to think through how you want to approach talking to Paige. She is the only one you trust with something so intimate.

I mean not only is she your best friend, but since the two of you got to college she has been pretty active and I don't just mean playing ball. The two of you talked about her habits early on. She was allowed to bring girls home on weekends or after games and all you asked is that she didn't mention any details and that they were gone by the time you had to be up in the morning. Her sexual life never affected you. If you were honest, you were glad at least one of you was getting laid.

You hear the girls start saying their goodbyes and that is your cue that the live has ended and it is safe to make your way to tell them bye.

Making your way out, you head to the group. You say bye to all of them and they leave your apartment.

"How did it go?" You ask Paige as she grabs an apple and takes a bite.

"It was aight, they did a Q & A which was fun." She says as she wipes her bottom lip.

You start to feel nervous and begin fiddling with a paper on the counter.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" She asks noticing your nervousness. You give her a smile, always loving when she calls you pretty or any pet name really. It's endearing.

"I have to ask you something - and I don't really know how to ask it so I am just going to come out and ask," you say beginning to ramble. "You can say no, but I am only asking you because I know you and you know me and I trust you."

"Spit it out ma," she says going in for another bite of her apple.

"Willyoushowmehowtobeintimatewithagirl?" You say faster than you could breathe.

Paige chokes on her apple and begins to cough. She doesn't think she has heard you correctly.

"B, are you okay?" You ask patting her on the back. She takes a step away from you and you retreat a little yourself.

This was a bad idea, you think to yourself as you begin to feel embarrassed by the ask you have of your best friend.

"Repeat what you just said," she says, telling not asking. You open your mouth and she clarifies, "Slower this time."

You gulp, feeling even more nervous than before.

"Will you," you say with another gulp. "Will you show - teach me how to be intimate with a girl?"

Paige's mind is racing - almost as fast as her heart. She wants to say yes immediately but has done such a good job of hiding her feelings up to this point.

"You want me to show you how to fuck girls?" She asks bluntly.

You blush at her directness.

"Well that and more," you say. "You know, like what to do and what feels good. What girls like in bed and stuff but also like how to kiss and stuff." You can't look at her when you ask the last part.

Paige's head is now spinning and beginning to throb. And trust me when I say her head is not the only thing that is beginning to throb.

You begin to feel like you are asking too much of your best friend.

"B, you are the only person I trust and you know I am a literal child when it comes to being intimate with someone. I would never ask anyone else because they don't know me like you do and I know this wouldn't change anything between us." You say.

Paige is now leaning on the counter with her head in her hands. She is just trying to get the image of you, laying out before her - exposed, out of her head before she takes you right here on the kitchen counter. Her skin is buzzing.

"Paige," you begin and her head whips up. You are too caught up in your own nervousness to notice how her pupils are dilated.

"Why now?" She asks.

"A girl from one of my classes asked me out on Friday and I want to be prepared for anything," you say slightly embarrassed.

Paige's heart fills with jealousy thinking about another girl taking you out and making you laugh. Thinking about her touching you and making you moan her name.

A fire begins to burn in Paige. She is in a complete internal battle with herself. Why would she show you how to make someone else feel good? But at the same time, she absolutely hates the idea of you with someone else and if she is your first - she would at least have that.

You touch her arm as Paige's skin feels like it just went up into a burning pile of flames. When did you get so close to her?

"If this makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to do it." You say looking deep into her eyes.

She could stare into your eyes forever. You really don't know the effect you have on her. Paige would move mountains for you. She would do anything to make you happy even if it caused her pain. She would give you her last breath if it meant she got to see you smile one last time. As much as she knows this is a bad idea, she knows how much it took for you to ask her. She knows how uncomfortable you get when someone hits on you in a bar or when someone gets too close. She knows your ask is genuine because you used her first name.

Paige takes a moment to gather all of her thoughts then takes your hand.

"I'll do it," is all she says before you jump in her arms. Her arms wrap around you and she inhales the scent of your shampoo.

"Thank you so much B! I promise to be the best student ever," you say as you give her a squeeze.

She doesn't say it, but that is exactly what Paige is afraid of - you being her best. You being her best but not hers.

AN: First part down! Let me know what you think! This series will be posted every Sunday until The End is posted. I hope you enjoyed it. And as always, thank you for your love and support 💙

[desi2go]

Importance

pairings: dad!Chan x mom!reader

warnings: angst, fluff

summary: Having a child with an idol isn't easy...

author's note: I'm sorry that I couldn't post anything the last two weeks. But here I am with a new one!

Marriage wasn't easy. Especially when your beloved husband was an idol. The Bang Chan, leader of Stray Kids.

Between tours and busy schedules, there was little time for your relationship. But even though it was hard and you missed him like hell when he was gone for a long time, you still didn't regret to come to your best friend Changbin's party years ago. There, you had met him.

Well, he didn't see you and accidentally poured his drink over you. When your eyes met, he was fascinated by your breathtaking beauty. Maybe it was destiny back then. It felt surreal, like he was your soulmate. The missing piece in in your heart and life.

Apologetic, he bought you a drink and after a wonderful night together, asked for your number.

Soon, he took you out on a date and there followed a second and a third, becoming a huge part in your life.

Without noticing, time passed and Chan proposed to you.

You immediately said yes and became Mrs. Bang.

The second you were married, your family asked when you both would begin to try for a baby but Chan and you wanted to wait some time before thinking about an addition to your family.

You still were young and Stray kids took much time and you understood that. Your job was also one of your top priorities and wanted to earn more money.

But it seemed that the universe had other plans with you two. Seven months after the wedding you started feeling sick. At first you brushed it off and thought that it is just a stomach bug or the stress due to work.

As the lovely but overly concerned husband that he is, Chan took you too a doctor to get a check up. Even though you found it a little bit overdramatic, he still insisted and the reason why you felt nauseous was soon found. You were indeed pregnant and already two months into pregnancy.

Sure, it wasn't planned but you and Chan felt excited to have a small addition to the family. And sooner or later it would have happend anyways.

Chan promised that when the pregnancy was farther along, he would take some time off and help you. You agreed to that and decided to work some more months too before you need to go into maternity leave.

The months passed fast and soon, you welcomed your newest family member. A girl. A sweet girl with already some black locks on her head and the same brown eyes that you fell in love with.

Chan was over the moon. Even though during labour, he was terrified. Would he be a good dad? But all these thoughts washed away when he saw the beautiful angel you both had created with your undying love.

He was the first one to hold her as her crying filled the room. Exhausted, you observed the picture in front of you. Your husband with his precious daughter that already looked like a smaller copy of him.

He was told to undress his shirt and to lay the little bundle of joy against his bare chest to help her breath and keeping her warmth while the doctor checked on you because you had lost a lot of blood during birth.

The first weeks were exhausting. Your little girl, Nari, held both of you awake most of the night. Yourself needed to heal and time to recover from the labor, so you relied mostly on your husband who took such good care for his girl. Fortunately, he got some weeks off to settle into parenthood before going back to the boys even though they nearly saw each other every day.

Since you got home from the hospital, four days after birth, they visited you to meet their 'little sister' as they called Nari. Oh lord, they were so smitten. The only one that seems not so sure about that little human was Seungmin but when he thought that nobody would watch, you catched him drawing circles over Nari's hands, smiling when she wrapped her hand around one of his fingers.

When Chan went back, the house was suddenly so empty. After weeks of being together 24/7, the sudden quiet was unfamiliar. In the mornings, Chan was already out, you loved to lay on the couch, your daughter on your chest, snuggling close to you while sleeping.

When Chan came back home in the evening, he greeted you with a kiss and immediately ran off to his daughter to tell her about his day even though she was already sleeping. You loved to observe him while cooking. You loved this little family. It was something that you ever wanted.

You really loved Nari. But after the pregnancy and early motherhood, you needed some space for yourself. You would love to spend an evening with your girls. Just making yourself look pretty and have fun without watching over a child.

Especially since you almost never leave the house except for some stroller walks and buying errands.

You asked your husband if he comes home some hours earlier so that you could enjoy your night. Immediately, he agreed and you were so grateful that he understood you.

On that day, you took your time with getting ready while your daughter slept. You hoped that Chan would be home soon so that you would be on time since you hated being late.

Minutes passed as you sat on the couch waiting for him. Minutes turned into half an hour and you wrote your girls that you would run a little late today. They were understanding.

More minutes passed and you waited already for a whole hour. You tried to call him since he was always so focused on his work so that he sometimes forgets the time.

He didn't pick up and you were already half an hour late. Your girls were already seated in your restaurant, waiting for you to show up so that they could start ordering food.

Sighing, you texted then that you couldn't make it and they shouldn't wait up on you. Frustrated, you cleared your face from the make up that was hours worth of work.

You took off the new dress that you had bought. You were so excited to wear it because it made you feel so pretty again after the pregnancy made you look bloated and your belly was still not the same then before.

You didn't know if you felt rage, sadness or disappointment that you needed to stay home because of your husband.

It wouldn't be so bad if it was the first time after he got back to work. He used to come back at a normal time to have some time with you and the baby. But as the weeks passed, he stayed later and got up earlier so that you saw him just for some minutes per day.

It was like you were all on your own here in your home. You knew from the beginning that Stray kids was really important to him but after entering parenthood you had hoped that he wouldn't stay till past midnight in the company.

You heard the key unlocking the front door and your husband finally decided to come home after he had promised you that he would be here three hours ago. He greeted you with a small peck on the forehead as you waited for him in the living room.

He looked so calm while dropping his bag to the ground and sitting down on the couch.

"Why are you standing there honey?" He asked. You crossed your arms. He didn't even remembered that this was supposed to be your night out.

"Why are you so late?" You tried to remain calm since your daughter slept in the neighbouring room.

"I was working on the newest song for stray kids" he explained.

"Oh really? Because you said you would be here hours ago" you didn't want to pick a fight. You hated fighting with him. It made your heart clench but this night was important to you.

"I'm sorry honey. But I needed to get it done"

"Well, I had plans for the night, Chan."

"Really? I'm sorry honey. I forgot and this song was important"

"The song was important? My reservation with the girls was important to me" you said and couldn't hold the calm tone that you wanted.

"I already said I'm sorry, Y/n. I got caught up in work" He grew annoyed.

"Like always. You're always so late that I wonder if you even remember that you have a family at home" You knew you were mean and unfair but all these things were twirling around your head for days.

"Of course I remember! I'm sorry that I make money for us" he exclaimed sarcastically. His voice loud, nearly shouting.

These words hurt you. He knew damn well that you aren't dependent on his money and that you make good money as well. Even though you currently took a maternity leave.

"Fuck you, Chan. You aren't the only one working. I was asking you for just one thing. Just being home a little earlier so that I could have some time for myself." You said loudly, your voice cracking in the middle as some tears stung in your eyes.

"Y/n. I-" he tried but you stopped him.

"Nari is your child too. Currently, I'm the only one she sees whether it's in the morning or in the evening. And I'm tired. Tired of being the only one raising her."

You heard cries from the other room. You must have woken up your sleeping daughter. Sighing, you excited the room and headed to Nari without waiting for an answer.

Chan knew that he went too far and that he was more away than home. And it pained him to not spend so much time with his daughter. Slowly he followed you to your daughter's room.

It was dimly lit and you sat in the rocking chair next to her crib with Nari in your arms, rocking her. He hated seeing her in distress and guilt crept up. He was a terrible father and an even more terrible husband.

You felt Chan's hot gaze on you. You knew that the guilt ate him alive right now. He couldn't fool you. Therefore you knew him too well.

After placing Nari back into her crib, giving her a light kiss on her soft skin that smelled so sweet like a baby. Your baby.

Then, you took Chan's hand and lead you outside to the kitchen, farther away from your daughter.

He just followed you, deep in thoughts.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry. I should have come early. And I know that parenting a child alone is difficult. I didn't want to lash out on you like that. I know that the meeting with your friends was important to you" he said and caressed your hand.

"I'm sorry too. It's obvious that you try to be around Nari as long and often as you can."

"No, you were right. I need to be here more. Especially with you both. I shouldn't let work take over so much" he said and pulled you into his arms.

His arms circled around your waist while yours travelled upwards into his fluffy locks. Exhausted he let his head fall on your shoulder, all the tension leaving his body.

"I love you Chan" you whispered.

"I love you too. You and Nari are the most important things in my life"

[elllisaaa]

Can I pls request seventeen reaction when they have a crush on reader they get jealous when she hangs out with her guy best friend (they are also super close) more than them?

hiii anonie ! i love that everyone keeps sending me these type of request for seventeen because i love to do them so so much ! hope you'll like it !

seventeen being jealous of your bff

-> pairing : svt x gn!reader

-> word count : 2.7k

-> genre : fluff

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

Despite Seungcheol being cute and sweet around you most of the time, he’s not so chill anymore when he sees you being all over another guy. He perfectly knows that he’s your best friend, perfectly knows that you want both of them to get along well because that’s why you asked him to come with you to this café, but he couldn’t help glaring at the other guy like he committed the worst crimes ever. Cheol tried his best to remain respectful and answer your best friend's questions, but he couldn’t help feeling a little jealous at watching you laugh with someone else about things he had no clue about. This would make him realize how bad he wanted to be with you, and how dumb it was of him to try and act as if he was not smitten by you. After this meeting during which he spent the whole time staring at the guy, he would plan the perfect confession to tell you how he feels about you and to not have to support this anymore. 

YOON JEONGHAN 

As usual, Jeonghan will act like a little shit. When you told him you wanted to plan a game night with him and your best friend so they could meet, he knew it was his chance to be insufferable. And he was the most annoying the whole night : cheating at every game and pretending to have done nothing, teasing your best friend for being a loser, and being the cheeky bastard he is. Deep down, he just felt like he was too late to confess to you about his crush, seeing how close and comfortable you seemed to be with this other guy. And it was only the worst side of him telling him to take some kind of revenge by being very irritating. Though Jeonghan would feel bad when you left and told him that he could’ve been nicer to your best friend. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel like he didn’t care about you and your emotions. It would take him a few hours of deep thinking before he sent you the longest text ever to explain his behavior and thus confess. 

HONG JOSHUA

Not being a very jealous person, Joshua didn’t expect the rush of anger that came with running into you and your best friend at the mall. There was seemingly nothing to be jealous about, you were just acting like a normal person being close and affectionate with their best friend. He was perfectly aware of that, but still, he felt like the third wheel while walking with the two of you. When he would try to talk to you, the other guy would always open his mouth and Joshua was getting really annoyed. Finally, your best friend left, leaving you with a pouty Joshua. You would ask him what’s wrong, and why he didn’t make an effort to get along with your best friend. And even if Joshua had been planning to confess for some time, trying to think about the most romantic way to do it, seeing another guy looking at you with the same lovestruck gaze he stared at you with was his last straw. He would tell you all about his feelings on the spot and pray inside that will not reject him.

MOON JUNHUI

He really holds his heart on his sleeve, so it’s not difficult to notice whether he’s happy or angry. Thus when you presented your long distance best friend that you hadn’t seen in a long time to him and his members, you could see how annoyed he was by the other guy's presence. You had every right to be all over someone you hadn’t seen in over a year, yes, but Jun felt a little bad anyway. You two had grown closer and closer, and he really thought that you had something special going on, that it was starting to be a little more than a casual friendship on your side too. But when he was seeing how you were acting around your best friend, he was not so sure anymore that you could maybe reciprocate his feelings. You were never so touchy with him, never so affectionate, never so flirty or straightforward. You would obviously notice how bothered and mostly sad Jun seemed to be the entire night but he kept saying that everything was okay, and he would end up leaving earlier because he could not stand the sight anymore. He would doubt a little but in the end, his friends will convince him to confess before it’s too late. 

KWON SOONYOUNG

He would think that he’s sleek, but frankly, even you could see that he was jealous of the bond between you and your best friend. You would often bring him with you for your friendly gathering because you didn’t want him to spend his weekends alone and he was getting along well with everyone. Everyone except Soonyoung who couldn’t seem to appreciate him. In all honesty, your best friend was a cool guy, but Soonyoung didn’t want to befriend the guy who could probably steal his crush if he tried. This would get to the point that you would get in a fight with him about it, clearly not pleased that he didn’t make any effort to try and talk with your best friend. Your argument would be really bad, and you would both ignore each other for a week or two, too proud to admit that both of you had some parts to take in the fight. Soonyoung will eventually come back to you, practically begging on his knees to let him back in your life and accidentally confessing along the way of his monologue. 

JEON WONWOO

Wonwoo is not one to get jealous easily, especially since you’re only his crush and not his partner, he has nothing to say in who you’re talking to and how you act with these same people. So to be honest, he’s not really jealous of the relationship you have with your best friend, but more of the way this guy is able to openly express his interest in you, always finding a way to compliment you and flirt with you without it making you uncomfortable. Which is precisely what Wonwoo is struggling to do, not knowing if saying that he finds you incredibly pretty in this or that outfit is off limits for “just friends”. Is it different because your bestie has no real attraction towards you and Wonwoo is genuinely trying to show you that he could treat you right ? Probably. But still, he’ll stay more quiet everytime your best friend is with you. You would assume that’s because he doesn’t feel too comfortable with people he doesn’t know much the first few times, and Wonwoo would take care that you don’t discover the real reason while taking mental notes of how to try and show you that he wants more as subtly as possible. 

LEE JIHOON

Since he’s always trying to remember the most insignificant details about you and what you like, he would take pride in knowing things that your best friend doesn’t. He would never say it out loud obviously, but still, the discreet smirk on his face would give it away. When you go out at a coffee shop, your best friend always has to ask you what you want when Jihoon simply brings you your usual because he got your order memorized. While your best friend always has to ask you what you want or need for your birthday, Jihoon always knows exactly what to gift you and he never misses. But every time you told him about the things you did alone with the guy, or what you had planned with him for the weekends, he felt a little jealous. At this point, he thinks you’re either not interested in him or that you’re just very dense and oblivious to all the subtle things he does to show his interest in you. You have so much partner privileges and he’s not even your boyfriend. Yet. Because it would take him only a few more times of your best friend missing on what you really like to rush and finish the song he wanted to confess to you with.

LEE SEOKMIN

He doesn’t hide his jealousy well at all, everyone who knows him a little bit is able to tell that he doesn’t like your best friend. He thinks that the guy is not handsome, not interesting and not even funny. Well, not as much as him at least. That is a lie because deep down, he can’t help but wonder if you really like this guy more than him. So Seokmin will try to take as much space as possible, talking louder and making a lot more jokes than usual so that your attention would be on him and not on your best friend. He’s always a little extra on a daily basis, but when your best friend is here too, he’s even more outgoing, to the point he becomes a little annoying. But the only way he has to be more interesting than your best friend is by doing all this, or so he thought. When you told him that it was in fact a little disrespectful for the other guy and that you didn’t understand why he could not try to befriend him when he was usually the sweetest, Seokmin felt like an idiot and apologized immediately, cheeks burning and trying to come up with an excuse. His crush is as well hidden as his jealousy (that is to say, not at all), so you’re only waiting for him to finally confess. 

KIM MINGYU

Another one who’s painfully obvious but he wouldn’t make a big deal of it in front of you, simply pouting and getting a lot quieter than he usually is. He will get so sulky, everytime he finds you laughing more at your best friend's jokes than at his. But he finds you so cute that he can’t stay mad at you for too long and he ends up liking the other guy because he’s obviously not mean nor annoying, Mingyu just can’t bear the thought of him snatching your attention away. And if he would of course never say a word about it to you directly, he will definitely complain about your best friend to some of his members, going on and on about why he can’t make up the fact that you like this guy more than him and that he can’t stand to hear you two joke around about things he doesn’t know about. Mingyu’s members would end up telling you to please do something about the situation because they can’t spend another two hours listening to why you should go out with him and not your best friend. He would be so shy when you address the issue with him, trying to deny it despite his red cheeks. But it’s okay because he’s very cute. 

XU MINGHAO

He's pretty level-headed so it's not easy to get him to feel jealousy. And if it ever happens, Minghao knows that this emotion is not rational because firstly, you told him time and time how much you loved your relationship with your best friend and didn't want it to change, and secondly, you were not his partner - yet - so he had no right to be jealous. Of course, he doesn't doubt your intentions and what you told him, but he can't help but be suspicious about how your best friend perceives you. Because the guy looks at you the same way Minghao does : with fondness, like you were his entire world. And that was the whole problem. Because Minghao had tried to give you some hints here and there for a few months, just to test the water and you seemed not to have pushed him away so he was happy. But seeing the way you did the same thing with your bestie when you had explicitly told him you didn't have any feelings for him got him worried. Maybe you didn't really like him in the end, maybe you were just trying to be kind and not hurt him ? So rather than being jealous, he would be anxious. It's probably what would give him the little push he needed to finally confess to you.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

I think he would try - and notice how I insist on try - to stay calm and collected because from an outside point of view, there is nothing wrong going on. But from his point of view, your best friend is clearly being too touchy and Seungkwan feels jealous even if he denies it. Because the nasty looks he gives your best friend everytime he hangs out with you kinda gives it away. He’s so obvious but won’t say a word about the real reason. Seungkwan will instead pretend it’s because he doesn’t get along with your best friend and dislikes him. He can’t stop himself from making snarky remarks, or mocking him under the guise of it being a joke. And he would have continued like that if you hadn’t told him one time that you were kinda sad that he didn’t like one of the most important people in your life. Seungkwan would feel bad and make an effort to at least tolerate the guy and be a little less mean but the side eyes everytime he did or said something he found embarrassing didn’t go away. He would certainly not be able to put up with this situation for long, and after another time of him not being nice to your best friend, you would have a silly fight during which he will confess. And magically, he was all gentle and friendly to your bestie after you became his partner. 

CHWE HANSOL

Hansol and you immediately clicked when you were introduced to each other, never going through the awkward stage of a friendship. So when you told him how, on the contrary, you stayed pretty long in this uncomfortable situation with your best friend before getting very close to each other, he felt kind of superior to the other guy, like his bond with you was much more real and valid. Hansol didn’t really know where all these feelings were coming from, nor why he felt so upset seeing you hug and be touchy with someone that was not him. Not that both of you were particularly physically affectionate, but you often had a hand on his arm when you talked, or you placed your head on his shoulder when you were watching a movie, or you held on to him or his jacket to not get lost when walking through crowded spaces. And Hansol thought that these moments were special, that he was special in a sense. This wouldn’t really be jealousy, but much more disappointment because he would think he read the signs wrong and start to cancel plans if he knows your best friend will be here. He would however decide to confess or at least do something to sort this problem when you told him that you were sad he was distancing himself from you.

LEE CHAN

Even if his crush on you is pretty obvious, his jealousy would not be so visible. Chan would choose to befriend your bestie instead because you know what they say : keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. So he’ll play the kind and fun guy around him, just to see how your best friend acts with you. And he’s clearly not having it, not loving at all the fact that he always touches you and tries to get closer to you. Sometimes, it even seems like you don’t even want him to touch you and swat his hands away but he always comes back pretending it’s a joke, playfully fighting. But Chan doesn’t need to be an expert in relationships to understand that this is clearly not okay, and he can’t help thinking that he would never do that to you, that he will always respect your consent. He’s also pretty sure that you have a thing for him too so he’s not going to put up with the situation for too long. Until then, he’ll subtly make comments or do things to make you understand his intentions more and to signal to your best friend that he’s not going to take you away from him anymore. 

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie @bewoyewo

[comfortless]

Only Other

chapter three of three.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, smut (piv), sliiiight breeding kink, violence, as always König is horribly in love and says ridiculously worrisome things, reader feigns ambivalence but is equally unhinged and smitten.

notes: eternally grateful to @wordsbyvani for reading over my shoulder and genuinely being the sweetest throughout every part. ^^ and again to @writersdrug for giving me the idea to begin with!

wc: 9k.

<- previous.

König’s men arrive sometime in the afternoon, a few hours behind but carrying hoards of supplies. There are weapons you recognize to be from your city stuffed into bags, pelts and silks and twinkling stones, meats and fruits. They had not forgotten to bring along wine, either: two barrels to either side of a gray mare led along behind one of their rugged steeds by a length of thick rope.

You don’t ask how they found her, let alone how they managed to actually tame her down enough to follow amidst the chaos that broke out the night prior. A weak string of “thank you”s leaves your lips when you press your nose to the horse's snout, sobbing into her silver fur. She seems less bothered, huffing impatiently as she’s tethered up with the others against broad trees.

You’re not convinced that here or anywhere is safe anymore, and you don’t assist when the men begin to set up their camp. They’ve enough supplies and arms to do it themselves, anyhow.

Guilt, trepidation and confusion, haunt you: cast out for all to see by your forlorn stares and the tremor of your lower lip as you continuously fight an internal battle to keep yourself sane. And how could you? You’ve only come to reason that this has all come to fruition because of you, because of the things that you could not help. Your curiosity, fascinations, and impiety had all led you to be here, now, while everyone you once knew sleeps eternally.

You have condemned yourself to the life of a slave girl, and later to the darkness of the Orcus when you do die.

Though… men do not give their slaves the looks that König gives to you. You haven’t spoken to him in hours, and you do your best to avoid his glances, shoot down his smiles with the curved arrow of your own sullen frowns. Still… amidst setting up the tents and gathering wood for the fire to stave off the chill of nightfall, you catch the very stars reflected over a sea in his eyes.

There is love there, a too-uncanny and harrowing love, but a great devotion nonetheless. It burns like a fire of its own in your chest, inescapable and rampant. You know it in the spaces behind your skull, your ribs, that what he feels is another cage: roomier, softer, but you will never be free of it either.

König does not follow you to the tent when the moon rises. He sits by the fire, watching as you go with the pelt drawn up over your shoulders and curled around you. When you sink into the bed of fur that has replaced the straw mattress from before you find yourself somehow even more fitful here than outside. Sleep is evasive, leaving you tossing and twisting amidst the smell of sweat and animal fur. Not even the crackling fire outside defeats the quiet or the cold in the air.

There’s a sickly pit in your stomach, thorn seedling threatening to take root and spread the longer you stare up at the blackened abyss of the tent ceiling. If you’re to live a life torn, at the very least you could be warm; you take to König’s side in moments, joining him by the slowly dwindling flame.

The brute isn’t sleeping, either, just… lost. Lost like you the day that you met him.

“I need to look at your wound.” Your excuse comes weak and puny, doe limbs and fragile glances when you do sit at his side and speak. You’ve never been anyone’s ‘Göttin’, you don’t know what you’re doing, what blessings to grant or judgments to cast. Avoiding him only seems a punishment for you both, and you’ve had your share of those.

König is anything but small: even amidst the turmoil your silence has gifted to him, he still seems himself, all ego and cruelly cut silver, softened only by your words, your touch.

“Richtig,” he mutters, reaches out to pull you in, and you let him. Straddling his lap with only the moon above awake to witness, cast her curious gaze down and illuminate the expanse of his chest whilst you work to pull away the bandages.

There isn’t much to tend to, it’s healing well. The flesh that once seemed inflamed has only drawn back its redness to simmer to the natural color of his skin. When you begin your careful prodding, it does not hurt him. He doesn’t so much as flinch or huff at your touch.

When you dab your index in the sweet honey that serves as a salve, he grasps at your hand and brings it up to his lips, presses a kiss to your index and middle without hesitation. And you see it then: a glimmer of hesitation in the way his lips pull and his eyes search your own, a silent plea for vindication.

You’ve never been cold to him, not even as he spoke with so much self-importance when you first met, not when he rutted his blade between your parted legs, not even now after all that he’s done. In his own way of thinking, these things have all been some display of courtship. There’s never cruelty toward you, not in his touch, the words that he speaks, and especially not in those somber eyes. These things break down the last fraying edge of your resolve.

You press your mouth to his, sharing the taste of honey pressed to his lips, everything sugary and warm. Over and over until the night begins to close its way in, plump clouds drifting over the pearl hanging in the sky when you finally find yourself tucked back into the tent with König curled at your side. He holds you closer than he ever has, not from a fear you’ll take off under the darkened sky, but in the honoring of something far greater. Some love comes quiet like flower blooms, his comes with fire.

“Wolves pair in winter,” he says quietly, burying his face into your hair. It’s shy, almost, as though the man has not already embedded his scent into your very skin and toyed with your most sensitive parts. It’s truer, more heartfelt, than even his confessions of love.

“Is that what you see us as being?” You laugh, a slow, gentle chime that aches your throat, face still puffy from tears and voice scratchy from those thick clouds of smoke.

“Ja…”

“You really…” The words get caught up someplace in the spaces between your lungs and tongue. You don’t want to cry, not anymore, but you find it difficult not to choke up after so much comfort with a lifetime of so very little. “You do care for me, don’t you?”

He answers your question in a grumble, a string of foreign words only meant for mountain caverns and creatures that walk on all fours and somehow they make sense. A resounding yes, in three gutteral sounding words. The frayed ends of guilt and anger finally drift off as you settle into his hold like a den of pure comfort, warm and buried in a world of fur and a man blessed by trees and the earth rather than gods and myth.

When the breeze picks up outside, rustling sprawling oak limbs, momentarily silencing the fire, its as if they answer him in your stead. You don’t cry, though it aches, but you let go of the memories of all your begging to those that never seemed to listen. Here, in the dark you’ve found the only person that seems to understand without even knowing.

You drag the pelts up over the both of you, clasp your hand over his where it rests beneath them, and fall into a haze of contentment. He draws you nearer, breath filtering through your hair from where his head lies just above your own.

The dreams that come are no longer of places you can not reach, but only of the memory of a city that was never meant to house your spirit.

You wake to König’s pawing. It begins along your sternum, hand placed flat there only to glide further up and push at your tit. It’s gentle and testing, pushes fire into your very veins when for the first time he doesn’t seem to remain entranced there. It drifts, further up to cup your jaw.

“You are awake?,” he rasps, propping himself up to inspect your face where you lie, weakened and warmed by sleep.

“Yes…”

“Are you still bereaved?,” König asks in such a hushed voice, reaching toward you again. His hand seems to tremble when it finds your face, thumb brushing over your mouth with such trepidation it seems misplaced for him.

“Partly.”

You consider your dreams again: the open street, devoid of people apart from those that face down at you with contempt building in hollow eye sockets. Where grass once sprung up beneath the cracks in the stones, there were only small flames. And you do still grieve for those that were innocent in the entire affair, those trampled by cattle when they had only just had a taste of escape. Your very mind begins to darken at the thoughts, your body only tensing further, a bowstring on the verge of snapping,

“Is that why I can not have you?”

“I never said…” Your voice only grows thin, detached almost from the way you purse your lips to kiss the digit toying with you. Your heart is only thunder, the sound of those wretched hooves: yearning was dangerous itself, your own only seemed to take further shape with each passing moment. Claws and a waiting maw, just like the wolves he speaks of.

König hums, a deep rumble from his chest as he gives a slow nod of acknowledgement.

It all becomes tree sap, a sticky confectionery bout. His mouth descends upon your own as though starved, hurried and longing as he samples you, the you who certainly yearned for the bathhouses to clean herself properly. All thought seems to dispel when his hand leaves your cheek and neck to begin its painfully slow descent between your legs, burrow between wax and honey to pull soft cries from your mouth.

He only stills his dismantling of you when you’re trembling and doughy, squeezing around his fingers so tightly you wonder how he can continue to bury them inside at all.

Just as the other gods, Sol is lost here when König crawls over you, all shadow and wretched, led here with the promise of a prey that you are not. Only another wolf… the flame in his winter eyes is the same that’s settled inside of you.

His head dips to kiss into your hair while your leg is pulled to settle over his hip. You feel a kiss, a different sort, when the pillar of his manhood reaches between your bodies to settle over your sex, probing at your slit that only seems to pulse and beg under his touch.

You had never found these silly metaphors enticing with the men of the city, even the entertainers with their pretty words could have never lured you this far down. Yet, here is different, here is cold and lonely and wild: a culmination of all that he is, incarnation of the earth and man and a desperate hunt.

“You are ready for me,” your god hums, pleased, as he coats himself in your arousal, sticky like warm sap. The sounds of his toying with you are something you should be accustomed to now, with him, but still makes your face warm. Not with shame, only a quiet desperation. “Beautiful little goddess...”

It’s summer here; winter tears its claws right out of your flesh when the sun itself sinks inside. The turning of seasons is natural, so dreadfully normal you’ve never bat an eye until you could physically feel it: the strip of your own apprehension tossed into a steaming sea, the dewy wetness all but drowning you entirely.

And it’s König who loses himself first, a sound so pitiful carving its way out of him you would almost believe him to be hurt if not for the way he throbs inside of you. He feeds it, a stuttering twitch of his hips as he slowly brings you toward him by your hips. Far too large to properly bottom out but encumbered and ecstatic by the sensation around him. Tighter than any sheath, but a weapon pushes through you all the same- inch by loving inch, until he manages to fully fill you with himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you, little one.“ Each word is torn from him, punctuated heavily by the shallow movement of his body and the drag of a demanding cock. Restraint is a peculiar thing hovering over him, his brow pinched as though forcing himself to concentrate on not ripping you apart where you lie.

“You’re not hurting me..,” you sigh as your hands find his shoulders, fingernails dimpling the skin there. If anything the urgency is only shared.

When your hips push back to meet him, the lead is dropped, another surrender. Too much trust for a man deserving of none of it.

His response is a breathy groan, mouth finding your shoulder as his hands drift to pull your hips upward to better meet him. Teeth find purchase along your flesh, gentle as he can be, but grinding and desperate to leave a mark, a piece of him behind.

It’s almost with a fury that he stuffs himself into you then, his jaw going slack and eyes wild, hands grasping at every inch of your pillowy flesh that he can reach.

Never could König have looked more beautiful than now, once starved and now tasked, for and now with you. His gaze trails from where your thighs tremble around him, to where the sap pools and nature builds up its own obscene choir at your togetherness… and then, to your face where his gaze only shatters into softness.

Something bubbles right against your lash line, a stray tear, overwhelmed by the feel of the giant ravishing you, pulling you down from your world of jewels and pillars to his own devoid of anything but need.

His head dips immediately, tongue running up the length of your cheek, a hand falling away to pry open your already parted thigh as he licks at and fucks into you like something truly feral. He coos his praises against your mouth, parted and whining, claims a new kingdom all for himself in you, of you.

You feel how the temples must, trodden through and left with gifts, blood and honey and fire as the muscles of your thighs begin to tense. Instinct spurs you to catch his lip between your teeth, push your hips back to laboriously furl around him.

His pace comes to a halt, settling to only grind himself so deeply within you that you feel the last of the stars begin to die out in the recesses of your skull, dim and dumbly smothered until they reignite in a blinding wave of white. König does not give you the time to settle, only spears into you with a renewed fervor as you cinch around him, furthering your rapture to a point that is almost agonizing.

He chases his own end with the same famished glare as before, stares right into your eyes as you pull iron from his lip and cast it into the fire of your waiting mouth. The sting, the bliss, only makes him whimper, a sound so small and choked its unfathomable to have come from a man who slams into you as though you were paid for.

You lick into his mouth in a way so tentative and fragile he immediately crashes down, blankets you in the strength of his arms and kisses you in turn: so soft and chaste it’s uncanny in this moment. His groan of defeat only comes when he stills fully, buried to the hilt, thrumming and shivering through his own release. Honey and seafoam, the rise of a tide touching earth to brim and spill past your joining.

He chases the feeling for several moments longer, bucking his hips sloppily as he lies atop your spent form, barely coherent when he mutters nonsensical praises into your hair, against your neck, the corner of your mouth- any place he can think to leave a kiss.

“… everything,” he mutters when he lies atop you fully, satisfied where he nestles his head into the fur below you both. “Everything I have ever wanted.”

The day passes on like this. Even as his men maneuver about camp, preparing to hunt or practice with their stolen weapons. The only thing König seems keen on doing is bringing you to ruin, repairing you with kisses pressed into your hair, along your cheek.

He leaves you only twice as the day drags onward. Once to gather you a meal of something meaty roasted over the fire, what remained of a boar, a gathering of dried fruit, and water from a small flask. You’re famished and exhausted by the thrill of being shoved down into the fur to tolerate him three times over already. The twinkle in his eye is nothing short of mischievous when you do finally tell him that you need to rest after eating.

After a bout of playfully shoving him away, you only find yourself on top of him, then. He seemed entirely unashamed, more hurried and desperate than before as he bucks at you like a wild horse, voicing his praises and spitting out such sugary sweet nonsense about how you would carry his son and only ever experience him, you almost felt shy. A curled finger hooks under your jaw to force you to look down at him, lose yourself in the vast, uneasy sea of his eyes while he floods you with his seed again. Finally, he seems sated, pulls you down to lie atop him.

König promises you that he will find your mother, that he will take care of you as no other has or ever could, while stroking along your back. He tells you of the mountains, the trees, the animals and the men who live amongst them and inside of them.

He tells you of the sea when you ask, how the sand is softer and sticks as if it never wants you to go. In turn, you tell him that he must be like the sea then, never fully parting from you, leaving his trace imprinted upon your skin with teeth rather than sand. A sea that loves instead of hungers, one that presses you onto your back to wash over you to steal the very breath from your chest and push it back with a kiss.

— — —

The wilderness is cruel. Wild things lurk in the brush and occasionally you pass by other settlements. Less friendly than the small band you have grown accustomed to. You’re always urged to shush, then have yourself tucked further against König while he speaks low and threatening to any would-be bandits. Only once has that resulted in a death, but not to one of König’s own. You didn’t watch when the man with the red hair carved a hole through the trespasser, just squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into a waiting bicep.

Days pass on horseback, your legs feel stiff and clumsy, and there are no amount of pelts serving as makeshift saddles that could ever help the ache that shoots up from your pelvis. It serves no aid at all that, when riding ahead or too far behind the other men, König takes this newfound intimacy between you two to be a liberty. Regardless of your formation, he never ceases looking at you as though his only wish is to devour you whole.

Those times are often quick, palm pressed over your mouth as he dutifully breeds you beneath the sun, in the softest patch of withering wild grass or barren land available. You melt into him, part your legs like a wife rather than some skittish woman that he himself has whisked away. Each time, he whispers his praises, professes his love in more creative ways, covers you in so many kisses you feel a bit dazed by the time the ordeal is through.

Then, you’re righted back onto the horse with König at your back, the most horribly endearing smile plastered upon his face.

It’s not much of a surprise that his men do start their caterwauling at some point during the journey to wherever— past dormant trees and approaching the silhouettes of hills so tall and vast you’re certain that they must be the mountains you have heard of, even if you had yet to properly see them. König had made it perfectly clear just what you are to him in his coarse words to his companions, but never directly to you. They do not mock your union, but they do often give you strange looks, particularly at your tummy while they discuss you with their leader.

There’s nothing there, you’re sure of that much, but you shoot them your angriest glare anyway and raise your chin to look forward instead. Their talk of the possibility of a little “prinz” does not distract you from your own thoughts, drifting up to scrape the sky just like the peaks of the mountains.

“So that is where the gods live?,” you ask, mostly to yourself as you curl your fingers into the horse’s reins. There’s subdued laughter from either side of you, and you almost shrink at the thought of making a fool of yourself before these brutes. It wouldn’t be the last time, surely. You couldn’t even bring yourself to fully commit to the idea of there being any sort of vast and ethereal field awaiting you when you die anymore; it was already here before you, painted in the color of evergreen and winter blossoms.

König doesn’t laugh, at least. Only places his palm over the front of your neck and guides your head back to look up to him, gives a toothy grin when your eyes light up just from the sight. It was difficult not to when you’ve been fed and pleasured incessantly by him. You reason that your punishment for forsaking all that you once knew must assuredly be your own mind deteriorating to feel the way that you do.

“They are right here,” he says, so quiet and sweet, gesturing between the two of you. He had no interest in your former gods, of what he seems to view as stories for children, but he listens as you tell him the significance of such lofty places cloaked in fog, mist and trees.

His hand finds your cheek, savors in the feel of your skin against his thumb while you tell him of your misplaced belief in him being some son of a war god that he’s never even known, much less prayed to. He then reminds you of the woman he seems certain could have been your mother, says that surely she must have been wed to the shallow of a sparkling lake to birth something as lovely as you.

The men regroup after some time, stilling their horses and your rowdy mare still tethered behind one of the others to speak, access the distance from here and their destination while sipping wine from leather flasks and putting weapons back in their proper places. You listen on, picking up on the few words you did understand from their language, but ultimately gather nothing from it all.

“Where are you taking me?,” you hazard as you try to push yourself forward in a subtle reminder that yes, you were there too, and woman or not you had a right to know.

“Home,” König gruffs simply in response, gathering you back into his arms and taking the reins from your hands. His chin rests atop your head, the fingers of his free hand petting your side in an attempt to snuff out any further questioning. “You will like it.”

Home. Home to the place he had claimed you would find your mother; to foreign woods and wild downs, sprawling hills and little shacks covered in sticks and leather instead of the villas with their terracotta tiles.

You didn’t even know that you had a place to return to at all, not now. Your eyes catch his, though, and you know then just what it truly must feel like to belong someplace. Never had home been Gaius, reduced to smoldering ash in some divine reckoning, but it had always been with someone you truly believe you have wanted. Had you ever even been allowed to want before him..?

Your brow pinches as you shift to rest your head against the broad back behind you, held fast by the iron grip around your waist. The clouds drift by above, the sun casts a warmth over your face and you fall into comfort, into promise.

— — —

Barbarian settlements are strange.

There are no paved streets here crowded with people and decay, no hallowed and looming temples hungry and waiting for sacrifices. The columns are tree bark and very much alive with twisting limbs and growths of green that never seemed to dull even in the winter, not the stiff and lifeless marble you had grown accustomed to.

The homes are pieced together with wood, clay, anything that could be used with no clear rhyme or reason to their architecture. Goats wander about, bleating out for food or ramming into one another for play. The children don’t sit in houses studying or wander from stall to stall snatching and scurrying off, they play and work. There is a strange contentment here, too, something that feathers on the wind as it does the same on each face that you pass,

Everyone seems to have a place, a thing to be, and you feel like the world’s most delicate and forgotten pearl amidst these people who do not even seem to pay you any mind. If anything, they only seem pleased to see the man with his arm cloaked over your shoulders. They smile to him, greet him in their strange words and dip their heads as though he truly were some king.

Maybe he was, to them, to the wild people with no true reasoning to have any sort of monarchy. They barely had land to claim, much less rule over.

You’re not paraded around as a slave: he cups your jaw and lifts your head when your gaze falls to the dirt and dust below your feet, chides you in a rough whisper about how a Königin should present herself. The people do acknowledge you then, with looks of awe and offerings of dried flowers pressed into your palms and tucked behind your ear, Roman bronze dropped at your feet. You look the part of a proper queen too, when you flash them all your loveliest smile and nestle closer to your giant of flame and earth.

Thoughts of your past in the city come to mind when you note their lack of conveniences. Even the dread of forsaking your own gods briefly leaves you halting midstep before a firm hand urges you forward. König’s warmth comes as a comfort now more than ever when your thoughts do eventually circle back to a guilt, heavy and dreadful: the picture of Juno’s altar forgotten and burned away weeks of travel behind you.

“You will like it here,” he mumbles, trailing the same hand up to the back of your neck as he repeats the words he spoke only days prior on your journey. You could, you will, but it all feels so different that your pulse seems to triple its racing.

Your fingers graze over the dried flowers in your hand, sweet smelling as you trace over each petal to center yourself, take back that prideful smile that was in place just a moment ago.

If you’re to run amok, you may as well enjoy it.

You settle, regain your pace and that forced look of utter contentment at his side.

At least, until he begins to speak again.

“I will kill them all if you prefer we be alone,” König whispers into your ear, has the audacity to nip at your lobe, and does not even bother drawing back as if those words were meant to make you wet and pliant for him. All sense of reason must have left you entirely, because a shiver rips its way up each knob of your spine. “Would that please you?”

“No… Do not jest,” you grit out, staring only forward and not offering so much as a glance toward the beast at your side, even as his hand drifts down to palm at your breast.

“I am not.” He laughs, breathy and low when he finds your nipple already hard, thumb grazing over it as though this act of exhibitionism was as natural as any of the other things his madness compels him to do. “I will give you anything. Even blood, meine Göttin.”

Surely… you should be flattered that his loyalty is reserved only for you, but there’s no appeasement held in the glare that you shoot him as you pry his hand away from your chest. He gives you the look of a kicked stray then, even a pout so foreign on a face so scarred, you may have even chuckled if you were in better spirits, but he does relent. His hand drops back to his side and he detached from you after pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You’re led to a shack larger than the others, but more or less in the same state. It’s simple, built solidly with thick carved wood and packed to prevent weather seeping its way in. It’s humble in a way, far more humble than any ruler’s you’ve only imagined. A bench, a table, a mattress likely stolen away from some Roman soldier’s tent. There’s nothing particularly special about it, but it smells like König, like the trees and the earth in a way that is comforting.

It takes a moment for it to fully register that this is what he had meant by home, not the people and their affairs outside, only this place. Only him. A temple all your own that you imagine he must wish to fill with love and children and an abundance of gifts he may steal away all for you.

His men bring in what little of the supplies remained, stuffed away in a corner and voluntarily relinquished; even if it means they’ll be fending for themselves like the others in the village rather than feasting on stores, they only seem happy. The red-haired one even flashes you a contented look of admiration on his way out, as though you just being there was enough to soothe and patch some void here.

That may have been the case.

When the door is shut and all falls to silence, the barbarian king kneels before you. His hands find your hips, thumbs grinding gentle circles along them and further down to your thighs, your calves, to everywhere that aches. A gentle sort of worship that coaxes soft sighs and a buzzing of flesh from you.

König brings you to the mattress when your eyelids begin to flutter, exhaustion settling over you in full when you’re lifted and brought toward his chest. You could fall asleep in his hold alone, but you settle to only rest your head there and reach up along his vastness to rake your fingers through his wild hair.

Your voice tells him that you do like it here, with him, in this strange place circled by withering ferns and trees so infinite that you could never hope to find your way away without him taking your hand and navigating through. Your touch tells him the words that you dare not speak, a kiss to voice that you too would burn away everything if it only meant that you could share in this at his side, a mimicry of his massage along his own shoulder to whisper a great confession of adoration and boundless promises.

— — —

When the ferns and flowers begin to grow again throughout the spring and into the summer, you find yourself accustomed to everything. You aid the women in caring for their children, though you begrudgingly swear that it is not for practice whatsoever. The stitching and cooking that is done here feels far less harrowing— you do not put it off and leave it in a heap upon the floor as you would have in the city. There’s no looming dread of what’s to come when you perfect your work: you’re gifted only smiles, blessings and gifts.

Though the woman König had claimed to be your mother is not here, you ask him to recount the way she looked and spoke to you often on quiet nights, where his hands drift over you and his voice comes in a whisper. She may not have even existed at all, some lost spirit amidst the trees that wails and cries and leads men like him to their destinies. Your heart only tears when you begin to wonder if Juno herself had imparted such a quest to him. Save the lost woman that she favored so much, grant him some divine luck and intoxicating charm to ensure your safety and happiness.

He does not understand when you gather up honey and blossoms to pray over, but he does sit at your side and listen when you whisper your thanks to this new altar. Kisses the crown of your head when you’re through and lures you back into an embrace where he reminds you that he knew what he needed to do the moment that you met at the stream. No other woman could have swayed him the way that you have.

His offerings are only to you, even after such a length of time has passed. There’s no goddess that he kneels for other than the one that sleeps at his side and tells him of her dreams.

The day he gifts you his seax is one that resonates more than even the necklaces and gowns of silk and linen. It feels heavy in your hands, the blade almost as soft as gossamer when your fingers trail along it, though it does not yield. It’s only well polished and freshly sharpened. The handle bears a strange carving in it now, one of two wolves staring up at a broad moon. It breaks something inside to know that even he does find some things sacred: beasts, the glow of an untouched paradise and you.

“Why are you giving me this?,” you manage to whisper as your diligently ghost over the carvings in reverent repetition. “Don’t you need it? For hunting and fighting…”

“You like it?” It’s impossible not to notice the cocky expression on his face that tells you full well he’s recounting that experience. You liked it then, certainly, but it wasn’t as if you had any use for it in such a way when he kept you satisfied enough with himself.

“Yes… but it’s yours.”

He shrugs then, a great lift of his shoulders as you’re pulled to him with a careful grip to the wrist holding the weapon.

“Will keep you safe,” he huffs against your neck, leaving a kiss there when you sheath the seax at the strap you had also been gifted pulled taught along your hip.

You didn’t even know how to use the thing properly, and you were not quite fond of the idea of chasing down rabbits or puncturing another human with it. Your concerns fall on deaf ears when you’re led out into the surrounding forest to a thicket of wild raspberries. Your wrist is steadied by a firm hand as König diligently teaches you to carve away limbs heavy with fruit without actually bringing any real harm to the plant itself.

There are many things to forage this season, some you had never even heard of before he explains their significance to your wonder-filled face. You hadn’t thought him stupid, not truly, but it still comes as a surprise that he seems to know so very much.

When you find yourself seated beside a slow-moving stream, a ripe berry crushed between your teeth, you’re finally allowed to put your new blade away and set it aside on moss-covered stones.

“You should keep it close. A bear might want to eat you, hm?,” he playfully chides behind you, lifting your drab little gown up and over your head. As if to further his point, his teeth rake over your pulse, applying just enough pressure to draw a whine from your lips.

“You are not a bear,” you huff and turn to pull away his tunic, pressing a kiss over the scar he now dons just above his heart.

“Ja…” He lowers his head again to kiss along your neck, trailing a heat up to your ear as he maneuvers you into the water to bathe.

Your foraging and banter go forgotten, and a different sort of howling fills the air shrouded in tree limbs. There are no wolves or wind, only two so feverishly desperate and in love that any other with their dowries and arrangements would find it even more compelling than the Empire itself.

He sinks into you when you’re brought to your knees, bellows his contentment when he brushes your wet hair away from your face and dives forward to cover you fully, bury you in a world of love and sweetness. Even when the act is done, König does not pull away, only lies you back along to shore and tucks you further against him.

You remain chittering and laughing until the sky begins to reflect the very stars you see in his eyes, glittering constellations that seem to flicker and echo the steady beat of his own heart as you lie against his chest.

The summer wedding that the fortune-teller had once spoken of seemed to already take place here. There’s no need for a lectus or some grand display to reveal to others that you’ve united, it comes in the stillness and shared contentment when your voices begin to quiet, and at last you resign yourself to tell him that you belong to him just as much as he belongs to you.

The final flurry of surrender comes out as a soft whisper, one that only leaves you with your knees folded back to your chest and an insatiable giant hugging his gratitude and love into your ear with each graceless snap of his hips.

He drags you down to your own ruin, spells his own with haste and what comes as a twist between a dispatch of tears and a sigh. You can’t recall ever seeing him cry, not even now as he burrows against your neck and shakily breathes against your shoulder, muttering such nonsense about how he would still take you up and into the sky if only you would continue to let him stay with you like this.

“Always,” you murmur fondly, cradling him as closely as possible. Inside, outside, embedded into your very flesh you feel him near. He does not pull out from you this night, only falls asleep in your embrace, cloaks you from the breeze over the water with his own heat. You follow suit, petting at him as though he’s far smaller than his massive weight suggests. He shifts just enough to not fully crush you beneath him, just as you begin to drift off.

When morning does come, König is already stood at your side, staring off into the distance with an expression that only foretells of something you’re certain you will want no part in. He shushes you when you part your lips to speak, nervously scrounging up your gown and the strap holding your gifted weapon. There are no protests from you, and only the babbling of the stream and sounds of distant yelling break up the silence.

You don’t need to ask to know what’s occurring. Just as you had predicted before the Romans had come to dismantle the village just as they had many others before, take the women as slaves and force the children to learn and take up arms for their empire. You had never thought of the violence before when it occurred, when you saw the faces of those miserable women at the sides of people they could never afford to feel any fondness toward. You had always been lucky and blind.

König, however, must have only known wraith. His fingernails dig into his palms, nostrils flared and expression pensive.

“Wartet hier.”

He does not even hesitate as he begins to move, leaving you behind along the peaceful shore. As if to spur you forward, the shallow water rises to lap at your ankles, and still you do not budge. Your hands feel heavy, encumbered by the seax still set in its sheath, and only then does it dawn on you that König had not even had a weapon his person. What good would he even be without one? When so many men armed with sharpened swords and spears had come for his head…

Though fear creeps in, subdues your limbs with its stiffness, rakes fangs of pure ice along every pulsing vein held within you… you can not bring yourself to flee or stay put. You follow, quiet as a wood mouse as you walk along the forest with trembling hands clutching a weapon you almost hope is not too late to save your home, your heart.

There’s no clear trail, no sign of König, not even a shadow or a whisper that may belong to him. Instead there are shouts and the heavy smell of smoke. The gray billows up, more imposing than even the oaks and pines. The only comfort you will yourself to take is the fact that the words you can make out are Germanic, not Latin. Not all is lost, not yet.

You steel yourself and push your resolve to the forefront of your mind, creeping ever closer with careful but steps far more swift. You wind past throning brush and sprawling vine, past trees but familiar and not until you finally cross over from forest to the tall grass lining the edges of the village.

There lies chaos you expect, and that which you do not. Some of the cabins have gone up in flame, fire that coils and spreads to set your nerves alight with memory and dread. There are men fighting at the heart of it all, weapons slick with blood dripping down to the fallen at their feet. The women and children have all fled or have been taken captive, you couldn’t be certain amongst all that was already occurring around you and beyond. You couldn’t even count your enemies, a smaller army no doubt, the arrogance of the Empire knew no bounds. Twenty men to take down one was substantial enough when the others could be used for further conquests.

And there is no sign of König.

You feel numb when no matter where you look you can’t seem to catch sight of him, and how easy a task that should have been given his stature. The seax is pulled from its sheath when grief begins to settle, and the tears that threaten to spill are forced back with a grimace. There was still some hope, you knew. The village was not so small that you could map all of it from the small lump of a hill, but that desire to find him, bare your own teeth and fight at his side to protect what was yours brims up and chokes back the fear harbored in your chest.

Lady or wolf, you cared not. You would lose your titles just as he would if it came down to it. When the histories speak of how that city burned, how a king without a name brought the Empire to kneel if only for a moment before they sought revenge, you would be written in ink alongside it. A devotion so strong echoed in each page, as a barbarian queen that chose to keep her heart and lose her head.

But it doesn’t come to that. There’s another woman stood at König’s side when you do find him, wielding a stolen sword from one of the opposing soldiers as sweat and blood paint his face.

Unharmed and unknowing of the presence at his side, a mirage carved of smoke she was, his eyes stared out towards where the blade struck while her eyes only settled over you. Your breath catches when your gaze moves from König to her and you do find a resemblance: the way that her hair, the same color as your own frames her face, her frame, the way that her nose shapes, even the expression upon her face.

The mother he spoke of, the feral love and protectiveness outspoken and proud in her eyes. You do not recognize this woman, even amidst the cluster of sparse memories in your mind. Not until now had you ever seen her, but the feeling you’re gifted then… a roaring settling in your chest to extinguish all apprehension tells all.

As the last of the Romans is struck down by König himself, a blade sunk so deep into the other’s stomach as the other man spits out a gurgled wail, the woman only seems to fade out into nothing, replaced by the backdrop of the trees surrounding. Nothing left behind in the wake of the place she once walked apart from fallen soldiers and a trail of blood and König, safe as he could be.

When you come to him, teary-eyed and fretful, your roaming fingers do not catch on a single gash. The blood painted over his face, neck, chest is none of his own. He’s well, just as the other men from the village as they rush to snuff out the flames and clear away the bodies.

Though König pants heavily and his eyes are still wild, mind momentarily lost to the thrumming adrenaline in his veins, your touch seems to settle him greatly. The sword falls from his hands to clatter in the dust and muck, curling around you to pull you in. You think he should be angry that you hadn’t listened when he ordered you to stay, but he only seems as grateful as you to find his other half alive and longing still. Always.

You tell him of the woman as you sob into his chest, describe her and her vanishing as best you could in your own muffled voice. He grins, strokes your hair as though he truly believes every word even with how ridiculous it all sounds. There are things far more demanding to focus on now, and eventually you fall to silence as he holds you there.

Your home still stands, built just far enough off from the rest that its managed to avoid the battle entirely. Untouched, except from inside. The altar you had dedicated to Juno is gone, vanished just like the woman you had seen before. The scent of cinnamon hangs in the air, misplaced and unannounced, but a comfort all the same. You smile to yourself, bittersweet but comforting, with tears drying upon your face.

— — —

The village takes time to rebuild.

You lose time just as much as you lose sleep helping out with the endless tasks. König, thinking himself chivalrous, or perhaps hinting at what your future may entail if he continues to ravage you as though he would die without your warmth, never allows you to carry anything heavy. Even clay pots filled with water from the stream are swiftly taken from your hands. Gods forbid you even attempt to aid in cooking over the fires, either. He pulls you away with a hand clasped over your mouth and nose, delicately caressing your face and reminding you to be careful.

Something has changed. What you knew to be love before only seems to double with each passing day. He fusses and dotes over you endlessly, ensuring that you’re well fed, trailing behind you to bathe and it isn’t even just for the chance to sink into your cunt.

Often, he sits with you in his lap, guiding a wet cloth up to gently wash you, toys with your damp hair beneath his fingers, tells you stories of his own adventures and the people who traveled alongside him. Not of the hundred wives his men had boasted about him having, a ridiculous statement only meant to make you pine for him more than you already had, you supposed. He even tells you, sheepishly, that most women seemed afraid of him, but never you.

When you do make love, it’s an act of endless desperation. Along the bank of the stream, your shared bed, against any tree he deems fit enough to not budge beneath your shared weight, and even once in a field of wild blooms you two had found along a foraging trek. The floral aroma had kissed your skin each place he had, left you more doughy and sweet even as you took to conquer him, straddled over his hips with your head thrown back to the wind. You laughed with him when it was through, curled your hand beneath his chin to you with the rough feeling of his unshaven hair.

Everything— each new thing you learn and see with König as your guide only seems to melt away any wall you put up. Your life before only seems to fade from memory, that lonely bitterness consumed by the well of love he’s pushed you into.

When autumn comes and the trees begin to turn, each wealth of green faded and given way for yellow and red, your mare has finally become more docile and tame. You’re not even sure who to thank for it, for the way she struts about with giddy children on her back and doesn’t fuss when even you will yourself to settle over her saddle.

The saddle like all else in your life only seems softer, stitched together with leather, a cushion made of a rabbit’s pelt and stuffed full with straw and down so soft you don’t even dread the idea of the long ride to come.

The mountains, here, surrounding the valley and the village are wild and beautiful, still layered near to their peaks in abundant fields of late-blooming flowers. The stars still hang above, twinkling and glittering as if only to silently deliver their blessings for your coming journey. It is only the sea that you’ve yet to venture toward, the last on the list of honeyed promises König has made to you.

Your luggage is packed and spread between the two horses, your mare and his stallion. There are blankets and preserved food, light posts to set up a tent someplace a distance from the shore, even a pearl dangling from a thin chain that König dutifully places on your neck. It’s no exchange of rings, but you clutch the little gem tight as you will yourself not to cry. There was no need to be so sentimental not now, not after you’ve already shared so many moments far more tender.

The seax dangles at your hip, catching the glow of the sun above when you pull it free and polish it alongside König as he does with his pilfered sword. He shows you how to use a whetstone, delicately maneuvering your hand to sharpen the blade before dousing the thing in oil, makes you swear not to accidentally nick yourself when you’re inevitably dragged in the throes of some hunt at his side.

You’ve yet to use it for that purpose, but going alone means you’ve no choice but to offer your support… even with the knowledge that he wouldn’t actually allow you to do much at all, frustrating as that was.

When morning comes, you say your goodbyes to the village. You’re thrown flowers both pressed and new, petals latching to the fur of the pelt tied over your shoulders. König receives wine, far more useful than the delicate little blossoms that you brush away with shy smiles and glassy eyes.

The language is easier to understand now, when the others offer you great fortune on your travels, the women speaking greatly of your fertility despite the way it makes your nose scrunch in distaste. They call you Königin, only that, never any name you’ve offered for them to use. Perhaps even above the name the people of the city called you by it is more fitting.

You settle into the saddle with König atop his stallion next to you, reach for the reins when he flashes you a wary look, tells you that you will ride slow and he will keep you safe in case anything does happen to occur. You only think to remark the same, gesturing toward the weapon strapped to your hip, smirking when he snorts in amusement.

“Are you ready to depart?,” you ask him as you reach a hand out to trail along his arm, heart thumping wildly when his gaze only begins to further soften. You almost fear he may begin to cry, just as overwhelmed and sweetly pacified as you feel now. “We can stay a while longer if not.”

“Nein… we still need to plan for the stars after,” he whispers as he takes hold of your hand, interlocks your fingers and brushes against each knuckle with the pad of his thumb before bringing it toward his chest.

The moment is broken when the horses begin to huff in anticipation. You don’t get the chance to remind him that you still see each constellation he’s shown to you in the glimmer of his eyes, but you know well enough by now that he would only tell you the same in turn.

[sometimesanalice]

A prompt party, Alexa? How in the world did I miss that? I'd be over the moon if you could write a little something for Bradley + "i’m gonna marry you one day." 🪩 ✨

Rebecca! Now you know I’m always down to write a little something for a smitten Bradley! I hope you enjoy!

It was a surprisingly quiet night at the Hard Deck.

You could actually hear the music playing out of Penny's old juke box, rather than just the faint essence of notes for whatever oldie was queued up over the usual rowdy ruckus. And there were more empty chairs scattered about than there were taken ones.

It was one of the rare rainy days they got in San Diego. The gray skies and drizzle driving even the best of Uncle Sam's finest under blankets and curled up on couches.

Bradley always liked the moody weather. He liked the way the clouds seemed to cling to the coastline. He liked the rough rolling waves as they broke against the shore with more force than they usually did.

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it.

Because he was looking at you.

Bradley had been trying to ask you out for the better part of two months now. And he was starting to think that you were giving him the runaround.

He'd learned that first evening that you were only filling in as a favor to Penny- she and your mom went way back as sorority sisters- for a few months as Jimmy recovered from his knee replacement surgery.

Under normal circumstances, he’d take the hint and move on. And even if his mom hadn’t raised him right- which she had- Rooster knew that just because someone was nice didn’t mean they were interested. Especially when it was their job.

But he couldn’t kick the feeling that there was something there.

All he needed was one date to prove it.

It was more than the way you always seemed to catch him looking, because you were looking right back. Or the way you’d slip him a free drink every now and then, saying it was on the house. Or the way you found a way to brush past him a little too close whenever you'd swing by with more peanuts for Bob or a fresh round of drinks for his friends.

You were so damn smart and funny as hell. He’d taken to spending less time on his ESPN app and more time on the NYT trying to find interesting topics to get to spend a extra few minutes with you. Nothing felt better than earning a smile from you.

But any time he got close to asking you out or asking for your number, you were pulled away by something or another. The sound of broken glass. A pointed throat clearing from a thirsty patron. An emergency trip to the storage closet.

Rain was good luck in some places, and Bradley needed all the luck he could get. It hadn’t been on his side in the past two month, but tonight was his night. He was sure of it.

Especially considering he was the only person seated at the bar.

You'd been popping out and checking on people, delivering refills personally to the few people who had braved the elements instead of having them come up to the bar.

Rooster was patient, he didn't mind waiting his turn. After all, he had a shiny new NYT subscription to keep him company.

He smiles to himself when you work your way back to the bar, grabbing the bowl of limes and a cutting board, and setting up right in front of him. He watches as you deftly slice and quarter the limes into wedges, their bright scent clinging in the air.

“Why does it feel like I’ve seen less of you tonight than I do when this place is packed?” Bradley asks, saving the article he was midway through before closing out of the app completely.

“I’m just a one woman show here tonight, I told Penny to stay home." You're tidy and efficient in the way you store the prepped wedges and work to clean up the already immaculate bar. "It's means a bit more running around for me. But I don't mind, I like to keep busy."

"So I've noticed."

You look up at him from under your lashes, as you wipe down the prep space. "Have you been keeping tabs on me, Rooster?"

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that."

You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways.

"Oh, Bradley," you say with a soft sigh. "Bradley, Bradley, Bradley..."

And then your eyes drop purposefully down.

The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top.

"You wouldn't," he rasps.

"I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him.

"Sweetheart, c'mon."

"Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?" You tsk, with a self-satisfied smile. "And here I thought you were a Boy Scout."

Bradley just shakes his head amused as you sashay up to the bell and give it a loud, long ring. A couple whoops go up in response, but no one gets up. Yet.

You walk back towards him with an all too pleased smile.

"I think you enjoyed that."

You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special."

"Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease. "You gave me no choice. I don't make the rules, I just follow them. And as much as I love Penny, I have a healthy dose of-"

"-fear-"

You smirk. "I was going to say respect. But also you're not wrong."

"And what about me?" he asks, sitting up straighter on his stool. "What are your impressions of me?"

"Oh you?" You tilt your head to the side, letting your gaze linger on his face as you muse. "You look like trouble."

"Do I now?"

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me."

He leans in closer. "And what's that?"

You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

“That’s a bold statement from the man who still has yet to ask me out on a date.”

He opens his mouth, to do just that, after months of failed attempts. And then another one of the patrons saddles up to the bar, waving you down for your attention.

Rooster groans.

"Alas, it appears I have another gentleman caller," you sing, reaching for the towel and waving it like a handkerchief in his direction. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, Bradley. Maybe at the end of an aisle, who knows, the night is young."

The smile you give him promises that this conversation isn't over yet.

You spin away from him and don’t give him a second glance as you head over towards the thirsty man whose beer is going on his tab, but there’s a sway in your hips that wasn’t there before.

And Bradley thinks to himself, this is going to be fun. 

[dipperscavern]

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.

[moonstruckme]

hi lovely! would you consider writing part 2 for reader that is remus' roommate and sirius, where they are freshly together? if you don't feel like it that's fine, have a good day darling

Thanks for requesting honey! Hope this is alright :)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

When Remus opens the door, he banishes his surprise at finding Sirius there almost as quickly as he knows he’s not here to see him. 

“She’s in her room,” Remus says, stepping aside. 

Sirius grins at him, beelining down the hall. He’d been coming around a lot more often lately, and though Remus would like to be annoyed, it’s hard to deny how sweet the two of you are together. After your first meeting, Sirius had begun showing up every weekend, allegedly to hang out with Remus, though you somehow always ended up coming along. Then he started popping in on weekdays, claiming he forgot something at the apartment or was in the area and “thought I may as well stop by to see the two biggest nerds on campus.” According to you, he started showing up at your cafe a short while after that, acting surprised to see you and like he only vaguely recalled Remus mentioning you worked there (after he’d bribed Remus with chocolates for the intel).

You’d only gone on your first date the week before, and Remus had to meet Sirius nearly twenty minutes away from campus afterward to avoid any possibility of running into you as he gushed about the dress you’d picked out (Remus had seen it before you left; it was adorable), how smart you were (Remus knew), the book you were in the middle of (Remus had lent it to you), and did Remus know this and that and that about you? (he did). Sirius spoke like you were the most fascinating creature on the planet, and Remus wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his friend so happy. 

When he got home, you weren’t much better. It had taken you awhile to build up the courage, a few days of Remus catching you smiling at your phone or staring off to the side of your book with a dreamy glaze over your eyes, but finally you’d asked Remus (trying to be casual, as if he didn’t know better) about Sirius. It had started with questions about what kind of music he preferred, then what he’d been like when they’d been in school together, and soon Remus was telling you everything he could recall from the moment he met Sirius when they were eleven, surprised and a bit endeared by how eager you were for every story. 

The day after that, he’d started getting texts from James asking about the girl that had his best friend so smitten (“Moons, I’m telling you,” James had said, “I keep walking into his room to find him texting with his feet kicking behind him. It’s alarming”). It had begun to feel like all Remus did lately was relay information about you and Sirius to anyone who asked. Frankly, he felt lucky to have a first-row seat to the show, endlessly amused to watch as two of the most self-assured people he knew devolved into giggling fools in the other’s presence. 

Now, he can hear you squeal as Sirius bursts into your room, followed by some scuffling sounds, and then Sirius drags your blanket-wrapped form across the floor and out into the living room by your ankle. You curse and twist about, grinning with the sort of animation Remus hadn’t known you possessed until you’d met Sirius. 

“Alright,” Remus says in his bored, I’m-so-done-with-your-lovebird-shit voice (he’s had plenty of time to practice it in these last few weeks), “unhand my roommate, Sirius.” 

Sirius drops your foot, and you sit up, shaking your head in entirely faked exasperation as you straighten your rumpled hair. 

“Moony, do you know she’s been dodging my calls for days?”

Remus quirks a brow. “I heard you on the phone last night.” 

“Some bullshit about an exam,” Sirius continues as though he hasn’t spoken. “Can you believe it? You know me, I won’t stand for this sort of treatment.”

“I know you’re needy, Black,” you say, standing with the grace of a monarch despite your polka-dot pajamas and the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and going to sit on the couch, “but I can only afford to feed your ego every so often when my strictest professor’s exam is coming up.” 

Remus hums in recognition. “That’s tomorrow morning, isn’t it?”

You nod, brushing a greasy piece of hair behind your ear self-consciously, and Remus watches you sympathetically. He’s not sure how much you’ve let Sirius know, but it’s hard to live in such close proximity to someone and not pick up on their moods. You’ve been horrendously stressed about this exam all week. The coffee maker has been running nearly non-stop, the shower running not at all, and Remus has seen light coming from under your door at all hours of the night. 

“Maybe the two of you should go to a park or something,” he suggests gently. “Enjoy the nice weather, relax for a while.” 

You look anxious at the prospect of abandoning your textbooks for a few hours, but Sirius is assessing you, putting the pieces together of what this week has done to you. “Good idea, Moons,” he says, and Remus doubts he has to fake any of the enthusiasm in his voice. “What do you think, lovely girl, want to go on a little adventure?”

You hesitate, but in the end time with Sirius is too tempting to pass up. “Let me just get dressed.”

“Ugh,” Sirius complains. “If you have to.” 

A few minutes later Remus is watching you both warmly, feeling oddly like someone’s dad, though he’s not sure whose. He can’t help but smile as Sirius fawns over you, telling you how pretty you look and insisting upon tying your shoes for you (“Gorgeous thing like you, doing things for yourself? Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. Give me a few weeks, and you won’t remember how to tie your shoes or open your own door.”) before opening the front door gallantly. You’re all coy looks and feigned annoyance at his flirtation, but there’s more color in your complexion than Remus has seen all week, and you lean into Sirius when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. It’s all very sickeningly sweet. 

“Have fun,” Remus says, waving you out the door. “And Pads.”

Sirius looks back, gray eyes practically sparkling. “Yeah?”

“She’s got an exam in the morning. Don’t get her home too late.”

[cathrrrine]

Perfect / Love Won’t Die

Dominick “Sonny” Carisi x Reader • Law and Order SVU • Domestic Fluff, AFAB!Reader

Summary: Sonny happily holds the bouquet of flowers he bought for his girlfriend only for her to open the door and start crying. He immediately panics, but soon finds himself amused when she reveals the true reason for her tears. AO3

A/N: I’ve never posted any of my SVU imagines, but I had to with this one :) Happy 2024! My resolution is to post more of my work so I’m digging through all my drafts and posting them lol. Enjoy husband material Carisi <3

In all the six months you had been dating Sonny, there were never many problems that couldn’t be resolved with a simple conversation or a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As far as Sonny was concerned, it was the perfect relationship. He had gotten to know all your little habits; likes and dislikes, pet peeves, niche obsessions. Six months wasn’t exactly a super long time but it wasn’t short either. After only half a year of dating each other, he’d confidently testify that he had fallen in love with you deeply, enough to want to spend the rest of his life with you. He was happy to get married, have babies, grow old together…the whole shebang.

Things were going steady with you. He couldn’t imagine himself being with anybody else, and he was over the moon to know that you felt the samw way. Long late-night conversations about the future the two of you dreamed of revealed that you wanted him to be a part of it as much as he wanted you. Sure, Sonny was aware of how much of a (hopeless) romantic he could be sometimes, but that was in the past, and all of those relationships weren’t with the right people. His sisters had been talking his ear off ever since high school, warning him about women that would only break his heart. It made him wince just to think about all the red flags they ticked off angrily; gold-diggers, manipulators, emotionally unstable women, emotionally unavailable women…and the likes of it. That and their own broken-heart experiences that prompted very fuelled lectures of examples of men Sonny shouldn’t follow always rang in his mind, even until now.

He’d also been made well aware of how right they were about his exes with a bunch of ‘I told you so’s’ and narrowed eyes, but those relationships were in the past and he was much, much younger (and dumber) than he is now. He only had a couple of serious relationships in his adulthood, which ended up not being the right fit for either parties. Then, his love life got buried under the heavy, heavy load of police work and law school and he never found the time to make himself available in the dating pool. He was always too tired, too beat, too mentally drained. It was never a priority.

Then everything came to a stop and his whole world wouldn’t do anything but revolve around you. Sonny was smitten, like a lovesick puppy who got shot by cupid’s nuclear-powered bazooka as fate would have it.

He never felt this way about anyone in his life before, it was a feeling he relished in and was adamant on not letting go.

You were perfect.

Obviously, you had your flaws, but all only human, none of them fatal. Like how you had a habit of ordering too much food but he ends up being the one to finish it up when you realised your eyes had been bigger than your appetite — but he didn’t mind that at all, in fact he secretly loved being able to feast like a King — or how sometimes, you would arrive 10 minutes late to your dates on one of your busiest weeks, which he never complained about because he had his fair share of being unpunctual as well. Plus, you always made it up to him one way or another.

You were absolutely perfect, inside and out. Sonny thanked God everyday for sending a woman as smart, beautiful and kind as you his way. He’s never felt so lucky.

Sonny knew and loved everything about you, down to your weirdest quirks. If there was a Jeopardy! game where the topic was You, he’d be waving around his trophy like a mad man. What you didn’t tell him, he learned. It was the same way you got to know him. The two of you were always honest with each other, trust being the pillar of your relationship, it was why you got along so well. You knew how to make him happy, as he did for you.

So, why is it that you were crying as he handed you a bouquet of your favourite flowers as soon as you opened the door to your apartment?

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” His sweet smile dropped to a concerned frown, uncomfortable and nervous at your sudden reaction.

There you were in front of him, dressed in your most comfortable pair of pyjama pants and an oversized tee that he was sure once belonged to him, messy hair up that he found extremely adorable. Nothing seemed out of place, except for the fact that…well, you were crying.

He always brought you flowers. Was he late? He glanced at the clock on your wall. No…was it something he said? Something he did? Something…he totally forgot about?

“Nothing- no, everything’s fine, nothing’s wrong.” You sniffed, hugging the fresh bouquet close to your chest, dipping your nose into the floral fragrance to smell it only to find that the tears had triggered an onslaught of snot. That only made you cry more.

The bubble of nerves in Sonny’s chest was bursting at this point, he was almost worried he was having a heart attack. “Doll, you’re crying, something’s wrong.”

He held out an arm to pull you into a hug and you eagerly sunk into his embrace. You buried your face into the fabric of his suit jacket, breathing in what you could of his faded perfume. His calloused hands stroked your hair, softly caressing your head as he cradled it. He gently peeled you off of him to get a better look of your face, now red and eyes puffy from sobbing.

He held your cheeks between his palms and you pouted, looking up at him with sad doe-like eyes, and if that didn’t break his heart that he must not have one because the look on your face was shattering him in every possible way right now. One of his thumbs swiped a fresh tear off your cheek, he felt you nuzzle into his hand.

The tall blond gently led you to your couch and set the flowers down on the coffee table before cuddling up with you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms around him desperately, wanting nothing more than to be absolutely engulfed by everything Sonny — scent, skin and biceps.

“You’re killing me sweetheart, you gotta tell me what’s gotten you all upset like this.” You felt him kiss the top of your head and love bloomed in your chest immediately. “Come on, doll, what’s up?”

You sighed, big and loud, huffing away all the choked up tears with one big breath. “I swear it’s nothing. I’m so stupid.”

He was quiet for a while until you felt his voice vibrate from his chest again, “Was it…me? Did I do something wrong?”

You whipped your head to look at him, only to be greeted with a very worried expression.

Oh, Sonny. Oh, sweet heavenly innocent Sonny. How could you not love this man with every fibre of your being when he’s got that look in his eyes? The one where his pupils are so dilated, you could see your reflection in his big, blue puppy eyes.

How could you have been so careless?! Of course he’d think you were crying because of him, the sweet stupid man — God, you loved him so much. The thought only made you more emotional…and just like that the waterworks came rushing back in.

“Oh, God, Sonny-“ you hiccuped, pulling yourself away from him to put your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry- it’s not your fault at all,”

The lovesick, worried-sick man shot up next to you to pull you into his arms once again, stomach churning at the wave of emotions you were going through. He couldn’t even detective his way through this, his mind going haywire with every sniff that came from you.

“Then what is it?” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, “Did something happen at work? Is it that asshole again?”

With what he dealt with at his job, it wasn’t out of the question for his mind to be going down that dark path, but he shoved his anger and panic down to focus on your well-being, remaining rational until you were calm.

That made you shoot up to look at him again, words tumbling out of your mouth hurriedly to curb his worries. “No, no! I’m okay, I’m absolutely fine, Todd — that ass — didn’t do anything to me, I promise you, I swear to God. And it’s not you, it’s not anything even remotely related to anything sane at all. I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over a bunch of random things, it’s just so—“

“Doll.” Your boyfriend’s voice pulled you out of your rambling. The loving concern that radiated off of him was enough to bring you back to your senses. Gently, he asked again. “What is it?”

You melted immediately, both embarrassed and exhausted from all the sobbing you had been doing. “I’m on my period.”

Oh.

Oh!

“I know, I’m not usually this emotionally affected but my hormones are all over the place and my TV decided to autoplay The Notebook, now I’m a mess.” You sniffed. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like this, much less deal with me.”

It was only then that the detective noticed the TV screen, paused on Ryan Gosling’s frowning face.

He tried to stifle his amusement, but it came out in a fit of giggles, much to your dismay.

“It’s not funny.” You pouted.

“I just— I thought—“ His laughter consumed him, shoulders shaking as he held up his palms to his face and ran his fingers through his hair, uncaring of how it would mess it up. Sonny leaned back into the couch and continued to laugh with his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was so quiet it came out like a squeak, ashamed of how you cried like a baby in front of him. Although the two of you spent plenty times over at each other’s places and hanging out with each other, over the six months he knew you, you never had your hormones hit you this hard. It wasn’t uncommon to you, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence either, and it certainly wasn’t an event Sonny had the pleasure of experiencing…until today.

“It’s okay if you’d prefer to be at your own place right now, I totally get it. I won’t be offended in the least, okay? I’ll call you in the morning.” Some men in the past have been weirded out when this happened to you, so you weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t be offended — it was ‘your fault’ anyway, that was what you had grown accustomed to.

But Sonny, the ever-loving and understanding guy, did not share the same view. Of course not! Raised-with-sisters, loves-his-mother, thoroughly Italian, good-Catholic-man-who-respects-women Sonny, would never in a million years ever even think about being upset with you just because your period messed with your emotions. And that’s why you weren’t sure why you were so surprised when he responded to your offer with a kiss.

This was Sonny. He would never think lowly of you because of something you couldn’t control.

“That’s crazy talk, doll.” He mumbled into the kiss, smiling as he continued to love on your lips. “I’d never leave you alone like this.”

You pulled away a bit to properly look at his face, “Really?”

This was the man your heart belonged to. You don’t know how you didn’t explode when he gave you the most charming smile that ever graced his lips.

“Really.”

Everything you were worried about solved itself into place, like sentient puzzle pieces figuring themselves out with confidence.

“You’re too good for me.”

Unabashedly, you continued to make out with your boyfriend on your couch, a newfound appreciation driving you mad with love.

“I’m only for you, babe. Don’t need anyone or anything else but you.”

———

Now that the two of you were freshened up and settled down with mugs of hot cocoa in your hands, you and Sonny were much more at ease.

There was nothing better to Sonny than to be cuddled up with his girlfriend with her head laying on his chest. You practically clung to the arm draped over your shoulder, making a nest out of his bicep for your face — which reminded him of a koala bear, but he kept that thought to himself. He was so comfortable, so happy that this was his life. His nose pressed against your hair, the scent of your shampoo reminding him of a holiday well-spent together in Mexico. Deja Vu hit him the minute he kissed your head, laughing through his nose when he remembered the events that happened just a few hours prior.

“Hey,” he nudged you with the arm you were glued to. You pulled your focus from the movie you were watching — a comedy, nothing that would make the ‘bloody demon hormones possess me’ as you put it — and raised your eyebrows curiously in response. “I’m just wonderin’…”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you cry when I gave you the flowers?”

You groaned, still somewhat embarrassed at the flurry of emotions you attacked the innocent man with. But you humoured the question anyway, “I opened the door and you were standing there, so handsome and so sickeningly charming, holding up flowers that you brought for me. You should be worried if I didn’t cry.”

“Wow,” he whistled. “I’m really that handsome, huh?”

You playfully hit him in the chest with your fist as you resumed your initial position, “Shut up.” A smirk managed to rip it’s way through your lips. “But mostly, I was crying because I was so sad that the flowers were going to die. I don’t know, just weird how my brain works on my period.”

It was a nonchalant mention, nothing big to you, but it stuck to his mind. Flowers dying made you upset. How precious was that? He catalogued the thought, filing it away for the future. The inkling of humour tempted him, though.

“So, not so much on the handsome part?”

You snorted, “Eh, I’ll give it a 60/40.”

“It should be in the news or something. ‘Guy So Handsome, Makes A Grown Woman Cry’” he gestured in the air as if there was a banner.

“How about, ‘Girl So Hormonal, Makes A Grown Man Cry With Her’?”

“Psh, I didn’t cry.”

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

You laughed, thinking he’d given it up when the sound of the movie began to fade into your hearing again.

“You should come over the precinct, tell the guys how I can make the ladies cry just by showing up at their door.”

He wore that goofy, toothy grin you were so accustomed to whenever he was joking around.

You rolled your eyes. Then decided to mess with him. “Excuse me? Ladies? Plural?”

The grin immediately wiped off of his face. “No- I meant lady, as in singular.”

“Mhmm.”

“I mean— no, that’s not what—“

“Sure, Son.” The monotonous voice you used made him sweat.

“You know you’re the only gal for me! I was just joking…hey, baby, come on, look at me…”

———

Months passed by and relationship milestones came and went. You finally met his family on month eight, and him yours. Month ten, you got a promotion at work and thankfully — not by your doing — Todd left the company. Sonny and the rest of the SVU team made a breakthrough on a case, you met his coworkers you heard so much about for the first time when he brought you along for their celebratory dinner. He was teased relentlessly for ‘keeping such a wonderful woman from us all this time’. You enjoyed the camaraderie that they shared with each other, and felt like you won a prize when they extended it to you.

Time passed by you so fast that you barely noticed it was almost a full year since you and Sonny made it official.

The day of your anniversary, he made reservations for the two of you at a fancy restaurant — Italian, of course. You reminisced the journey of your relationship together over some fine dining and a delightful bottle of wine. The ambiance, mixed with the light-headed feeling from one too many glasses of wine, only made the love you had for Sonny so much more emphasised. It was a dream, to be loved by such an amazing man, to have found your soulmate. If you weren’t at such busy points of your career, you’d literally have his babies right then and there. A couple of mini Sonny’s would do the world good, you pondered. Unbeknownst to you, the subject of your thoughts was thinking the exact same thing, only he was dreaming up a babble of mini You’s instead.

Sonny and you walked home together — he had basically moved into your apartment by now, he was finding it harder and harder to be separated from you at night. Having you next to him made him sleep better, and just generally being around you made him feel better — the two of you never made his move-in an official thing, but there was no need to. It was almost like you shared a telepathic connection. Although, Sonny being Sonny, will make the moving in an official thing whether you needed to or not. Maybe into an actual house, with a backyard and a huge kitchen and a family to raise in to make it a home. One day. Maybe even tomorrow. He’d do anything, anytime with you.

“Got you something, by the way.” He grinned, keys jangling on the doorknob as he swung it open for you.

“Sonny, you didn’t have to.” You blushed. One year together and he still had that effect on you.

“Well, I wanted to.”

While you were taking off your shoes, he used it as a distraction to take it out of the hiding spot he so carefully planned — his height being an advantage to said plan — and waddled over in his socks to where you were sitting on the couch, handing it to you once he was sat as well.

It was a daintily patterned gift bag, not too big and not too small either, with a card attached to it on the front. You carefully removed it to read his words in neat handwriting.

Happy 1 year anniversary, doll. I love you so much. You make me the luckiest man alive. My love for you will never die.

You wanted to cry, so touched by his short but undeniably sweet words. He saw how your bottom lip jutted out, the way it usually did when emotions got the best of you, and smiled to himself with a bit of pride in getting his words right.

Slowly, you pried the top of the bag open, only discovering a plastic dome. “Careful.” Your boyfriend noted.

You wondered what it was, going over all the possibilities in your head as you took it out of the bag; lava lamp, necklace, tiny bottle, lantern…only to gasp when you saw what it really was inside.

A small sphere-shaped cactus with a crown of pink flowers, placed inside a white ceramic pot with the words, ‘My love for you will never die’ engraved in cursive writing around it.

Ahhhh, here come the waterworks.

“Sonny,” your eyebrows scrunched up, lips fully pouting now. “This is the sweetest fucking gift ever.”

Your use of words didn’t go unnoticed by the smiling man, earning you a chuckle out of him. “I remember the time you cried when I brought you flowers, and you told me it was because you were sad ‘bout them dying…it’s cheesy, I know. Corny, a bit. But I thought you’d like it.”

The rising inflection of his voice gave away his nerves, but you were quick to make your appreciation known. “I do, I do! It’s just the most beautiful and thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me. Thank you, baby. I’m- Aw…“

You choked up and he took that as his cue to pull you into his arms, careful to set the prickly plant down so you wouldn’t accidentally get hurt.

“It’s true though, my love will never die. You’re stuck with me for as long as you want me.”

“You know I’m shit at keeping plants alive, Son!” You couldn’t help the wavering in your voice, “Oh, but this is just so, so sweet. You’re just too cute for your own good.”

“Well, I was cute enough for you to accept the babbling guy who asked you out a year ago.” The giggling that followed made his blue eyes seem brighter.

“Yeah, I couldn’t say no to that face.”

You took the comfortable silence that ensued as a segue to your own offering to him, “Speaking of this cactus being put at the risk of dying, I’m gonna have to appoint someone to remind me it needs water every now and then.”

“I’m assuming that would be me?”

“Yup.” You shifted around to look through your purse. “So, I was thinking…”

Sonny narrowed his eyes at you, “Thinking…?”

You held out your palm and reached out for his, dropping a familiar weight into his hands. As soon as you pulled your hands away, the object revealed itself to be a single silver key with a brown leather strap keychain attached to the ring, ‘Det. Carisi’ engraved on one side and ‘Sonny’ on the other.

He looked up at you, meeting eager eyes that matched his own. You were practically bouncing with giddiness, excited to reach yet another milestone.

“Move in with me? Officially?”

God, you were so perfect.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”